Inwardly he groaned. Why did he have to have his hands full juggling both positions of maître d’ and head chef when the most delicious creature was standing in front of him?
He choked down his regret. It just wasn’t meant to be. Tonight there was no time for flirting—not even with this stunning woman who could easily turn heads on the runways of Milan.
He glanced away from her in order to clear his thoughts. Expectant looks from the people waiting to be seated reminded him of his duties. He turned back to those amazing blue eyes. “I hate to say this, but you’ll have to take your place at the end of the line.”
“It’s okay.” Her pink glossy lips lifted into a knowing smile. “You don’t have to worry. I work here.”
“Here?” Impossible. He’d certainly remember her. By the sounds of her speech, she was American.
“This is Mr. Bianco’s restaurant, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Then I’m in the right place.”
Suddenly the pieces fell into place. His staff had been cut in half because of a nasty virus running rampant throughout Rome. He’d called around to see if any business associates could loan him an employee or two. Apparently when Luigi said he might be able to track down a friend of one of his daughters, he’d gotten lucky.
Relief flooded through Dante. Help was here at last and by the looks of her, she’d certainly be able to draw in the crowds. Not so long ago, they hadn’t needed anyone to draw in customers; his grandfather’s cooking was renowned throughout Rome. But in recent months all of that had changed.
“And I’d be the luckiest man in the world to have such a beauty working here. You’ll have the men lined up down the street. Just give me a moment.” Dante turned and signaled to the waiter.
When Michael approached Dante, the man’s forehead was creased in confusion. “What do you need?”
In that moment, Dante’s mind drew a blank. All he could envision were those mesmerizing blue eyes. This was ridiculous. He had a business to run.
When he glanced over at the line of customers at the door, the anxious stares struck a chord in his mind. “Michael, could you seat that couple over there?” He pointed to an older couple. “Give them the corner table. It’s their fortieth anniversary, so make sure their meal is on us.”
“No problema.”
Lines of exhaustion bracketed Michael’s mouth. Dante couldn’t blame the guy. Being shorthanded and having to see to the dining room himself was a lot of work.
Dante turned his attention back to his unexpected employee. She had her arms crossed and her slender hip hitched to the side. A slight smile pulled at the corners of her lush lips as though she knew she’d caught him off guard—something that rarely happened to him.
He started to smile back when a patron entered the door and called out a greeting, reminding Dante that work came first. Since his grandfather was no longer around to help shoulder the burden of running this place, Dante’s social life had been reduced to interaction with the guests of Ristorante Massimo.
After a brief ciao to a regular patron, Dante turned back to his temporary employee. “Thanks for coming. If you give me your coat, I can hang it up for you.”
“I’ve got it.” She clutched the lapels but made no attempt to take it off.
“You can hang it over there.” He pointed to the small cloakroom. “We can work out everything later.”
“You want me to start right now?”
That was the plan, but perhaps Luigi had failed to make that part clear. “Didn’t he tell you that you’d be starting right away?”
“Yes, but I thought I’d have a chance to look around. And I didn’t think I’d be a hostess.”
“Consider this an emergency. I promise you it’s not hard. I’m certain you’ll be fantastic...uh...” Did she give him her name? If she had, he couldn’t recall it. “What did you say your name is?”
“Lizzie. Lizzie Addler.”
“Well, Lizzie, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Dante. And I really appreciate you pitching in during this stressful time.”
“Are you sure you want me out here? I’d be a lot more help in the kitchen.”
The kitchen? With her looks, who would hide such a gem behind closed doors? Perhaps she was just shy. Not that anything about her stunning appearance said that she was an introvert.
“I’d really appreciate it if you could help these people find a table.”
She nodded.
An assistant rushed out of the kitchen. “We need you.”
By the harried look on the young man’s face, Dante knew it couldn’t be good. He turned to his new employee. There would be time for introductions and formalities later. Right now, he just needed to keep the kitchen from falling behind and giving the patrons an excuse to look for food elsewhere.
“Sorry for this rush but I am very shorthanded.” When the girl sent him a puzzled look, he realized that Luigi might not have filled her in on the details of her duties. “If you could just get everyone seated and get their drinks, Michael can take their orders. Can you do that?”
She nodded before slipping off her long black coat to reveal a frilly white blouse that hinted at her willowy figure, a short black skirt that showed off her long legs and a pair of knee-high sleek black boots. He stifled a whistle. Definitely not the reaction a boss should give an employee, even if she was gorgeous enough to create a whirlwind of excitement on the cover of a fashion magazine.
He strode to the kitchen, hoping that nothing had caught fire and that no one had been injured. When was this evening going to end? And had his grandfather’s friend Luigi been trying to help by sending Lizzie? Or trying to drive him to distraction?
Once the kitchen was again humming along, he retraced his steps just far enough to catch a glimpse of the blonde bombshell. She moved about on those high-heeled boots as if they were a natural extension of her long legs. He swallowed hard as his eyes followed her around the dining room. He assured himself that he was just doing his duty by checking up on her.
When she smiled and chatted with a couple of older gentlemen, Dante’s gut tightened. She sure seemed far more at ease with those men than when he’d been talking with her. How strange. Usually he didn’t have a problem making conversation with the female gender. Lizzie was certainly different. Too bad she wouldn’t be around long enough to learn more about her. She intrigued him.
* * *
Obviously there was a misunderstanding.
Lizzie Addler frowned as she locked the front door of Ristorante Massimo. She hadn’t flown from New York to Italy to be a hostess. She was here to work in the kitchen—to learn from the legendary chef, Massimo Bianco. And to film a television segment to air on the culinary channel’s number-one-rated show. It was a dream come true.
The
