Romano's Revenge. Sandra Marton

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Romano's Revenge - Sandra Marton

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hey, you couldn’t expect a babe like that to have everything.

      Not even, as it turned out, a way to make a graceful exit from the cake.

      To put it bluntly, the lady was a monumental klutz.

      While the top part of her had been coming up out of the cake, the bottom had gotten tangled in the cardboard. Or in something. Whatever, Blondie had emerged maybe halfway and then she’d gotten this panicked look, started to flail her arms around…

      Which was when he’d gone into his Sir Galahad act, Joe thought, wincing as he rubbed his hands over his stubbled face.

      The leap onto the stage. The quick move, grabbing her and hoisting her free of the box.

      And then, that kiss.

      That kiss. Not just a kiss. A long, deep, hot kiss. And for no good reason, except that she was there and so was he.

      Well, yeah. There’d been a reason. It had to do with the stunned look in her eyes, and the soft feel of her in his arms. The smell of her, too. Gardenias, maybe. Or roses. The old-fashioned kind.

      “Hello, honey,” he remembered saying, and then he’d given her the kind of long, appreciative look her face, her figure, her sexy outfit demanded…

      Until he got to her feet, and those shoes. Those homely, sensible, I’m-not-what-you-think-I-am shoes. He’d wanted to laugh. To tell her that a woman with her looks could wear clogs, for all he cared, and she’d still look like—

      Like what? a clear, calm voice in his head had said.

      Like a woman who needed to be kissed, he’d thought in response.

      That was when he’d kissed her.

      If only he could stop the action right there. Just stop it, cut it, edit it out like a bad piece of videotape…

      Joe sat up. There was no getting away from the memory, the part he’d never live down.

      The part when Blondie, without a moment’s hesitation, balled up her fist and caught him with a right, just behind his ear.

      “Double damn,” Joe muttered, and swung his feet to the floor.

      The other guys had loved it. The leap. The kiss. Her swing. His yelp of surprise. Her squirming out of his arms and rushing off-stage with the little guy in the white suit running after her…

      Oh, yeah. He’d made an ass of himself, all right.

      “Bozo and the Bachelor Party,” Joe said, and huffed out a breath.

      “Way to go, Romano,” somebody had yelled.

      “Drunk as a skunk, huh, Joe?” some other wag had shouted.

      He’d let them think so. It made things easier on the old ego if people thought he’d had one too many, but the truth was, he hadn’t. A glass or two of wine at Nonna’s and a bottle of beer at the party weren’t enough to turn a man’s brains to mush.

      By the time they’d served what they’d humorously called a midnight supper at the bachelor bash, he was hungry. But, after one cautious, awful bite, he’d put down his fork. Whoever had hired the caterer deserved to be ridden out of town on a rail.

      Joe sighed.

      After the night he’d had, was it any wonder his head hurt? First that unwanted gift from Nonna. Then a shot to the head from Blondie, although it really hadn’t hurt anything but his ego. You’d think she’d been wearing a nun’s habit instead of a handful of stretchy stuff sprinkled with glitter…

      The phone rang. He grabbed it and growled hello before its vicious trill could puncture his eardrums.

      “Joe, my man. How’re you doing?”

      Moving nothing but his eyes wasn’t easy, but Joe managed. According to his alarm clock, it was just after seven.

      “You’d better have a good reason for calling me at this hour,” Joe said sourly. He winced at his brother’s chuckle. “And hold down the noise, okay?”

      “I guess that answers my question,” Matt said. “Big night, huh?”

      “Long night. “ Joe winced and snatched the phone from his ear. “What’s that noise? Sounds like a semi, blasting an air horn.”

      “It is,” Matt said cheerfully. “Susannah and I are on our way to the airport. We’re flying to New York for a long weekend.”

      “Yeah. Great.”

      “You could manage to sound a little more enthusiastic.”

      “That’s about all the enthusiasm I can work up in the middle of the night.”

      “It’s not the middle of the night.”

      “It is, for civilized people.”

      Matt laughed. “See? I told Susie it wouldn’t be a good idea to drop by.”

      “Damned right. I’ve killed people for less.”

      “Yeah, I told her that, too. So we decided we’d phone to wish you a happy birthday in advance.”

      “A happy…” Joe raked his hand through his hair. “What is this, a family project? First Nonna, now you.”

      “Nonna told me about the gift she gave you.”

      Joe heaved a sigh. “She did, huh?”

      “She means well,” Matthew said, and chuckled.

      “It isn’t funny.”

      “At least she seems to have backed away from the Get Joseph Married plan.”

      “The good news and the bad news,” Joe said, and sighed again.

      “Well, happy birthday, baby brother.”

      “Thanks. And remind that gorgeous wife of yours that I’m available any time she’s ready to admit she made a mistake.”

      “Keep dreaming.”

      Joe laughed. “Have a good time in New York,” he said, and hung up the phone.

      Okay. He felt a little better now. Still, he moved gingerly as he headed for the bathroom. A pair of aspirin would improve things.

      Cautiously, he fingered the skin behind his ear where Blondie had hit him. A grin crept across his mouth.

      Who’d have thought such a delicate-looking woman could have clobbered him like that?

      Delicate, was right. Almost fragile. There hadn’t been much of her, when he’d held her in his arms. Well, that wasn’t true. She was small, and slender, but the package was nicely put together.

      High, round breasts. A waist his hands could almost span. Good hips. A sweet, firm little butt.

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