The Mr. Wrong Series

by Madden, A. M.

  “Thank you. My studio is in the spare bedroom, so time was a factor.” Just as I was about to ask if she wanted a tour, she looked at the large portrait of Charlene. Granted, it was difficult to miss considering it covered most of my living-room wall.

  Dread began to stir in my gut. There was no doubt Charlene was a stunning woman, and the picture accentuated all her best assets. Hazel eyes that could bring any man to his knees, a heart-shaped face, and pouting lips were all her. But the innovative way I edited it, by piecing together slices of photos, won me several awards.

  She stood and studied the portrait. Part of me wondered what she thought of it, but for the small amount of time I’d known Cassie, I was sure she was about to tell me. “She’s beautiful.” Cassie’s smile was brilliant when she turned to look at me. “Friend of yours?”

  “We lost touch,” I murmured, rubbing the back of my neck. For some reason, talking about my ex-girlfriend with Cassie didn’t sit well with me. “Would you like a glass of wine?”

  “I’d love some.” I walked into my kitchen and poured us each a glass of cabernet. Cassie’s brows puckered as I handed her the glass. She hadn’t moved while studying the portrait. “Did I tell you I teach kindergarten?”

  “I believe you did, why?” I took a sip of my wine, letting the tepid liquid rest on my tongue before swallowing.

  “Well, anytime one of my students doesn’t want to talk about something, they change the subject… like you just did. If you don’t want to talk about her, we don’t have to, but getting to know each other was your idea… remember?”

  What the hell was I supposed to say to that? She was spot on. Granted, being compared to a five- or six-year-old wasn’t an ideal compliment, but she sure pegged me perfectly. “It’s a long story.”

  “Okay.” She began to casually stroll around my living room, looking at pictures. When she saw one of Luca, my sister, and my parents, she paused. “This is a nice picture. I don’t remember your brother having any of you at his place. If he did, our first meeting might have gone a bit differently.”

  “Really?” I laughed. “You mean you wouldn’t have barreled into us?”

  Cassie clucked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. “Take that back.”

  “Again, you’re trying that tactic?” This time she was the one laughing. “The reason I have pictures and he doesn’t is probably because I’m always behind the camera. It’s a long-standing joke with our family. God forbid I were to die; there wouldn’t be any pictures of me.”

  At that moment, Cassie set her glass down on the side table, pulled her phone from her purse, and held it in the air. “Smile.” Before I could decline, the shutter on her cell sounded. “There, now you’ll be immortalized in my phone.” Proud as she was cute, she tucked it back in her purse. “How about a tour?”

  “Come.” With my hand on the small of her back I guided her down the short hallway. After I flicked on the light in my studio, Cassie took a step inside. A tornado of thoughts began to coil inside of me. How I’d love to photograph her, pose her in such a way she’d rival any model I’d ever shot.

  “Wow, Dante.” She slid a fingertip down one of the rigid metal legs of the tripod. “This is really impressive.”

  “Thank you. I was very fortunate to find an apartment that afforded me to have a studio at home. It makes my commute much easier… when I don’t have to shoot on location, at least.”

  Cassie sighed. “I’d love to be able to work from home. I don’t even think I’d get dressed.” When I didn’t respond right away, because I was picturing Cassie naked, she added, “What I meant was, if I didn’t need to be in front of anyone, I would stay in my yoga pants all day.”

  “Well, this is my office, so to speak, so I need to get dressed. However, if you ever want to be my subject, my wardrobe is negotiable.”

  A deep blush covered her face. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “Actually, I don’t.” I couldn’t blame her for the assumption, but I spoke the truth. None of my actions since meeting her had been typical for me. Her eyes stayed on mine for a few seconds. And whether it was the look on my face, or the definitive tone in my voice, based on her small nod and shy smile, she must have believed me.

  Cassie

  Every word out of the man’s mouth set my insides on fire. Were they just lines he used to get what he wanted? Or was what he said true? Caught in that magnetic pull he had over me, it took a few seconds too long before I could avert my eyes from his in an attempt to school my thoughts.

