The Devil Served Desire (16 page)

He came around the other side and slid into the driver's seat of the Ferrari, then put it in gear and roared forward. Maria's silky dress slid against the cream leather seat. She braced herself with a hand on the dash.

"Am I going too fast for you?"

"A little."

He chuckled. "You haven't seen anything yet." And he depressed the accelerator again, commanding the winding streets of Boston with the skill of a teenager at the helm of Mortal Kombat.

A few minutes later, they arrived at a ritzy downtown restaurant. Antonio pulled up to the valet, handed over the Ferrari, then joined Maria on her side. Together, they walked into the restaurant, Antonio's arm slipping in against her waist.

"You look beautiful," he whispered in her ear.

She glanced at him to see if he was lying, but his gaze was clear. "Not the same as in high school."

"Better," he murmured. "More of a woman now."

Whew. It was warm in here. She might have to get home and get out of this dress soon.

Antonio nuzzled against her hair.

Very soon.

The diet had been a success, even with only a few pounds of loss. As had her almost calorie-free day. If she could just refrain from eating tonight, too, she'd be okay. Otherwise, Maria knew the first big bite she had would make her explode at the seams like an overfilled Mylar balloon.

Within a few minutes, they were seated and had ordered. Antonio asked the waiter for a martini and a bottle of Soave.

"I don't really drink," Maria said.

"Don't worry," he told her, leaning forward, his hand grasping hers. "I'll be joining you." When he looked at her like that, refusal didn't seem to be an option.

At least with the menu she managed to stick to her resolution. She went with the skinless chicken topped with roasted vegetables with a side salad.

For dessert, she'd have a bowl of Antonio. With whipped cream and extra chocolate sauce on the side.

After the waiter left, she watched him sip his martini, and told herself this was exactly what she wanted. A date with a sexy man. A no-strings, no expectations evening. A fun time in bed and a kiss good-bye in the morning.

She didn't want someone else's slippers on her bedroom floor. Another's towel hanging on her shower door. Someone else's coat taking up the second hook by the door.

Been there, done that. Only an idiot whacked her head against the same wall twice.

Antonio put his glass down and reached for her hand. "It's been a long time, Maria."

She sipped her wine. The Soave went down smooth and easy. "More years than I care to count. Makes me feel old."

"Oh, you aren't old. You're just better." The smile that crossed his lips told her the exact kind of better he was anticipating.

"And you're still the same flirt as always."

"I do my best to live up to my reputation," he said, grinning. They exchanged small talk until the waiter came by, depositing their meals with a minimum of interruption.

Worried about potential Lycra stressing, Maria picked at her chicken, leaving half her plate untouched. What she had eaten was delicious and it took tremendous self-restraint not to dive across the table and suck down Antonio's lobster casserole. She stuck instead to beverages, especially the wine.

Wine held virtually no calories and beverages, she reasoned, didn't boast the same dress-straining properties as solid food.

From his side of the table, Antonio flirted just enough to let Maria know he was still interested. Very interested.

Clearly, he hadn't noticed the extra pounds. Or maybe he had, and didn't care.

And why did she care what he thought so much, anyway? If he were that shallow that he would reject her over a dress size, then Dante was right—she needed to start pulling from the deep end of the dating pool.

Maria bit into a sliver of chicken and swallowed that thought. Dante, right? Well, she certainly wouldn't tell him that.

"What's on your mind,
bignole?
"

"Oh, nothing," Maria lied. "Just lost in the company."

Antonio shoved his empty plate to the edge of the table, placing his silverware in precise straight lines atop the white china surface. "Do you remember those days in high school?"

She took a gulp of her wine and caught his gaze. "Oh, yeah."

"They were fun, weren't they?"

She smiled and took another long sip, trying not to look at the half-eaten dinner, which had been so delicious ... too delicious. "Lots of good memories."

Antonio removed his napkin from his lap and folded it into precise quarters, then laid it on the table to his right. "And do you remember, in English class, how you'd help me sometimes?"

"Do your homework is more like it," she teased. "Did you ever read a word of Shakespeare?"

