‘I think I hate you.’
He laughed. ‘Then concentrate. Tell me what you thought about the shop.’
‘The ice cream was good. The service was fine. The prices are about the same as mine. Oh, and the décor was terrible.’
‘What do they do that you don’t?’
‘I … have no idea,’ she admitted. ‘More flavours?’
‘They offer sandwiches. Hot drinks. So they can keep tourists happy in the winter months.’
And then he staggered her by rattling off a detailed analysis of the shop. What it was doing wrong, what it was doing right, where it was beating her, where Tonielli’s scored higher.
How had he got all that from just one little visit—a visit where he’d seemed to be paying more attention to her than anything else, flirting with her and feeding her ice cream from his spoon and getting her to do the same to him?
A skateboarder pushed past them, causing her to move closer to Dante. And then she discovered that her mentor wasn’t quite as unaffected by her proximity as he claimed. He was definitely hard for her.
Wanting to get her own back—just a little bit—and knowing that she was seriously crossing a line here, she licked her lower lip. Slowly. She let her gaze drop to his mouth, then back up to his eyes. Well, to his sunglasses. But she was pretty sure he wasn’t missing a trick behind those dark lenses.
‘You’re playing with fire, Princess,’ he warned her.
She knew that. Her body remembered just how hot he was. ‘About last night …’
‘We agreed to forget it.’
‘But I wasn’t fair to you.’ She’d taken her pleasure from him, and given him nothing in return. And that felt wrong.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘Lost for words, Dante?’
He gave her a slow, wicked smile. Leaned forward. Touched his mouth to hers.
And it was like lighting touchpaper.
She became dimly aware of catcalls and whistles from a group of passing teenagers, and pulled back from him. His mouth was swollen and reddened, and she’d just bet that hers was in the same state.
And she couldn’t say a single thing.
‘Now who’s lost for words?’ he asked.
She blew out a breath. ‘This is supposed to be business. But.’ She swallowed hard. ‘You and me—this is getting in the way.’
‘You said you were going to wear something frumpy. So we could both concentrate.’
She spread her hands. ‘This is as frumpy as I get.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Do-me heels and tight jeans?’
He was blaming her for this? ‘You’re the one wearing the do-me jacket and touchable denim.’
‘Maybe you need to find yourself another mentor.’
‘There isn’t anyone else I can ask. If Nonno thinks I’m struggling, he’ll take over again and that’s not fair. He’s seventy-three. He deserves a chance to relax with Nonna and have some fun.’
‘What about your old boss in London?’
She shook her head. ‘She’s ill. It wouldn’t be fair to ask her. And I’m not asking Emilio Mancuso.’
‘What’s wrong with him?’
‘I …’ She grimaced. ‘Nothing I can put my finger on.’
‘But your instincts tell you no.’
She nodded. ‘So there’s only you I can ask.’
‘Scraping the bottom of the barrel, hmm?’
‘No. You were my first choice. You know what you’re doing. I could learn a lot from you.’
‘But?’
She sighed. ‘But it doesn’t help when you turn up looking like sex on legs. When you feed me ice cream from your spoon and give me smouldering looks.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you saying you want to do me, Princess?’
God, yes. She shivered. ‘I don’t normally behave like this.’
‘No?’
So he did know about London. She felt her face redden. ‘You provoked me.’
‘Not that much. You could’ve called a halt at any time.’
Yes. Which was exactly what she’d planned to do. But the touch of his skin against hers had pushed everything out of her head. Besides, it hadn’t been completely one-sided. He’d started it. And if he was that uninterested, why was he touching her now? ‘Your hands are still on my bottom,’ she informed him. ‘And there are …’ She gave a delicate cough. ‘Other signs, shall we say.’
‘So there are.’ He sighed. ‘OK. I admit it. I have the hots for you. And, judging by last night, it’s mutual.’
‘We don’t even like each other. You think I’m a spoiled princess.’
‘You are. And, since we’re telling it like it is, you think I’m … ?’
‘A workaholic. Someone who wouldn’t know how to begin to have fun.’
‘A dull boy, hmm?’ He shrugged. ‘Bottom line, Princess, this isn’t going to work. You’re looking for someone to give you a good time. And I don’t have space in my life for someone who’s going to stamp her foot every time I’m late for dinner, or when I don’t want to go to a party because I have more important things to do with my time than listen to tedious people spouting their opinion about something they know nothing about, or talking drivel about trivial things.’
‘I don’t stamp my feet,’ she said, glowering at him.
‘Metaphorically, you’re doing it right now.’
‘So why did you agree to be my mentor?’ She still didn’t quite understand that.
‘Because I owe Gino.’
‘You owe Nonno? Why?’
‘He gave me a break when I was younger, taught me a few things about business. So helping you out of trouble is kind of payback.’
She felt deflated. So he wasn’t doing this because he liked her.
‘You’re right. I don’t like you,’ he agreed—as if she’d said it out loud. Or maybe it was written all over her face. ‘I don’t like what you stand for.
