The Playboy of Rome (11 page)

“I thought I’d put together dinner.”

He walked closer. “And what’s on the menu?”

She ran over and pressed a hand to his chest to stop him. The warmth from his body and the rhythm of his heart sent tingles shooting up her arm. Big mistake. But her heart wasn’t listening to her head. A bolt of awareness struck her and all she could think about was stepping a little closer. The breath caught in her throat as she looked up at his tempting lips.

Memories of his caresses dominated her thoughts. She’d never been kissed like that before. It had meaning. It had depth. And it had left her longing for more. But this wasn’t the time or the place. She had to make a point with him. And caving in to her desires would not help her cause.

She pulled her hand back. “I have a table all set in the dining room. Why don’t you go make yourself comfortable? The food will be in shortly.”

He strained his neck, looking around. “Are you sure I shouldn’t stay and help?”

She pressed her hands to her hips. “I’m positive. Go.”

He hesitated and she started to wonder if he was going to trust her. But then he relented. And turned. When he exited the kitchen, she rushed to finish up with the things on the stove. She placed them in the oven to keep them warm.

At last, it was time to start serving up the most important meal of her life. Since when had impressing Dante become more about what he thought of her and less about gaining the job? She consoled herself with the thought that it was just nerves. It wasn’t as if he was the first man to kiss her. Nor would he be the last.

She pushed aside the jumbled thoughts as she moved to the refrigerator and removed the crab-and-avocado salad. She placed the dish on the tray, took off her apron and smoothed a hand over her hair, worrying that she must look a mess. Oh, well, it was too late to worry about it now.

Then, realizing that she’d forgotten something for him to drink, she grabbed both a glass of chilled water and a bottle of DeFiore white wine she’d picked out to complement the meal.

She carried the tray into the dining room and came to a stop when she noticed the lights had been dimmed and candles had been added to the table as well as some fresh greens and dahlias with hearty yellow centers and deep pink tips. The breath caught in her throat.

The table was perfect. It looked as though it was ready for a romantic interlude. And then her gaze came to rest on Dante. He’d changed clothes. What? But why?

She glanced down at the same clothes she’d worn all day that were now smudged with flour and sauce. She resisted the urge to race out of the room to grab a shower and to change into something that would make her feel sexy and alluring.

She turned her attention to Dante, taking in his creased black slacks, a matching jacket and a gray button-up shirt. Wow. With his tanned features and his dark hair, he looked like a Hollywood star. She swallowed hard. She wondered if he’d remembered to put on a touch of cologne, too. The thought of moving close enough to check was oh, so tempting.

She gave herself a mental jerk. She wasn’t here for a date. This was business. She couldn’t blow her chance to show him that she was quite competent in the kitchen. She would impress him this evening, but it would be through her culinary prowess and not through flirting or any of the other tempting thoughts that came readily to mind.

“If you’ll have a seat, I’ll serve you.” She tried to act as though her heart wasn’t thumping against her ribs.

He frowned. “But I want to get your chair for you.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Aren’t you joining me?”

She shook her head.

“But you’ve got to be hungry, too.”

She was but it wasn’t the food she’d slaved over for the past couple of hours that had her salivating. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, come on. You surely don’t think that I’ll enjoy this meal with you rushing around waiting on me. Now sit.”

What was up with him? She eyed him up as she sat in the chair he’d pulled out for her. Was he having a change of heart about teaching her what he knew—in the kitchen, that was?

“I only brought out enough food for one.”

“Not a problem.” Before she could utter a word, he moved to the kitchen.

This wasn’t right. This was not how she’d planned to prove to Dante that she was up to the task of working in Ristorante Massimo. Frustration collided with the girlie part of her that was thrilled to be pampered. It was a totally new experience for her. But it also left her feeling off-kilter. Was she supposed to read something into his actions? The clothes? The flowers and candles? Did any of it have anything to do with their kiss?

When he returned, she gazed at him in the glow of the candle. The words caught in her throat as she realized this was her first candlelit dinner. Romance had never been part of her other relationships. She could definitely get used to this and to Dante—

No. No. She couldn’t get distracted again. This was not a date. It was business. So why was Dante acting so strange? So kind and thoughtful?

“Is there something I should know?” she asked, bracing herself for bad news.

A dark brow arched. “Know about what?”

She didn’t want to put words in his mouth, especially if they were not what she wanted to hear. “I don’t know. I just wondered about your effort to be so nice.”

He frowned. “So now you think that I’m not nice.”

She groaned. “That isn’t what I meant. You’re taking my words out of context.”

“I am?” He placed a plate and glass in front of her. “Perhaps we should talk about something else, then.”

“No. I want to know why you’re in such a good mood. Have you made up your mind about the television show?”

Please let him say that he had a change of heart.

His gaze lowered to the table as he took his seat. “Are you sure you know what you’re asking?”

“Of course I do. All you have to do is fill in for your grandfather. And teach me everything you know.” Did this mean he was truly considering the idea? Were her dreams about to come true?

“You really want to learn from me?”

She nodded.

The silence dragged on. Her stomach knotted and her palms grew damp. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“Well?” She couldn’t bear the unknown any longer. “Where does that leave us?”

“It leaves us with a meal that’s going to get cold if we don’t get through this first course soon.”

“But I need to know.”

“And you will. Soon.”

Was that a promise? It sounded like one. But what was soon in his book? She glanced down at her salad. How in the world was she supposed to eat now?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

H
E
MUST
HAVE
lost his mind.

That had to be it. Otherwise why would he even consider going along with this arrangement?

Dante stared across the candlelit table at Lizzie. He noticed how she’d moved the food around on her plate, but she’d barely eaten a bite. She had to be hungry because it’d been hours since they’d stopped at the trattoria on their way back to Rome.

