by Anna DePalo
“What are you doing?”
He gave her a crooked smile. “This is the way I’ve fantasized about you. Your hair spread across my bed...entangling me.”
“I thought I was going to be on top.”
“You will be,” he promised before he kissed his way down her body.
When he was ready, he flipped her on top of him.
She straddled him, and then sank onto him until they were joined. They both groaned, and he helped her set up a rhythm that they enjoyed.
When she finally crested on a wave that was pure and beautiful, she heard her own gasps of pleasure as if from a distant place. Cole’s face was contorted with effort until he found his own release and spilled inside her in one long thrust.
Marisa sagged forward against him, and he caught her, their hearts racing.
“I don’t think I can survive much more of you, Marisa.”
“You don’t need to,” she murmured. “I’ve given you all I have.”
It was true—and also what she was afraid of. Cole had her body and soul. She only hoped she wasn’t just another score...
* * *
“Cole, come on up and taste Marisa’s cooking.”
Cole smiled for the camera. Which producer had come up with this stunt? Or had it been his mother’s idea? His mother was looking excited and decidedly innocent. Never mind that the dish to be sampled had more accurately been a joint production of Marisa and both their mothers.
If Marisa hadn’t been looking so horrified—but how many of her students tuned in to local television in the middle of the afternoon?—he might have suspected her of having a hand in the making of this made-for-TV moment. As it was, he wanted to laugh. He hadn’t expected to be an extra in this episode of his mother’s show.
When he reached the stage, he said gamely, “I’m sure it’s delicious, but I’m not a connoisseur.”
Camilla gave Marisa a spoon with a sampling of tiella on it—bits of rice, onion, potato and mussels mixed together—and nodded expectantly.
When Marisa turned, she made to hand off the spoon to him.
“No, no, Marisa,” Camilla said laughingly. “I always raise the spoon to the bocca when I ask my family for an opinione.”
The audience laughed along gamely, and even Donna smiled at Camilla’s exuberant admonishment.
Cole could read the defeat in Marisa’s eyes as she realized there was no way out. Unlike him, she wasn’t used to being on camera. But they both knew everyone—the audience, their mothers and the producers—was waiting for her to feed him.
Slowly, she raised the spoon, cupping her other hand under it to prevent spills. He locked his gaze on her face, and at the last second, took hold of her wrist in order to guide it. She gasped softly, the moment between them becoming molten even before the food touched his mouth.
The seafood dish was delicious. She was delicious. He wanted to start with the tiella and then have his fill of her until he was satisfied—though he had no idea when that would be. He’d always thought she was edible, but a taste wasn’t enough. Their two trysts had just whetted his appetite. He wished he could say he was sorry for roping her into an appearance on his mother’s show, but the truth was he looked forward to any opportunity to be around her these days.
Marisa finally pulled away, lowering the spoon and looking flustered.
Camilla clapped, her expression expectant. “So?”
Cole swallowed and cleared his throat, raising his gaze from Marisa. “Mmm...fantastic. You could tell it was prepared with love.”
He didn’t know where he was dredging up the words. He figured he was having an out-of-body experience since he couldn’t ever remember being this turned on without having a blatant physical sign of arousal—which would have been an inconvenient turn of events right now, to say the least, even with a kitchen counter providing camouflage from the cameras.
His mother turned to address the audience, saving him from the spotlight. “And now for another special surprise. We are giving away a set of Stanhope Department Store’s own brand of stainless-steel cookware today, thanks to our guest, Donna Casale. You can try yourself today’s recipe with your own new cookware!”
To much applause, a producer lifted the top of a big, white box to reveal a ten-piece set of gleaming stainless-steel pots and pans.
“Please look under your seats!” Camilla announced. “The person with the red dot is the winner!”
After a few moments, a middle-aged woman stood up excitedly and waved a disc.
“Auguri!” Camilla called, clapping. “Come down to look at your gift.”
When the audience member arrived to inspect her prize, Camilla put an arm around her and turned to the camera. “If you like the Danieli family recipe, please go to our website.”
She paused for what Cole knew would be a voice-over, and the appearance onscreen of the recipe and web address when the episode aired. Then Camilla thanked her guests and the audience members for coming. “Until next time. Alla salute!”
When the camera lights turned off, signaling the end of filming, Marisa visibly relaxed.
“Good job, Mom,” Cole said.
Camilla gave him a beatific smile. “Thank you for l’assistenza.”
If he wasn’t saving one parent, he was saving another. Though he doubted his father would think Cole was saving anything when he heard there was finally a buyer interested in Serenghetti Construction. He’d received an offer earlier in the week but hadn’t shared the news yet with anyone.
At the moment, though, he had more pressing concerns. As the audience began to rise and disperse, he cupped Marisa’s elbow.
“Are you okay?” he asked in a low voice. “You looked as if you were about to have a swoon-worthy moment back there.”
“Only for your legion of female fans,” she replied, blowing a stray hair away from her face.
He suppressed a laugh. That’a girl.
His mother and Donna were approached by a couple of audience members, so he and Marisa had relative privacy.
“Looks as if you might have gained some admirers today, too,” he remarked.