  “Having you in here makes me want to get in photographer mode. Come.” He shifted his body toward the doorway, continuing the tour. Lifting his hand, he pointed to an open door. “That’s the guest bathroom.” Dante then twisted a brass knob, looking at me with darkened eyes before opening the door.

  Thunder impaired my hearing, knowing there was only one room left… his bedroom. So much could be said about where one slept. Did they use it as their place of solace? Was it decorated in deep rich hues or was it bright and cheerful? Were his walls covered with images of beautiful women?

  Stepping inside, I released a relieved breath at seeing several landscape portraits rather than people. “Did you take these?” His returning nod seemed shy compared to the brazen man he was. The images he captured were mesmerizing, tranquil, hypnotic. The room instantly calmed in an understated way. “They’re stunning.”

  “Thank you.”

  Masculine cologne lingered in the air, forcing me to use every ounce of willpower I had to stop from audibly inhaling. His king-size bed was covered in a dark charcoal duvet. Unlike the collection of throw pillows I had on my bed, Dante had just four covered in burgundy silk pillowcases, propped up against the black-leather tufted headboard.

  My hand itched to graze the fabric, which I was sure to be soft. “Your bed looks extremely comfortable.” Dante quirked a brow. Jesus, Cassie, stop acting like this is the first guy’s bedroom that you’ve seen.

  “Like a cloud.” His lips twisted into a smirk. “Hungry?” God, am I ever. When I didn’t reply right away, Dante chuckled. “Come on, I’ll make dinner.”

  Sitting at his small breakfast bar, I thought that watching Dante gracefully move around his kitchen was something to be seen. After only a few minutes he had zucchini, carrots, cherry tomatoes, and bell peppers on a cutting board. He filled a pot with water and put it next to a sauté pan on the stove.

  Needing to occupy myself with something other than staring, I offered my assistance. “Can I help you with anything?”

  Dante shook his head. “No, I got this. You like pasta, right? You’re not one of those people who don’t eat carbs, are you? Or allergic to gluten?”

  “Me? No, I love carbs and gluten.” Ugh, Cassie. Who says they love gluten? What the hell was wrong with me? “Is there more wine?”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Dante said with a chuckle. “And yes.” He filled my glass and set the bottle down before resuming slicing vegetables as if he were a professional chef. Cords of muscles flexed in his forearm with every slice, chop, and dice. Funny, I never noticed a man’s forearms before meeting him.

  “So both you and your brother like to cook?” I remember Sabrina telling me about the time Luca made dinner for her and won her heart with how much thought he put into it.

  “It’s something my mother and grandmother instilled in us.” Dante walked over to the stove, put olive oil in the frying pan, and dumped in the vegetables. With a wooden spoon he had pulled out from a drawer, he began stirring while seasoning them. “This…” he said, holding up the spoon, “was what kept me and my brother in line. It only took one smack on the ass to know this was more of a weapon than a utensil. After that, our mother just needed to place it on the counter for us to obey.”

  I laughed. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard about an Italian mother and a wooden spoon. “I’ll remember that.”

  “I bet you will.” We stared at each other for a moment before the boiling pot ca
ught his attention.

  “Do you speak with her often? I know Luca does.” I goaded him further. “Or is he the favorite?”

  “No, my little brother is just a kiss-ass. He always tried to outdo me, until I retaliated. But since you’re so concerned, I did speak to her the day after I met you. Of course, I had to tell her about the accident and my warm welcome to the city.”

  The wine I sipped caught in my throat. Through a choppy cough, I sputtered, “You did not. I’ve met her, so to speak, and if you told her anything other than what a jerk you were that night, I might need to set the record straight. You know, Isabella and I are great friends.” Now it was my turn to wink… even though that wasn’t the full truth, it was fun to see him squirm. “Your brother introduced us via Skype one Sunday afternoon.”

  “Thanks for the warning. I’ll be sure to mention to her how I saved your ass when I spoke to the adjuster, not to mention your shy demeanor.”

  “Whatever,” I teased. Maybe goading him wasn’t the best-laid plan.

