to cover at the last minute.”
She stood in the center of the room, standing very straight with her chin raised at an elegant, courageous tilt. She could take the heat; he’d grant her that. It wasn’t really her fault. It was Tom Daley’s. But of course, Stephanie didn’t shift the blame. She wasn’t the type.
“No problem. If I can’t find anyone from the banquet department, I’ll do it myself,” she said simply.
He pursed his lips. That wasn’t what he’d wanted at all, having her work late on a Friday night, cramping her social life…or was it? God, this woman was driving him crazy. And unlike so many others, she wasn’t even trying.
“It’s Friday night. I’m sure you have plans.”
He hadn’t meant to turn the conversation in a personal direction. The question had just slipped out. Her eyes widened in surprise.
“Yes, I do have plans,” she admitted, slowly, “but I suppose I can…rearrange them in order to stay a bit longer.”
Meet her boyfriend later, she meant. That image was even more vexing. He moved behind his desk and sat down hard in his chair. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
“I don’t mind, really.”
Her gaze met his again and he felt his temperature rise. She felt it, too. He was sure of it. He could tell by the way she suddenly looked away and stared down at the carpeting, a faint flush rising on her cheeks. She had the face of a Renaissance beauty, a perfect image from a fifteenth-century masterpiece.
He swallowed hard. He had to get her out of his office. Immediately.
The beep of the intercom interrupted his thoughts. He pressed a button and curtly addressed his secretary. “Yes, what is it?”
“A call for Ms. Rossi, on line three. They said it’s an emergency.”
“For me?” Stephanie’s composed expression turned to alarm. “I can take it in my office.”
“No, go ahead—” he insisted. He handed over the phone receiver and pressed the blinking button on the console.
“Hello?” Stephanie greeted the caller. Her expression at first looked quite concerned, then within moments, relaxed and almost amused.
“Yes, Nana,” he heard her say. “No, it’s all right. He isn’t mad….” She glanced up at him, a small smile playing about her lips, as if they shared a private joke. He smiled back, feeling warm all over.
Stephanie finished the conversation quickly and handed back the phone. “Sorry about that.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Nothing serious.” He could see that she was trying hard not to smile, but finally she couldn’t help herself. “You don’t know my family. Their idea of an emergency is running out of sun-dried tomatoes. Or maybe if one of my sisters can’t make it out to Brooklyn for Sunday dinner.”
Matt laughed. He couldn’t help himself. “You have dinner together every Sunday?”
“More or less. You could set your watch by the antipasto platter. It hits the table at one forty-five, precisely. Right after my parents get back from twelve o’clock mass.”
She was making fun of her family, but she didn’t know what it was to grow up without any feelings of warmth and belonging. His fondest memories of mealtimes were sharing dinner with the servants, down in the kitchen.
“It sounds…very nice. Very traditional.”
Stephanie sighed and smiled again. “I guess. They’re not really that bad. Medical excuses are accepted. If you have a signed note from a doctor.”
He laughed again and Stephanie joined him. “Was that your grandmother?”
She nodded. “She couldn’t reach my cell. My grandmother’s card game was canceled so I don’t have to run out to Brooklyn tonight to babysit for my sister. Nana’s going to take over. So I guess I can stay and oversee the banquet.”
Babysitting for her sister. Those were her Friday night plans. She was a nice woman…too nice for him.
“Your grandmother plays cards?”
Stephanie nodded. “Poker. Five card stud, with her ‘posse’ from the neighborhood. Every Friday night…unless there’s something hot going on at St. Anthony’s with the Golden Age Club. She just plays for pennies. She says games of chance keep your brain cells active.”
Matt smiled and caught Stephanie’s eye. “She sounds like quite a character.”
“Definitely,” Stephanie added with a rueful grin. “Maybe it’s something in the water out there. They’re all pretty nutty if you ask me.”
She tucked the report under her arm, looking ready to conclude the conversation, but he was curious to know more.
“So your family lives in Brooklyn?”
“My parents, grandmother and all four sisters, including the three who are married.”
“You have four sisters?” He smiled at the thought of four more versions of Stephanie. “Your poor father. Imagine paying for all those weddings. He must try to bribe you all to elope.”
“I understand he makes an offer that’s almost too good to refuse,” she quipped. “But so far, all my sisters have gone the traditional route. He gets a break from his cousin who owns a catering hall. My youngest sister, Angie, is getting married a few weeks from now.”
“A spring wedding. That is traditional.” Matt eyed Stephanie. He imagined her going the same route, dressed in a long gown and trailing veil. Cream-colored satin would suit her perfectly. She’d be a vision—no doubt about it.
“That’s four down, one to go,” he tallied aloud.
“I’m not in any hurry.” She shrugged. Something in her offhand tone made him think he may have offended her.
“I didn’t mean to imply that you should be,” he said.
“If only my family shared your opinion,” she confided. “My life would be a lot easier.”
“Really? Do they bother you much about it?”
“Only whenever I speak to them, or see them…or have contact of any form.”
He laughed again, but he could see it bothered her. “That’s not a very modern attitude. What about your career? They should be proud of you. You’re excellent at your job and have a great future. You’ve come a long way for someone your age. I really mean it.”
His praise pleased her. He liked bringing that bright smile to her face. It was the only compliment he’d given her all week, though he knew she deserved to hear much more.
“Thank you, Matt. That’s kind of you to say. But no one has ever accused Dominic and Francesca Rossi of harboring a modern attitude.”
Matt
