suite as long as needed. Take care. Nick.
Tiffany read the note once, twice, and a third time, trying to find a deeper, more personal message between the words of the brief, impersonal one she held in her hand. There was no term of endearment, not even a “dear Tiffany” at the beginning. “Brown sugar,” as he’d called her much of last evening, was nowhere on the paper. There was no mention of the magical hours they’d shared, no reference to the intimacy that had rocked Tiffany’s world off its axis. No thank you for the dinner company or the extra dessert provided by her body in the early morning hours. No, just a clinical explanation of his whereabouts, a charitable gift of a temporary roof over her head, and departing verbiage she might use with a customer, a stranger, or the cashier in the express checkout line: take care. Take care? It was impersonal and dismissive, like cold water poured unexpectedly on a warm dream.
Tiffany slowly crumpled the paper as she walked over to the window and looked out on a picture-perfect day. The sun was shining outside, but the warmth inside had gone. Once again she felt like the frightened young woman who’d slouched on her luggage in the airport, robbed of money and of spirit. She felt rejected, abandoned, easily tossed aside for something more important: business. The feelings of discomfort around Nick that had flittered in between the love and laughter came back full force. How she’d felt when he’d taken control of the situation without conferring with her at all, his domineering and know-it-all attitude with the airport officials and officers (even though he needed to dominate the situation and did seem to know it all), and this, the way he’d been able to leave her so easily without so much as a hug and good-bye. In an instant, clarity dawned, why these acts had made her so uncomfortable, and why they felt so familiar. It was because these actions reminded her of another man and another time, someone Tiffany detested and hadn’t seen in almost five years…her father.
10
Thinking about her father, Keith Bronson, spurred Tiffany to action. Just as his actions had hardened her emotions—when he chose business over time with his daughter—Tiffany allowed the anger with Nick to build, quickly burning up the memory of their passion-filled night. She’d retrieved Tuffy from the bedroom after reading Nick’s thoughtless note, but now threw the bear on the sofa and went to get her computer. Moments later, headset in place, Tiffany used Skype to phone Joy.
“Tiffany!” Joy answered. “It’s about time you called! What time is it there, anyway? I’ve been waiting, impatiently I might add, to hear from you. Tell me everything!”
“I feel like crap,” Tiffany began, and then proceeded to tell Joy what had happened since they’d hugged goodbye at LAX Airport. From first seeing Nick on the plane, getting her purse stolen, meeting Chef Riatoli, and her near one-night stand with Nick. “It’s a good thing we didn’t do it,” she finished. “Then I’d really feel like a ho.”
“I don’t see why,” Joy countered. “You’re in Rome, darling. You’re supposed to have one-night stands, didn’t you know? You’re much too hard on yourself. We’re talking sex here, not surgery. I told you to loosen your butt up. And you went Zane, sistah! Now, aren’t you glad you packed that dress? Looks like it did what it was supposed to!”
“What? Get wined, dined, and dumped? Thanks a lot.”
“You are most welcome,” Joy responded. “Anything for a friend. Look, you’re approaching this situation from an entirely skewed perspective. Here’s how I see it. You’ve met a fabulous man who owns a variety of businesses. So what that he had to leave you in a penthouse suite for as long as you need, while he takes care of business? He did say you could stay as long as you need it, right? Why are you trying to block your blessing, girl? You can save the money you were going to spend on an apartment and live in luxury’s lap in the process, for a whole month!”
“Please, Joy. I won’t be beholden to any man, especially for this kind of money. As it is, this one night is probably breaking my budget. And I’m determined to pay him back. Look, I’ve got to go. I need to find out if my checks or new debit card have arrived and get moved to the place where I’ll be staying, the one I can afford. I’ll call you back once I get settled.”
“You’d better. And remember what I said, Tiffany. Don’t crawl back into that shell where you feel so safe and comfortable. While you’re over there in Italy? Go Zane.”
11
Nick’s brow furrowed as he disconnected the call to Italy and placed his iPhone on the table. He’d fully expected Tiffany to still be at the hotel, and he wasn’t ready to admit how uncomfortable it made him that she’d rebuffed his generous suite offer and moved on. But given the quickness with which he’d had to leave the hotel in order to catch the first flight out, he’d figured offering her the use of his personal suite was the least he could do. Fortunately for him, the fire at Le Sol had been contained before it could spread to the restaurant, spa, gift shop, lounge areas, or any of the upper floors. The lobby would have to be gutted and redone, but things could have been much worse. Thanks to an all-inclusive insurance policy, the damage would be loss of time more than anything else. And most important, the worker who’d threatened to sue because of the gas leak that started the fire in the first place, had agreed to settle the matter out of court. All of this business had been handled the first day of Nick’s arrival back in Los Angeles. He’d gone home, showered, and slept. His first thought after waking was of Tiffany, his first action to contact her. But to no avail; management informed him that Tiffany had checked out of the hotel the night before.
Nick walked into his kitchen and put on water for tea, still thinking of Tiffany. He’d been upset when she’d abruptly ended their lovemaking, leaving him hard and frustrated. But in the hours that followed, the frustration had turned into a fantastical, determined desire to finish what they’d started, to run his hands over the entire length of her smooth, supple body, to massage her heavy breasts and once again worship at her feminine shrine. He continued to tell himself that now was not the time for another serious relationship. He hadn’t yet forgotten the hurt that Angelica had caused, and he knew the current hotel project would take his entire focus. Still, he couldn’t get Tiffany out of his mind, the chivalrous streak of protectiveness once again blossoming where she was concerned. Where was she staying in Rome? Who was helping her navigate that sometimes unpredictable city? Then, remembering that Tiffany was there to work with his friend Emilio, it occurred to Nick how he’d reestablish connection with the woman who’d stirred his heart as well as his penis. He walked purposely to the living room and picked up his phone. The first call was to the AnticaPesa restaurant, the second, to his secretary.
“Christina, I need something done right away,” he said as a greeting when his assistant answered the phone.
Even though it was Saturday, her off-day, Christina knew better than to point this out or act in any way other than ready to do her boss’s bidding. “Yes, Nick?”
“I need a large bouquet of flowers sent to AnticaPesa as soon as possible. Address them to Tiffany Matthews. Include this note…”
12
During the month she stayed in Rome, Tiffany rarely found the time to “go Zane” or anything else. For ten to twelve hours a day, she’d been at the elbow of Chef Riatoli, preparing sauces, making pasta, and mastering the intricacies of superior seafood preparation. At night, she was too tired to do much of anything but sleep. Her roommate at the apartment, a woman from England in Rome to perfect her Italian, tried to get her out and about to embrace the city; but aside from a couple days aboard an “on and off” tour bus, seeing such popular tourist sites as the Colosseum, Forum, Pantheon, and the now infamous Trevi Fountain, and a wonderfully enlightening afternoon at the Vatican, Tiffany could have just as well been in Rome,
