Catering to the Italian Playboy

by Tamelia Tumlin

  “But Alex–?”

  “We can see him just fine from here and I can get to him in two seconds flat if necessary. He’ll be okay. Just wait here for a few minutes. Give the camera guy time to get lost. I don’t think he saw us slip behind here.”

  Hesitation warred in her eyes before she finally nodded and leaned back against him. He could feel the warmth from her back against his chest. Soft feminine curves pressed against his chest and caused his pulse to gallop. Damn, she felt good in his arms. Then she shifted and turned toward him. “Did he photograph us?”

  “Probably, but if we’re lucky he didn’t get a good shot.”

  “And Alex?”

  Max’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know. I hope not.”

  “Oh God! We’re going to be splashed across all the tabloids, aren’t we?” Her voice sagged. “They’ll make up all sorts of sordid stories to go along with them too. Horrible lies.” She shuddered in his arms.

  “It’s a possibility.” Max chose his words carefully so as not to alarm her further. If the truth be known, the press would probably have a field day with this, unless he could find a way to control the damage. “I’m used to it. It’ll blow over in a few days and no one will remember.”

  “Well, I’m not used to it!” Sophie retorted hotly. “I don’t want my life or my son’s life exploited for a few measly bucks.”

  “Our son,” Max reminded her evenly. “And nobody wants their personal life exposed for the world to see. Not even me.”

  Tears sprang to Sophie’s eyes. “How do you live like this? Always having to be on guard for the next flash of a camera? I couldn’t stand it. It’s like living under a microscope.”

  Max expelled a breath. “You learn to ignore it for the most part. Ninety-five percent of what they report is pure fiction and anyone with a half a brain can see that.”

  Sophie’s gaze shifted to where Alex was clapping at the seals’ latest antics. “I don’t want him to grow up like this. I want him to be happy and carefree, not stalked by the press every second of his life. That’s no way for a child to grow up.”

  Guilt slammed into Max. He hadn’t thought about it that way. Making himself a part of his son’s life would make the child vulnerable to the press and an easy target. Was that really fair to Alex?

  Or was he just being selfish?

  Sophie blinked back a tear. “Why exactly is the press so fascinated with you?”

  Max winced inwardly. He wasn’t an arrogant man – at least not much – but Sophie had a way putting him in his place without even trying. Lucky for him he was thick-skinned, otherwise the feisty redhead just might trample all over his ego. “I suppose it’s because I dug myself out of the trenches of poverty and built my hotel empire on my own. The old rags-to-riches story seems to spark an interest among the media.” He flashed a smile. “I guess money talks.”

  “Well, I wish it would speak a little softer,” Sophie snapped, then instantly became contrite. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not your fault the press hounds you like white on rice. And I’m sure this can’t be pleasant for you either. I just didn’t want Alex exposed to … to all of this.”

  Max flattened his chin. “I’m afraid it’s a package deal. Wealth and success come with a steep price.”

  “I know,” Sophie let out a resigned sigh. “I just want to keep Alex out of the limelight as much as possible.”

  “I would never do anything to deliberately jeopardize his well-being.”

  “I’m sure you wouldn’t.” Sophie knitted her brow and placed her hand on the concrete tail feathers. “I was just thinking if you weren’t so eligible then maybe the buzzards wouldn’t be swarming all the time.”

  Max’s blood chilled. “What do you mean?”

  “We’ll, it’s simple really. If you were married then I’m sure the media wouldn’t be nearly as fascinated with your day-to-day activities and fawning over your every move.” Sophie nodded thoughtfully.

  Max stiffened. Not in this lifetime, sugar. “I’m flattered, but that’s not an option. I don’t do marriage.” He jutted out his chin.