And this food was really good. In fact, he had to admit that he was impressed. Maybe taking her under his wing wouldn’t be such a hardship after all. His solicitor definitely thought it was the least painless course of action. Easy for him to say.

But the deciding factor was when the potential buyer of the
ristorante
had been willing to wait the two months. His solicitor said that they’d actually been quite enthusiastic about the
ristorante
getting international coverage.

But what no one took into consideration was the fact that Dante was totally drawn to Lizzie. And that was a serious complication. How in the world were they to work together when all he could think about was kissing her again? He longed to wrap his arms around her and pull her close. He remembered vividly how the morning sun had glowed behind her, giving her whole appearance a golden glow. It had been an experience unlike any other. And when their lips had met—

“Is something wrong with the food?”

Dante blinked before meeting Lizzie’s worried gaze. He had to start thinking of her in professional terms. He supposed that if he were going to take her on as his protégée, he might as well get started. He’d teach her as much as possible within their time limit.

“Now that you’ll be working here, there’ll be no special treatment. You’ll be expected to work just like everyone else.”

“Understood.”

“As for the food, the chicken is a little overcooked. You’ll need to be careful of that going forward.”

A whole host of expressions flitted across her face. “Is there anything else?”

It wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. He thought she’d be ecstatic to learn that she’d be working there. And that she’d get her television spot. Women. He’d never figure them out. In his experience, they never reacted predictably.

“And use less salt. The guest can always add more according to their taste and diet.”

Her face filled with color. Without a word, she threw her linen napkin on the table and rushed to the kitchen.

He groaned. He hadn’t meant to upset her. Still, how was he supposed to teach her anything if he couldn’t provide constructive criticism? His grandfather should be here. He would know what to say and how to say it.

Dante raked his fingers through his hair. He’d agreed to this arrangement far too quickly. He should have gone with his gut that said this was going to be a monumental mistake. Now he had to fix things before the camera crew showed up. The last thing either of them needed was to start their television appearances on a bad note—with all of the world watching.

He strode toward the kitchen and paused by the door. What did he say to her? Did he apologize even though he hadn’t said anything derogatory? Did he set a precedent that she would expect him to apologize every time she got upset when he pointed out something that she could improve on? An exasperated sigh passed his lips. He obviously wasn’t meant to be a teacher.

He pushed the door open, prepared to find Lizzie in tears. Instead he found her scraping leftovers into the garbage and piling the dishes in the sink.

“What are you doing?”

She didn’t face him. “I’m cleaning up. What does it look like?”

“But we weren’t done eating. Why don’t you come back to the table?”

She grabbed the main dish and dumped it in the garbage. “I don’t want anything else.”

“Would you stop?”

“There’s no point in keeping leftovers.” With that, she grabbed the dessert.

He knew where she was headed and stepped in her way. What in the world had gotten into her? Why was she acting this way?

“Lizzie, put down the dessert and tell me what’s bothering you.”

She tilted her chin to gaze up at him. “Why should something be bothering me? You tore to shreds the dinner I painstakingly prepared for you.”

“But isn’t that what you want me to do? Teach you?”

Her icy gaze bored into him. The temperature took an immediate dive. “Move.”

“No. We need to finish talking.”

“So you can continue to insult me. No, thank you.” She moved to go around him but he moved to block her.

“Lizzie, I don’t know what it is you want from me. I thought you wanted me to teach you, but obviously that isn’t the case. So what is it you want? Or do you just want to call this whole thing off?”

“I didn’t know we were starting the lessons right away. Or did you just say those things in hopes of me calling off the arrangement?”

“No, that isn’t what I had in mind.” How the heck had he ended up on the defensive? He’d only meant to be helpful.

“So you truly think I’m terrible in the kitchen?”

He took the tray from her and set it on the counter. Then he stepped up to her, hating the emotional turmoil he saw in her eyes. He found himself longing to soothe her. But he didn’t have a clue how to accomplish such a thing. He seemed to keep making one mistake after the other where she was concerned.

“I think that you’re very talented.” It was the truth. And he’d have said it even if he didn’t find her amazingly attractive.

Her bewildered gaze met his. “But you said—”

“That there were things for you to take into consideration while working here. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

Disbelief shimmered in her eyes.

He didn’t think. He just acted, reaching out to her. His thumb stroked her cheek, enjoying its velvety softness. She stepped away from his touch and his hand lowered to his side.

“Lizzie, you have to believe me. If you’re going to be this sensitive, how do you think we’ll be able to work together?”

* * *

This was all wrong.

Lizzie crossed her arms to keep from reaching out to him. The whole evening had gone off the rails and she had no idea how to fix things. And the worst part was that she’d overreacted. Big-time.

She’d always prided herself on being able to contain her feelings behind a wall of indifference. And Dante wasn’t the first to criticize her skills. But he was the first whose opinion truly mattered to her on a deeply personal level. He was the first person she wanted to thoroughly impress.

The thought brought her up short. Since when had his thoughts and feelings come to mean so much to her? Was it the kiss? Had it changed everything? Or was it opening up to him in the car? Had their heart-to-heart made her vulnerable to him?

Panic clawed at her. She knew what happened when she let people too close and she opened up about her background. She’d been shunned most of her life. She couldn’t let Dante do that to her. She couldn’t stand the thought of him looking at her with pity while thinking that she was less than everyone else—after all, if her own parents couldn’t love her, how was anyone else supposed to?

Not that she wanted Dante to fall in love with her. Did she? No. That was the craziest idea to cross her mind in a long time—probably her craziest idea ever.

The walls started to close in on her. She needed space. Away from Dante. Away from his curious stare. “I need...need to make a phone call. I...I’ll clean this all up later.”