When he coaxed open her mouth, the taste of wine greeted her, along with a thrill so strong it spiraled through her like a tornado. The urge to press herself against him trembled through her. She’d never felt anything so powerful, so wanton. She stepped closer, enjoying sensations so intense they stole her breath.
His hands trailed from her shoulders, down her back to her bottom and that’s when everything became real. What was she doing kissing someone when she had a marriage proposal waiting for her in New York?
NOTHING IN RAFE’S life had prepared him for the feeling of his lips against Dani’s. He told himself it was absurd for an experienced man to think one kiss different from another, but even as that thought floated to him, her lips moved, shifted, and need burst through him. She wasn’t a weak woman, his Dani. She was strong, vital, and she kissed like a woman starving for the touch of a man. The kind of touch he longed to give her. And the affair was back on the table.
Suddenly, Dani jumped back, away from him. “You can’t kiss me.”
The wildness in her eyes mirrored the roar of need careening through him. The dew of her mouth was sprinkled on his lips. His heart pounded out an unexpected tattoo, and desire spilled through his blood.
He smiled, crossed his arms on his chest and leaned against the old car. “I think I just did.”
“The point is you shouldn’t kiss me.”
“Because we work together?” He glanced to the right. “Bah! You Americans and your puritanical rules.”
“Oh, you hate rules? What about commitments? I’m engaged!”
That stopped the need tumbling through him. That stopped the sweet swell of desire. That made him angry that she’d led him on, and feel stupid that he hadn’t even suspected that a woman as pretty and cheerful as his Dani would have someone special waiting at home.
“I see.”
She took three steps back, moving herself away from her own transportation. “I didn’t mean to lead you on.” She groaned and took another step back. “I didn’t think I was leading you on. We were talking like friends.”
He shoved off the car. “We were.”
“So why’d you kiss me?”
He shrugged, as if totally unaffected, though a witch’s brew of emotions careered through him like a runaway roller coaster. “It felt right.” Everything about her felt right, which only annoyed him more.
She took another step away from him. “Well, it was wrong.”
“If you don’t stop your retreat, you’re going to end up back in the tavern.”
She sucked in a breath.
He opened her car door. “Get in. Go home. We’re fine. I don’t want you skittering around like some frightened mouse tomorrow. Let’s just pretend that little kiss never happened.”
He waited, holding open the door for her until he realized she wouldn’t go anywhere near her car while he stood beside it. Anger punched up again. Still, keeping control, he moved away.
She sighed with relief and slid into her car.
He calmly started the walk to his condo, but when he got inside the private elevator he punched the closed door, not sure if he was angry with himself for kissing her or angry, really angry, that she was engaged. Taken.
He told himself not to care. Were they to have an affair, it would have been short because she was leaving, returning to America.
And even if she wasn’t, even if they’d been perfect for each other, he didn’t do relationships. He knew their cost. He knew he couldn’t pay it.
When the elevator doors opened again, he stepped out and tossed his keys on a convenient table in the foyer of his totally remodeled condo on the top floor of one of Monte Calanetti’s most beautiful pale stone buildings. The quiet closed in on him, but he ignored it. Sometimes the price a man paid for success was his soul. He put everything he had into his meals, his restaurant, his success. He’d almost let one woman steal his dream—he wouldn’t be so foolish as to even entertain the thought a second time.
* * *
The next day he worked his magic in the kitchen, confident his attraction to Dani had died with the words I’m engaged. He didn’t stand around on pins and needles awaiting her arrival. He didn’t think about her walking into the kitchen. He refused to wonder whether she’d be happy or angry. Or ponder the way he’d like to treat her to a full-course meal, watch the light in her eyes while she enjoyed the food he’d prepare especially for her...
Damn it.
What was he doing thinking about a woman who was engaged?
He walked through the dining room, checking on the tables, opening the shutters on the big windows to reveal the striking view, not at all concerned that she was late, except for how it would impact his restaurant. So when the sound of her bubbly laugher entered the dining room, and his heart stopped, he almost cursed.
Probably not seeing him in the back of the dining room, she teased with Allegra and Gio, a clear sign that the kiss hadn’t affected her as much as it had affected him. He remembered the way she’d spoken to him the night before. One minute she was sad, confiding, the next she would say something like, “You should stop that.” Putting him in his place. Telling him what to do. And he wondered, really, who had confided in whom the night before?
Walking to the kitchen, he ran his hand along the back of his neck. Had he really told her about his family? Not that it was any great secret, but his practice was to remain aloof. Yet, somehow, wanting to comfort her had bridged that divide and he’d talked about things he normally kept out of relationships with women.
As he approached a prep table, Emory waved a sheet of paper at him. “I’ve created the schedule for Daniella. I’m giving her two days off. Monday and Tuesday. Two days together, so she can sightsee.”
His heart stuttered a bit, but he forced his brain to focus on work. “And just who will seat people on Monday and Tuesday?”
“Allegra has been asking for more hours. I think she’ll be fine in the position as a stand-in until, as Daniella suggested, we hire two people to seat customers.”
He ignored the comment about Daniella. “Allegra is willing to give up her tips?”
“She’s happy with the hourly wage I suggested.”
“Great. Fine. Wonderful. Maybe you should deal with staff from now on.”
Emory laughed. “This was a one-time thing. A favor to Daniella. I’m a chef, too. I might play second to you, but I’m not a business manager. In fact, you’re the one who’s going to take this to Dani.”
Ignoring the thump of his heart at having to talk to her, Rafe snatched the schedule sheet out of Emory’s hands and walked out of the kitchen, into the dining room.
His