  Sophie reddened. “Oh! I didn’t mean I wanted to … I mean I was just saying if…” Her voice cracked and a spark of indignation flared in her green eyes. “Great Pete! I wasn’t making an offer! I just meant if you weren’t one of the most eligible bachelors on the planet, the press wouldn’t be so infatuated with you, and our son wouldn’t have to be exploited for the next big buck.” Max flinched. Did she have to sound so accusing? He felt like a heel as it was and it wasn’t like he wanted a damn henchman on his tail every time he turned around either, but that’s how things worked in his circles. He’d learned to deal with it. He did understand her anxiety, but he sure as hell wasn’t getting married to get the press off his back. “I’m afraid they’ll have to stay infatuated. I don’t believe in marriage and I have no intention of tying the knot. Ever.”

  Max’s chest tightened. He wasn’t any good at long-term relationships, and marriage was about as long-term as you could get. Damn. He’d be lucky if he fumbled his way through this fatherhood thing without sending the child into therapy for life. No way was he going to try to tackle marriage too. He had to draw the line somewhere.

  ** SIX **

  Sophie chopped the carrots with venom. How dare he suggest she had proposed marriage? To him of all people!

  Playboy Putz of the Millennium.

  As if.

  Did he really think she wanted to marry a man who’d had more women in his lifetime than Alex had had diapers?

  Hmmph! Not on your life, buster. Sophie chopped harder. The sound of metal hitting the cutting board rivaled the beat of a dysfunctional rock band.

  “Who’s winning?”

  Sophie stopped chopping, knife in hand, and looked up blankly. “What?”

  “The war you’ve waged with that salad.” Felicity nodded toward the sliced and diced vegetables piled in front of Sophie. “You seem to be on a seek-and-destroy mission. I just wanted to know who was winning?”

  “Not me apparently,” Sophie muttered, raking the vegetables into the large salad bowl.

  “Does your sudden enlistment in the vegetable army have something to do with a certain tall, dark and scrumptious Italian whose party we’re catering tonight?” Felicity arched a knowing brow as she sprinkled cheese on top of the green bean casserole.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, it could have something to do with the new meaning you’ve put on finely chopped vegetables,” Felicity said dryly. “It’s a salad, Soph. Not puree.”

  “I’m sure there will be a bunch of old codgers with false teeth at the party tonight. I want to make sure they can chew the salad. They need their fiber you know.” Her defense didn’t hold much water, but Sophie raised her chin a notch anyway then ripped off a piece of saran wrap and covered the salad bowl. She crossed the room and placed it in the fridge.

  “Ri-ight!” Felicity snickered as she slid a casserole into the oversized oven. “So what really gives? You’ve had a bee in your bonnet all week. What did McSexy do this time?”

  Sophie expelled a sigh. “Nothing really. Actually, he’s been pretty great. He’s come by to see Alex three times this week.”

  “Does Alex know Max is his father yet?” Felicity pulled off her oven mitt and plopped onto a stool at the counter.

  “No. We’re giving him some time to get used to Max first.”

  “So what’s the problem?”

  What was the problem indeed? Sophie didn’t know exactly. She wasn’t entirely sure if she was outraged because he thought she had been proposing or if it had more to do with the fact he’d turned her non-existent proposal down flat.

  “I don’t suppose there is one.” Sophie bit her lip.

  “Tell that to the carrot’s family.” Felicity nodded toward the limp remains of carrot skins and pureed bell peppers on the counter in front of Sophie.

  Sophie’s lips twitched. “I suppose I was a little rough
with the vegetables.”

  “I’ll say.” Felicity returned her grin. “Looks to me like you’ve got it bad, girlfriend.”

  “Got what bad?”

  “Whatever it is you’ve got for McSexy.”

  Sophie’s eyes widened. “I don’t have anything for Mc– for Max. He’s Alex’s father, that’s all.”

  “If you say so.” Felicity’s brown eyes softened. “But the longer you deny it the harder it’s going to be. You may as well just admit it. You’ve got the hots for the hunky Italian stud and it may even be worse than that. I think you’re falling for him.”

  Falling for him?

  Max?

  The idea was preposterous. He was just Alex’s biological father. That’s all. She wasn’t actually falling for him.

  Was she?

  Felicity slid off the stool. “What is it you’re always saying? Time to deal with it?”