  Fifteen minutes later, we were sitting at his dining table, enjoying the best pasta I had ever tasted.

  “You like?” Dante asked before sliding a forkful of bow-tie pasta into his mouth.

  “Yes, I like a lot.” Not only did I like the pasta, I also liked the wine, the ambiance he created with soft music and lighting… and him. Oh my God, I liked him.

  Crap.

  Chapter 9

  Dante

  Dinner went better than I had hoped, except I had one problem… a big one. Hearing her moan after every other forkful of pasta made me rock hard. It took all the effort I could muster not to limp to the sofa we now sat on.

  Everything about this woman intrigued me. There was so much to learn about Cassie, and tonight that would happen. Getting to know her on every level was my ultimate goal. Luca spoke so fondly of her, so I knew I needed to tread lightly. She wasn’t just some woman—she was my brother’s best friend.

  “Tell me more about yourself.” I slowly brought my leg up on the cushion and turned to face her. “So far, I know you’re a teacher and aspire to be the next female NASCAR driver.”

  “Ha ha, very funny. What do you want to know?” Cassie nervously bit her bottom lip. “I’m really not that exciting.”

  My head tilted to the side. “No, sorry. I’m not buying that. Have you always wanted to be a school teacher?”

  “Pretty much. I’ve always loved being around kids. When I was a teenager, I’d volunteer as a reading tutor for underprivileged kids. There were so many who never had a bedtime story read to them, it broke my heart. Can you imagine not being able to read?” Her pale-blue eyes softened, but all I could think of was her reading me a story while lying in my bed. My silence prompted her to ask with a grin, “You can read, right?”

  “If I say no, will you read to me in bed?” Granted, reading wouldn’t be the first activity I’d want to partake in between the sheets, but it would be a start. She blinked at me, and then I got a scolding expression I assumed she practiced on her students often. “I’m kidding. I can read. Not one for books, though. I never really have the time to invest in them. I’m more of a… magazine kind of guy.”

  “Magazines, huh?” Her full lips quirked to the side mockingly.

  “Well, you know what they say, men’s magazines are known for their articles.”

  She shimmied her perfect ass on the couch. “Yes, I know. I’ve read them.”

  What? Needing to get the visual that took hold in my mind of a naked Cassie as the centerfold, I brought the subject back to her. “So you know my brother, and apparently my mom as well. Tell me about your family.”

  “Not much to tell. My parents still live in the home I grew up in. I have a brother, Mark. He’s four years older and a cop in Colorado. Boring childhood.”

  “Back up. Your brother’s a cop? I bet that boded well for your boyfriends. Nothing like meeting the girl’s family, especially when one is armed.”

  “That wasn’t an issue. First, I had one boyfriend all through high school. Second, Mark was out of the house by then, so all Sterling needed to worry about were my parents, who loved him. Our parents were friends, and…”

  “Hold on.” I lifted my index finger and asked, “Did you say Sterling? As in silver?”

  Cassie snickered, but then scowled. God forbid she agreed with me. “Yes, I did. He was a very respectable young man.”

  “Hmm… well, that’s your first problem. Where is Master Sterling now?”

  “He has a very prominent dental practice in Stamford, Connecticut. Married to his college sweetheart, and last I heard he had three children and a golden retriever.”

  “He sounds super.” No wonder she was wound like a top. She spent her formidable years with a dude named after flatware. “What caused the demise of your relationship?”

  “Well, he was exactly the type of man my parents wanted me to marry. So instead, I went off to Fordham, moved to Manhattan after graduation, and became a school teacher.” She waved her hand back and forth. “Back to you. You grew up in Milan, right? That had to be exciting.”

  “It was riddled with culture, and I loved living there. I do miss my family, but I feel the States is where I need to be.”

  “Well, Milan rivals New York City as far as fashion goes. Hell, they’re generally a step or two ahead in trends. Wouldn’t it make more sense for you to be there?”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?” I winked. “I’ve been back, and it’s where I got my start. It was during an apprenticeship with a prestigious photographer when he realized I had a unique way of capturing an image. After I graduated, I ended up receiving several lucrative freelance contracts with high-end fashion magazines. From there, I moved around a bit, Chicago, LA, and then ended up here.”