"Only the sex scenes." He grinned.

"Just what I thought. You missed a lot of great literature."

"I was too busy staring at you. I couldn't keep my mind on all those silly plays."

She flushed and took another sip from her goblet. When she placed it on the table again, Antonio drew the bottle out of the marble wine caddy and refilled the glass. "I wasn't going to have any more wine," she said.

"Life is about indulging," Antonio said, pouring. "Drink deeply of it."

"Now
that
sounds like Shakespeare."

"See, I learned something while I was staring at your legs." He grinned and signaled to the waiter for another martini. Then he steepled his hands and directed the full force of his gaze on her face. "I have a... proposition for you."

She picked up her glass to sip again, and realized she was more tipsy than she thought. Heat flooded her face and flushed against her chest. Maria lowered the goblet to the table without drinking. She should have eaten more. She felt so... empty inside. It had to be the beverage dinner.

"The way you say it, it sounds illegal," she said.

"No, no, nothing illegal. Just a little... help." He smiled.

The waiter came by with Antonio's second martini. "Can I interest you in dessert?"

"No," Antonio said. "We have plans for dessert." And he sent Maria a wink that made the flush on her chest flame red.

And yet, the empty feeling seemed to multiply. She reached for her goblet and drained it, trying to fill whatever was missing.

It didn't work. It did, however, make the room start to spin in a very interesting way.

The waiter nodded. "I’ll be back momentarily with your bill."

Antonio reached for his wallet. "Let me settle this and then we'll talk back at your place."

The wine had settled into her like a comfy blanket and she leaned against the soft chair, a happy grin on her face. "Sure."

By the time they got back to Maria's apartment, the happy feeling had begun to wear off, replaced by one of exhaustion. She slumped against her leather sofa, trying her best to maintain decent posture so the Lycra wouldn't have to do the work of Hercules to hold her body in the dress. "So... what was this idea you mentioned?" Some of the words kind of blurred together in her head. Had they come out that way, too?

Antonio took the seat beside her on the caramel love seat, turning so that his arm draped over the back of the couch and his fingers toyed with her hair. Ah, that felt good. Sort of like a scalp massage by dwarves. Maria smiled.

"I don't want to talk about work now," he said, his voice all deep and throaty, coming to her as if through a tunnel. "Not with you looking so beautiful."

She smiled. "I take it you don't want me for my mind, then?"

Antonio chuckled. "Since when has that ever been my focus?" He reached out a hand and cupped her breast, his thumb rolling over the nipple through the fabric with an expert touch that said he'd done it a hundred times before and knew what would make her turn on like a spigot.

But for some reason, this time it didn't work. Maybe it was the wine. The heat of the room. The fact that she'd barely consumed three hundred calories all day.

"Maria," Antonio whispered, moving his face closer and his hand into a more aggressive grip.

"Antonio—"

"Ah, baby, I love the way you say my name." Then he closed his eyes and kissed her.

She felt—

Nothing. His kiss, which had seemed so wonderful before now felt about as exciting as hanging Nonna's girdle on the clothesline. There was no answering zing from her hormones. They'd all gone on hiatus.

Or maybe, David had broken her heart so damned well that it had turned off the connection to her libido, too.

Dante
, her mind reminded her, made her hormones stand at attention.
Dante
awakened those nerve endings.
Dante
succeeded where Antonio—

"No," she said against his mouth, then pulled back, the room a wild kaleidoscope. "I'm sorry, Antonio, but I can't do this. Not tonight."

His hand moved up to cup her face as gentle as he would handle a butterfly. "What's the matter,
bignole?
"

"I-I—don't feel so well," she managed. And she didn't.

Her stomach, filled with more wine than food, rebelled against her. She could feel it rolling and pitching, a ship caught in a hurricane. She scrambled backward, trying for purchase on the leather sofa, but the silky dress was having none of that. The fabric was made for sliding off easily, not helping her get to the bathroom before—

Too late. Her dinner and her wine made a return appearance on Antonio's pants.