She eyed him. “Including you?”
“I’ve always been a fan.”
“Of my cooking?”
“Of everything, sweet pea.”
Marisa waved a hand in front of her face. “You do know how to turn up the heat.”
He gave her an intimate smile. “We haven’t done it in the kitchen yet.”
At her wide-eyed look, he bit back a grin. He admitted it—he loved flustering Marisa.
“There are other people here,” she replied in a low, urgent voice.
He leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Your kitchen or mine?”
She sucked in a breath. “I—I have to show out my mom.”
He gave her a lingering look, but nodded. Sooner or later, he’d have another chance to fan the flames with Marisa. He figured he’d survived the last fifteen years only because he hadn’t known what he’d been missing...
* * *
As Marisa walked out of the television studio with her mother toward the exit that led to the parking lot, she kept her thoughts to herself.
“So what am I not supposed to know?” Donna asked lightly.
Marisa threw her a sidelong look. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Hmm...it looks like it’s more than just business between you and Cole Serenghetti.”
Marisa felt a telltale wave of heat rise to her face. “Just doing a favor to thank him for participating in the fund-raiser,” she mumbled. “Besides, I thought it would be fun. You love cooking shows. Didn’t you have fun?”
“Yes, I did,” Donna agreed, “and part of it was the enjoyment of watching you and Cole interact. He looked as if he couldn’t wait to be alone with you.”
“Mom!”
Donna turned to face her. “You’re a beautiful, desirable woman, Marisa. I know what a prize my daughter is. Cole would be foolish not to be interested i
n you.”
There was the problem in a nutshell. She wasn’t sure where she and Cole stood—where pretending left off and reality began. And whether they were just hooking up with no possibility of a future together.
“Camilla Serenghetti, for one, believes something is going on, and she couldn’t be happier about it. She said she’s heard rumors around town...” Donna sighed and then gave her a long-suffering look. “The mothers are always the last to know.”
Marisa sighed herself, not having the heart for further denials. “Cole and I have a complicated past.”
“All relationships are complicated, honey. But what I saw in there was Cole eating you up with his eyes.”
“Mom, please!” she protested, because she wasn’t used to such frank talk from her mother.
Donna laughed. “Honey, I’m acquainted with the attractiveness of pro athletes.”
“Of course you are.”
Her mother looked at her probingly. “I hope your hesitancy about Cole doesn’t have anything to do with what happened between me and your father.”
They stopped at the closed door leading out of the building.
When Marisa didn’t say anything, Donna added, “Oh, honey, if baseball hadn’t broken us up, something else would have. We were too young.”
Yup, Marisa could identify with the tragedy of young love. She and Cole had been there themselves.
Still, she was surprised by her mother’s toned-down reaction. Ever since Marisa had discovered the truth in her twenties about her parents’ relationship—that her biological father was out of the picture even before an accident had claimed his life—she’d assumed her mother would be averse to professional athletes and their lifestyle.
Sure, her mother had been matter-of-fact when she’d finally detailed the circumstances around her pregnancy, but Marisa had assumed her mother had adopted that attitude for her daughter’s sake. Marisa had vivid memories of exactly what sacrifices had been involved in her upbringing, and she figured her mother did, too, and despite hiding it well, couldn’t help but be infected with some bitterness.
It appeared she was wrong—at least these days.
“You know, Mom,” Marisa said jokingly, “marriage really has changed your outlook on life.”
“Older and wiser, honey,” Donna replied. “But the events in my life that you’re referring to also happened a long time ago. I had time to move past them and get on with it. And I have never, ever regretted having you. You were a gift.”
Tears sprung to Marisa’s eyes. “Oh, Mom, stop.”
Donna gave her a quick squeeze and then laughed lightly. “Enough about Cole Serenghetti, you mean? Well, let me know what happens there. Sometimes mothers would like to move up from last on the totem pole!”
Ten
Marisa looked around the glittering ballroom where the Pershing Shines Bright fund-raiser was being held. The Briarcliff was a popular event venue on the outskirts of Welsdale. It was also one of the locations she’d scouted for her wedding to Sal.
That last thought made her realize how much had changed—how much she’d changed—in the past several months. The man uppermost in her mind was Cole, not Sal.
Because tonight was bittersweet. She was relieved the fund-raiser had come together as a nice event. Thanks to Cole, they’d sold more tickets than she’d ever hoped for, and Jordan was a hit, as well. But even though she and Cole had not talked further about it, after this evening they were scheduled to drop their charade about being a couple.
She looked across the room at where Cole stood talking to Mr. Dobson, and her heart squeezed.
Cole looked beyond handsome in a tux. She knew he’d have no trouble attracting female interest again once people no longer thought that he was dating her. In fact, more than one woman tonight had thrown him an appreciative look or had hung on his words and giggled at something he’d said.
Marisa sighed. She should be focused on other things. Her mother and stepfather were here to support her. And after this evening, she might have proved herself enough to become assistant principal at Pershing. Mr. Dobson had asked her last week to submit her résumé.