  “When did you start taking pictures?”

  “My nonno…”

  “Aw, that’s so cute that you call your grandfather that.” At my amused pause she added, “Sorry, continue.”

  “Thank you. Anyway, he bought me my first camera for my eleventh birthday. He thought I needed to focus more, and what better way than looking through a viewfinder.” Shrugging, I added, “It was the best gift I’d ever received.”

  She pointed to the portrait on my wall. “So why did you lose touch?”

  My eyes cut to where she indicated. There was no doubt Cassie’s natural thirst for knowledge would steer the line of questioning, so I beat her to the punch. “She’s my ex.”

  Her pretty blue eyes widened in shock. “Oh. Why did you break up?”

  “She was offered a job in Paris that she couldn’t refuse. It was her dream gig, and my work was here.”

  “Why do you still have her picture hanging on your wall? Do you still have feelings for her?” She continued to stare at it, and I may not have known her very well, but I could guess she was secretly comparing.

  “No. You wouldn’t be here if I did.” Cassie’s gaze swung my way. “That picture was my first professional shot. It won me awards, and for the most part catapulted my career overnight. You may just see it as an unusually large picture of my ex in my living room, but to me, it means more than that. To me, it’s not Charlene Dupree, a woman I once dated. It’s the picture that kick-started my credibility as a photographer.” I dragged my thumb over my lower lip, only to notice Cassie’s eyes were no longer pinned to the portrait, but instead to my mouth. God, how I wanted to kiss her.

  “That makes sense. She’s beautiful.”

  “Yes, she is. But she doesn’t hold a candle to you.” Cassie scoffed. “It’s true. You have a natural beauty about you. Trust me, I know what I’m talking about. Even when you’re enraged, you’re stunning.”

  A blush crept up her cheeks. Just like before, she said, “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  And just like before, I repeated, “Actually, I don’t.” Cassie averted her eyes. The woman had no idea how gorgeous she was. Everything about her, from the way she dressed to even her name
, forced a commonality that didn’t fit. I didn’t know why I felt that way, but I couldn’t shake the suspicion that right beneath the surface was an extraordinarily brazen woman. “Is Cassie short for something?” I asked.

  It looked like she didn’t want to say, but then quietly admitted, “Cassandra.”

  “That’s a beautiful name, and much more fitting for you than Cassie.”

  “No one calls me that except for my parents and grandparents.”

  “And me.” She opened her mouth before quickly clamping her lips closed. “Would that bother you if I called you by your given name?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Can I tell you one more thing?”

  Looking back at me, she nodded. “Sure.”

  “I’ve been dying to kiss you all night.”

  Her pink tongue swept over her bottom lip before withdrawing between her teeth. “You have?”

  “Yes. I admitted I wanted to in the elevator. But now we’re here, and I can no longer pretend it’s all I’m thinking about. Tell me you want me to kiss you, Cassandra.” A bubble of hopeful expectation lodged in my ribcage. I waited for her reply, watching the fabric of her blouse tighten with each deep breath.

  “I want you to kiss me, Dante.”

  Her voice was barely above a whisper and sounded more like a plea, but I heard it loud and clear. I framed her heart-shaped face with my hands and drew her closer to me. Our lips were a breath apart. Her sweet perfume attacked my senses, and her soft skin felt like a balm under my palms.

  When her baby blues vanished beneath her lids, my mouth came coaxingly down on hers. At first, our kiss was slow, and our lips took their time to become acquainted. I tilted her head and dragged my tongue over her bottom lip, gently sucking it into my mouth. Cassie’s fingers gripped the back of my head, pulling me even closer.

  Our tongues met, and the connection sent a shockwave of ecstasy through me. She tasted like wine and sweetness—one of my favorite combinations. But Cassie was different than anyone else I had ever kissed. My entire body soared at the thought of making her mine. I wanted more of her… all of her.