worried that she and her troubles would drag him down, God knows how he’d react. Would he see her sacrifice for what it had been? Or would he see her act of love as a slur against his manhood? The great Michele Patruno could make kings putty with his fine food, but he couldn’t support the woman he loved?
She rose from her seat. “It’s over now. Water under the bridge. No point in talking about it.”
He sat back, bracing his arms on the chairs on either side of him, looking so sexy and male she could have swooned. “Interesting. I would have thought you’d simply remind me that you didn’t love me.”
Her face reddened. Why hadn’t she just said that? “Why make me repeat it?”
“Why not? If it’s a simple fact, it should be easy to say.”
“After eight years, it shouldn’t matter.”
“After eight years, you shouldn’t stumble over it.”
She shook her head, furious with him for pushing. “Don’t criticize me for not wanting to say something that was hard enough the first time.”
He rose in a movement so swift and fluid she didn’t realize what he was about to do until he caught her wrist. They stood so close she could almost feel his chest rising and falling and the heat coming from his muscled body.
“Is that what you think I’m doing? Criticizing you?”
She lifted her chin, met his gaze. “Aren’t you?”
He shifted a millimeter closer. Everything feminine in her trembled with longing. Reality combined with memories and she had fight not to fall into his arms and beg for another chance. But she’d lost her chance with the Mic she’d loved, and this Mic—Oh, this Mic—might be a little too much for her.
“I’m not criticizing you. I’m just curious. Interested.”
The shimmer that came to his blue eyes scared her silly. Eight years of working in some of Europe’s finest restaurants, meeting some of the world’s most sophisticated people, showed in the way he looked at her, the way he moved, the things he said. This was not her Mic.
“Well, I’m not interested in you.”
“Really?” His voice dropped to an intimate whisper that skimmed across her skin and raised goose flesh. “I can see in your eyes that that’s a lie.”
“You flatter yourself.”
He laughed, but his head began to lower. “Then you won’t mind a little test.”
Her breath shivered. Her heart stalled. He was going to kiss her, but she couldn’t seem to step away. She was interested and she was curious. She knew nothing could ever come of this. He’d hate her if she told him her real reasons for letting him leave. But she wanted one more kiss. One more taste of the man she hadn’t been able to forget in eight long years.
His lips met hers softly, surely. Her eyes drifted shut, as common sense melted away and sensation took over. He expertly guided them on a slow, sensual journey, using his lips and tongue, deepening the kiss until her bones softened and her blood heated.
When he pulled away, his eyes shone. “So no more telling me you’re not interested.”
She blinked. Common sense returned in a dizzying wave. Why the hell had she kissed him?
She grabbed her coat, her coffee and her scone and raced toward the door.
“Lily!”
She stopped.
“This isn’t over.”
But it was. It had to be. The old Mic was gone. She’d chased him away. There was no going back now.
The next day, Mic arrived at Mancini’s early with Rafe to get a jump on the day’s cooking. But he couldn’t have spent another minute in his aunt and uncle’s empty condo, wondering about that kiss, about Lily’s eager response to him. He’d expected her to slap him. Instead, she’d melted. He was glad for the distraction of cooking and reminiscing with Rafe.
Lunchtime approached. He knew the second Lily arrived for her shift. His senses went on heightened alert. The day before, he’d lowered his head slowly enough that she could have stopped his kiss, but she hadn’t. And then she’d kissed him back, like someone who’d been waiting forever to kiss him again.
Even as it warmed his blood, it made no sense.
She walked out into the kitchen tying an apron around her waist. Their gazes met, her dark brown eyes soft, wary. Then she quickly looked away.
Emory, Rafe’s short, bald sous chef, burst into the kitchen. “Have you heard that the Palazzo di Comparino heir has been located?”
Lily gasped. “Oh, my goodness! Chef Rafe! If they reopen the vineyard, your business will triple.”
Rafe said, “I’m counting on that.”
But Mic watched the color in Lily’s cheeks, the way her eyes shone with pleasure, and confusion overwhelmed him again. She was a good person. Yet the way she’d left him had been cruel. He had to remember that. He shouldn’t be telling her this wasn’t over. He shouldn’t even be speaking to her.
But when she came into the kitchen to retrieve her customers’ meals, their hands brushed every time he gave her a plate, sending the warmth of familiarity through him.
When the night wound down and the waitresses and kitchen staff were nearly done with cleanup, he ambled to the dining room.
The other waitresses had finished before Lily, who was busily counting her tips. The kitchen lights went out and Mic knew they were alone.
“I think I’m going to have to walk you to your car.”
Her brown eyes met his. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”
“Maybe you should be.”
She shook her head. “You think you are funny with your macho words and your stupid tricks.”
“I’m just trying to figure everything out.”
The look she gave him was soft with pain. “Don’t. Please. Let it alone.” She raced to undo the door and left before he could even grab his coat.
He stared after her. The woman had hurt him. The pain she’d inflicted had almost cost him his dream. He shouldn’t be curious about why she was still in the town they’d loved.
He shouldn’t care that she was sad.
But he was.
And maybe he was approaching this all wrong?
Maybe there was a better way to uncover the secrets she kept?