The principal had given no indication that he was aware of her relationship with Cole—and she certainly hadn’t broadcast it at school. In fairness, however, she’d casually mentioned that she and Cole had begun to see each other, having become reacquainted over preparations for Pershing Shines Bright. Marisa figured it was best the principal got the news from her first. And if Mr. Dobson had been a fan of Flavors of Italy with Camilla Serenghetti, he would have seen the episode with her and Cole that had aired two weeks ago, a few days after taping.
Cole glanced her way, and their gazes locked, his look appreciative.
He made her feel beautiful. She wore a green satin dress with a black lace overlay covering the sweetheart neckline, and chandelier earrings. She’d chosen her outfit with him in mind.
In the past couple of weeks, she’d seen more of Cole than she would ever have imagined. They’d attended a Razors game together to cheer on Jordan, where they were even nabbed on the Jumbotron sharing a quick kiss. She’d attended his second hockey clinic for Pershing students, and she’d teased him about making a teacher out of him yet. They’d also bonded in the kitchen, where he’d helped her make some of her signature Italian dishes.
She heated at the thought of what else they’d recently done in the kitchen...
Marisa had known then, if she hadn’t before, that she’d fallen in love with him. Because heartbreak was her middle name.
“My God, he only has eyes for you.”
Marisa jumped, yanked from her reverie, and turned to see Serafina behind her. “You sound like a bad advertisement for a women’s hair-care product.”
Serafina shook her head. “It’s not your hair that I’m talking about.”
“Ladies.”
She and Serafina swung in unison to see Cole’s youngest brother.
Jordan’s eyes came to rest on Serafina, and his smile was enough to melt ice. “Marisa didn’t tell me she had an even more perfect relative.”
“Oh?” Serafina responded and then glanced behind her. “Where is she?”
Cole’s brother grinned. “I’m looking at her, angel. I’m—”
Serafina scowled. “My name is not Angel, and I know who you are.”
“Cole’s brother,” Jordan supplied, still unperturbed.
“The New England Razors’ right wingman and leading scorer.”
Jordan’s smile remained in place. “You watch hockey.”
“Leading scorer on and off the field,” Serafina elaborated, her voice cool. “I read the news, too. And I’ve been moonlighting as a waitress at the Puck & Shoot.”
“I know, and yet somehow we’ve never been introduced.”
“Fortunately.”
Marisa cleared her throat. She was happy she was no longer the focus of Sera’s attention, but it was time to step in. “Jordan, this is my cousin Serafina.”
“Named for the angels,” Jordan murmured. “I was right. Must be divine kismet.”
“In your dreams.”
“It’s where you’ll be tonight...unless you also want to join me at the bar later?”
“My God, don’t you stop?”
Marisa knew Serafina didn’t like players, but she’d never known her cousin to be rude.
Sera’s scowl deepened. “How did you know Marisa and I were related?”
For the first time, Jordan’s gaze left Serafina for a moment. “Same delicate bone structure, and smooth cocoa butter skin. What’s to mistake?”
“Unfortunately nothing, I suppose,” Serafina allowed reluctantly.
“You’re lovely.”
“You’re persistent.”
“Part of my charm.”
“Debatable.”
Jordan grinned again and then shrugged. “The offer still stands. The bar, later.”
“You’re going to be lonely,” Serafina replied. “At least for
my company.”
Jordan kept his easy expression as he stepped away. “Nice to meet you...Angel.”
Serafina waited until Jordan was out of earshot and then fixed Marisa with a look. “A professional player.”
“Cole is one, too.”
“He’s retired from the game. At least the one on the ice.”
And then with a huff, her cousin turned and marched off, leaving Marisa speechless.
Cole appeared next to her. “What happened?”
She shook her head. “Actually, I don’t know, except your brother and my cousin did not hit it off.”
Cole frowned. “Surprising. Jordan is usually able to charm the—”
“—panties off any woman?” she finished bluntly for him.
Cole smiled ruefully.
“I think that’s Serafina’s issue with him.”
Cole leaned in close, nuzzling Marisa’s hairline. “The only woman I want to use my charm on is you.”
Marisa’s pulse sped up. “We can’t here.”
“We’re supposed to be a couple.”
One that would soon be uncoupled. “We’re supposed to be professional, too.”
She looked away, and then froze as she spotted a familiar figure across the room.
Cole’s brows drew together. “What’s wrong?”
He followed her gaze, and then he stilled, too.
Mr. Hayes. The former principal had been invited tonight because he usually was for major school events. She just hadn’t thought of apprising Cole of the fact. And she’d sort of ducked the issue by not checking with the administrative staff about whether Mr. Hayes had said he would be attending.
She hoped a meeting fifteen years in the making wouldn’t spell disaster...
* * *
“Cole Serenghetti and Marisa Danieli,” Mr. Hayes hailed them.
Cole looked at Marisa but she was avoiding his eyes.
“Mr. Hayes,” she greeted the other man. “How nice to see you. You look wonderful. Retirement agrees with you.”
Retirement would have agreed with the sour Mr. Hayes fifteen years ago, Cole thought sardonically. Of course, the old codger would be here tonight. He was grayer and less imposing than when he’d held Cole’s fate in his hands, but he still had the same ponderous personality from the looks of it.