"Oh, my God," she said. "I'm so sorry, Antonio. Let me—"

He was already backing away from her, fast as a germophobe encountering a flu sufferer. "No, let me. You're obviously not, ah, well." He glanced at his pants, bit back a look of disgust, then gave her a wobbly smile. "I'll get cleaned up and leave you alone."

Maria moaned and flopped back against the sofa. Big mistake. Like a greased pig, she slid off the love seat and landed with a thud on the floor.

She lay there, figuring it was the only safe place to be until her stomach settled, and vowed never, ever to go on another diet.

In the morning she would play Megabucks. At this point, becoming a millionaire was her only hope of ever getting laid again.

Vinny's True-Love-is-Hot Deviled Chicken

1/2 cup olive oil

Zest and juice of one lemon

2 cloves garlic, minced

2 teaspoons red chilies, minced

Salt and pepper

4 chicken breasts

When you're in love, there's no denying the heat you feel for your lady. It's like a flame that won't go out. Sort of like a butane burner that's on all day. Geez, if someone would invent one of those...

No. We're talking about a good woman here. She's the heat in your heart, so serve her this chicken and she'll feel the warmth, too. Combine the oil, lemon rind, juice, garlic and chilies in a large, shallow dish. Add salt and pepper to taste, depending on how much more spice you want. Heat is good. In everything.

Mix well, creating harmony in one place, as you have with your lady. Add the chicken breasts, turning to coat evenly. Cover and marinate in the refrigerator for at least four hours. If you can stand the wait, let it sit overnight. Me, I'm not that patient. When I got something to say, man, I gotta get it out or I'll burst.

Anyway, when it's done marinating, broil or grill the chicken until cooked thoroughly. Ignore the flames of the stove. You're thinking about the love of your life here so it's important you keep your mind on her, not the way the fire kind of licks up at the pan, reaching for—

Damn. That was close. Serve the chicken with a diamond ring and a bended knee proposal and you'll be sure to keep your love on high heat forever.

Dante came into work Saturday afternoon after a sleepless night spent dreaming too much about a woman who didn't want him. He grabbed up his apron and wrapped it around his waist. He'd concentrate on work. That plan had always worked in the past.

It better damned well work now. Because he didn't have a backup.

"How's it going, Vinny?" he asked.

"All under control, Boss." His sous chef grinned and went back to slicing red peppers, laying them in a roasting pan for broiling.

"Are
you
staying on track?" Dante asked as he crossed into the walk-in refrigerator and pulled out a sheet of chicken breasts to marinate.

"I got my mother on my back again, but I'm okay." He shrugged. "She thinks I should marry Theresa."

"Well, do you love her?"

Vinny finished the peppers and then drizzled them with olive oil. "I had a kid with her. So, yeah."

The entire kitchen staff was buzzing with pre-dinner chores, so Dante whisked the marinade together, then coated the breasts himself, flipping them and moving on without losing a second of time. He liked doing the cooking himself, rather than delegating.

The management part of running the restaurant had never been his favorite part of the job. Too much worrying about juggling the balls of employee morale, benefits, marketing and business development. He'd much rather be getting his hands into the anchovies and artichokes. "You either love a woman or you don't, Vin."

Now done with the peppers, Vinny grabbed a stack of garlic cloves. He slammed the side of a butcher knife against the pile, then peeled them like a mother undressing quadruplets for a bath. "I better. I got her pregnant again."

"Theresa's having another baby?"

Vinny stopped peeling to beam an expectant father smile across the stainless steel kitchen. "By Christmas. Told her not to put anything under the tree but my son."

"You know it's a boy?"

Vinny nodded. "I got intuition."

Dante finished the chicken breasts off with an extra dusting of dried red chilies, then returned them to the cooler. He didn't comment on Vinny's psychic abilities. "How's Theresa feel about getting married?"

"She hung a wedding gown on my side of the closet. First thing I see whenever I get out a pair of shoes."

"I’d say she's in favor of the idea." He sprayed disinfectant over the prep area and cleaned it. "What are you going to do?"