  “Roll with it,” Sophie murmured. Oh, God! She couldn’t be falling for Max. He was just like her father. He had disappointment and heartbreak written all over him. Sophie shuddered. He’d ruin her life like her father had ruined her mother’s. He was a playboy for Pete’s sake. She couldn’t be falling for him. She just couldn’t. Sophie clenched her fist so hard her short French-tipped nails dug into her palm.

  Besides he’d made it perfectly clear he didn’t do long-term relationships and marriage was not in his vocabulary. Felicity was wrong. She wasn’t falling for Max.

  She would have to be three degrees past stupid to do such a thing.

  “That’s the saying.” Felicity snapped her fingers. “We’ll Soph, I hate to be the one to tell you, but it’s time for you to roll with it.” Felicity’s grin widened. “And I’d start by getting horizontal with McSexy PDQ.”

  * * *

  The Venetian room was exactly as Sophie had imagined. Elegant and sophisticated with a touch of Italian flair. Large cut-crystal chandeliers hanging from the vaulted ceiling softly lit the charming spacious room. Intimate alcoves invited cozy romantic interludes while the dining area offered large gathering appeal. Old World accents adorned exquisite bone-ivory walls and blended brilliantly with the muted wine and gold tones. Situated along the back wall was a small-scale octagonal water fountain with a bronze statue of Neptune standing proudly on a pedestal in the center of the small reflecting pool.

  Sophie ran her hand along the hard sleek marble fountain. The sound of trickling water echoed through the room, and this time the sound settled over her like a soothing blanket.

  Kind of gives new meaning to spare no expense. She wondered how much this little gem set Max back.

  Like her father, Max didn’t seem to mind flaunting his wealth. The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. Her father had always used money to impress. Usually to impress a woman.

  “I see you found the right room this time.” Her skin prickled at the velvet, thickly accented voice behind her.

  Sophie turned to find Max in the doorway watching her with amusement.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” she murmured. “It’s beautiful.” So was he in his obviously custom-made Italian suit, white dress shirt and black tie. Sophie swallowed hard and hoped she wasn’t gaping.

  “I’m glad you like it. I had the room designed after my favorite restaurant in Venice and the Fontana di Nettuno in Bologna. Two of my favorite places in the world. In the Old Country the food is superb, the atmosphere is unbelievable and the hospitality is like none you’ve ever seen before.” Two winged brows arched questioningly. “Have you ever been to Italy?”

  Sophie shook her head as he crossed the room to join her in front of the fountain. “Sadly, I must admit I’ve never been out of the United States. New York is as close to my big adventure as I could get.” She didn’t bother to add she came here six years ago from Los Angeles hoping to blend in with the million plus people inhabiting the Big Apple so her father would never find her. She’d even managed – with the help of a friend who’d used his FBI credentials – to change her social security number so she wouldn’t be traced.

  “Pity. European countries are most hospitable and rich in fascinating history. Take for example Neptune.” He reached over her shoulder and pointed to bronze statue holding a trident. “He is master of the sea controlling all elements of water. Neptune has power over all other water gods. He guides ships, causes waves and can even create an earthquake.”

  “Sounds like a powerful man – or god rather. I just hope he doesn’t want to create any earthquakes anytime soon.” Good Lord, did he have to stand so close. His warm breath fanned her temple and a quiver tickled her stomach.

  “He’s powerful now, but his childhood was very traumatic.” A shadow passed across Max’s face and his chin tightened. “In Greek mythology Neptune’s father, Cronus, feared he would be overthrown by one of his children so he imprisoned all of his offspring in Tartarus, the Olympian underworld. Only Zeus and Neptune escaped their fate when their mother, Rhea, secretly hid them in other parts of the world. Particularly what is now Greece. They were raised by other Greek gods and later freed their imprisoned siblings. Then, after a decade long war, they defeated Cronus and the other Titans.”

  “That’s amazing! You sure know your mythology,” Sophie enthused. She’d never cared much for history herself, but listening to Max talk about Greek lore with such fervor and excitement, she almost wished she’d paid more attention to her teachers in school. She’d been more interested in sports. Especially softball.

  Max shrugged. “I’ve always enjoyed history and I took several mythology courses in college as electives. I find it fascinating.”

