the kind Mike’s grandmother used to wear.
Antonio gestured for them to precede him out the door. “After we eat, Mike will take you to my apartment so you can unpack and rest awhile. Later, if you aren’t too tired we’ll have dinner together. Okay?”
“Whatever you say, Uncle Antonio.”
“And take off that coat before you die of heatstroke and your mother makes meatballs out of me.”
She touched the top button with reluctant fingers and then slipped it free. By the time she got to the third one, the sudden tension that had coiled in Mike’s gut about knocked him over.
What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t have time to analyze this odd reaction. She was on the last button.
She pulled the lapels apart and shrugged the bulky fabric off her shoulders, revealing an unattractive, shapeless black dress over hose that were too thick.
Mike let out a disappointed breath and took the coat from her. But the smile she gave him made his insides tighten again. It was the almond-shaped eyes and full lips. He was a sucker for both. Good thing she wasn’t his type. As if he had one after such a long dry spell.
They all got to the hall and Antonio bellowed for Robert to join them. So much for the intercom.
The restaurant was crowded for midafternoon, but Antonio’s regular table was reserved and they were waited on quickly. Everyone ordered pasta but Gina. She wanted a cheeseburger and fries.
As soon as she excused herself to go to the ladies’ room, Antonio chuckled. “A cheeseburger.” He muttered something in Italian. “This is the rebellion my sister is so worried about.”
Robert shook his head. “I kind of feel sorry for her.” His gaze followed Gina. “She’s twenty-three and she looks like forty dressed like that. Maybe Mike should take her shopping.”
Mike snorted. “Yeah, right.”
Antonio tore off a piece of bread from the loaf in the center of the table and then peered at him with open curiosity. “You guys know how to do that kind of stuff, right?”
“Pop.”
Mike caught Robert giving his father the eye. “What do you mean?”
Antonio shrugged and busied himself with slathering enough butter on his bread to clog an artery. “I don’t want her to get crazy, but maybe a nice pink dress would be good. Black is so old-fashioned.”
Mike and Robert exchanged amused looks.
“It’s Sophia. My sister still thinks she lives in the nineteenth century. Black is for mourning.” He looked up and nudged his chin at Mike. “Help her find a nice pink dress. Just not too short, okay?”
Mike grabbed a hunk of bread before he said something he’d regret. Robert damn well better be right. Gina had better prefer spending time at the library or computer, and not Bloomingdale’s and Bergdorf’s. If she wanted to shop, she could find just about anything online.
Robert signaled the waitress for another beer. “Gina went to Catholic boarding school all her life. I’m sure the nuns had a lot of influence on her choice of clothing.”
“Here she comes. Stop talking about her.” Antonio reached for a second piece of bread, and Robert deftly grabbed the butter.
“Come on, Pop. Too much of this stuff isn’t good for you.”
“You, who ordered a second beer in fifteen minutes, is telling me this?”
Mike let the familiar argument fade into the background as he watched Gina approach the table. As conservatively as she was dressed, she didn’t have a timid way of walking or carrying herself. As unbecoming as her hairstyle was, the severity of it accentuated her exotic eyes and full lips, and a couple of heads turned when she passed a table of four men.
Antonio stood when she got to the table, and he gave Robert and Mike the evil eye until they gave in and followed his lead. Gina reclaimed her seat, pressing her lips together as if trying to hide a smile.
She caught Mike watching her and quickly looked away. When Antonio tried to take the butter, the other two started in again. The genuine affection between father and son always impressed Mike, and he barely paid attention to the petty squabbling.
Apparently Gina didn’t, either. She glanced around the restaurant, her hands folded primly on the table, yet barely able to contain the excitement in her eyes.
Poor kid. Had she really been hidden away at a convent school all her life? Mike didn’t doubt it. The Scarpettis clung to some odd traditional values. Even Antonio had his quirks in that department, although he’d never admit it.
Mike continued to watch how her eyes widened with interest as she took in the rowdy but good-natured interplay at the bar. The TV positioned high on the corner wall was showing a baseball game, and some fevered cheering escalated the noise level.
When Cindy, a cocktail waitress in a black miniskirt and a tight blouse endorsing the Mets walked by with a tray of mugs, Gina’s eyes widened even more. She watched the woman deliver the beer to a table and blinked in astonishment when the redhead leaned over to unload the tray. The way the skirt rode up, not much was left to the imagination.
“So, Gina, what kind of things do you like to do?” Mike asked to distract her. And himself.
Her gaze settled on him. “Me? Well, I read a lot.” Her shrug was apologetic. “I sew and I spend time on the computer. I am afraid I do not have a very exciting life.”
“Nothing wrong with that. Mine isn’t all that exciting, either.” Unfortunately that was the truth. All he did was work.
“But this is a city full of fun and excitement and…” Her voice rose with excitement, drawing her uncle and cousin’s attention. She gave them a serene smile.
Antonio gave her a patronizing one back.
Mike sighed. Poor kid. It wouldn’t kill him to show her the sights a little. He’d have to check the entertainment listings. Maybe The Lion King was still on Broadway.
2
GINA WAVED GOODBYE to her uncle and cousin and blew them a kiss as the elevator doors closed. She could not wait to get out of their office and go to the apartment. She loved her family, but she hated the black dress more. Mama had insisted she wear it on the plane, and Gina had figured it was a small price to pay for a month’s freedom in New York City.
“Where is your car?” she asked when they got outside.
Mike gave her a funny look as he stepped off the sidewalk onto the street. “I don’t have one. We’ll take a cab.”
“You do not have one? I thought everybody in America had two cars and two televisions.”
Laughing, Mike raised his arm to hail a cab. “Not in New York they don’t. It would cost too much for me to keep a car here. Anyway, I don’t need one.”
She liked the way his light-brown hair curled at the ends and touched the back of his white collar.