  Sophie looked at the statue and shook her head. “Makes me feel kinda sorry for Neptune, though. I can’t imagine how any parent could give their child away like that.” Sophie swallowed the lump in her throat. Her own father might not have been there for her growing up, but he’d never thrown her away like an old shoe either.

  “It happens.” Max inhaled sharply. His brows furrowed as a rush of emotions fluttered across his hard features. Then his eyes shuttered. “More often than you think.”

  “At least it ended well for Neptune. He was reunited with his siblings and overcame his traumatic childhood.”

  Max stiffened beside her. “Yes. He’s one of the lucky ones.”

  Sophie frowned. Why did he sound so defensive? It was just a myth, for Pete’s sake.

  Noting her puzzled expression, Max relaxed then offered her a half-smile. “Like I said. I’m a history buff and most European countries have tons of history. Italy has these types of fountains all over and each one has an interesting story behind it. You should go sometime. I think you would enjoy it.”

  “Maybe I’ll try to visit one day,” Sophie said thoughtfully, then shot him a cheeky grin. “When I get back to catering for actual money that is and can save up.”

  He chuckled. “I’m sure after tonight that won’t be a problem. There will be plenty of important clients here and most all of them host parties at one time or another. They’ll be beating your door down for your business.”

  “I hope so.” Sophie’s expression turned serious. “I have to make A Touch of Spice a success. I can’t fail. Not with this.”

  “You really enjoy what you do, don’t you?” Max studied her with hooded eyes. “That’s important in the success of any business.”

  “I love cooking and catering, of course, but it’s more than that.” Sophie bit back a wave of sadness. “Catering was my mom’s dream. It’s the one thing she always wanted to do but never had the guts to try. I want to do this for her.”

  “Why didn’t she?”

  Sophie sucked in a razored breath. “My father wouldn’t let her. He thought she was better suited hosting his many shindigs instead of having a life of her own.” Her voice hardened. “He owns Westbrook Advertising so the entertainment industry is a big part of his life. He runs in the same circles as the Hollywood elite.”

  “You don’t sound pleased.”
>
  Sophie shifted her weight to her left foot. “He wasn’t exactly what you’d call a family man. He spent all of his time chasing the almighty dollar and never had time for me or my mother.” And chasing every skirt he laid eyes on.

  “What about now? Do you still see him?”

  “I haven’t spoken to him since my mother’s funeral and I don’t intend to. He didn’t want us then and I don’t need him now.”

  A muscle in Max’s chin twitched. “What about Alex? Shouldn’t he have a chance to know his grandfather?”

  “No.” The word exploded from her lips. She would not let her father destroy Alex’s life too.

  Max started at her sharp answer. “I realize your father isn’t perfect, but he is the only one you have. Maybe it’s time to put this all behind you and try again. For Alex’s sake.”

  Sophie’s heart squeezed. “That’s not possible. Not anymore,” she whispered. I will not betray my mother by forgiving that man.

  “Everyone isn’t lucky enough to have a family, Sophie. I’d hate to see you throw yours away and regret it later on.” The harshness in Max’s voice took her by surprise, making her briefly wonder if he were referring to himself. Especially since he’d never mentioned his own family. “Surely, you can find some way to forgive him.”

  “My father is dead to me,” Sophie told him flatly. “And I’d rather not discuss it anymore. I want to make A Touch of Spice a success in honor of my mother’s memory. I don’t need my father to do that.”

  Max was quiet for a moment and Sophie thought he was going to press her further, then his muscles relaxed. “I’m sorry you feel that way about you father.” His eyes softened. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make your business a success. The least I can do is make sure you make the right connections.”

  Shocked, Sophie jerked her gaze to his. “You’d do that?”

  “Of course. You’re raising my son. I want you to be successful.” He pushed a stray tendril from her eyes, his fingers brushing against her cheek ever so softly. Sophie’s heart fluttered against her ribs. “I can see how hard you’ve worked and how important this is to you. Besides,” a smile played at the corners of his mouth, “anyone who’d pop out of a cake in a G-string deserves a break.”