Catering to the Italian Playboy

by Tamelia Tumlin

  “Wow!” Sophie turned in his arm to give him a cheeky grin. “That was amazing!”

  Max chuckled and kissed the top of her head. He breathed in her fragrance, lavender and vanilla mixed with something a little more womanly and a lot more enticing. “You were amazing.” His dark brows shot up. “I could go another round or two. What about you? Do you think you can keep up?”

  Her laugh sprinkled the air. She rolled over to straddle him, pinning his hands above his head to the bed. “Whip out the glove and just try and stop me.” She leaned down, her breasts lightly brushing against the hard wall of his chest and caught his lower lip between her teeth. She ran her tongue over the edge and suckled before slipping her tongue inside his mouth. Max pulled a ragged breath then devoured the sweetness of her lips. Somehow, he knew he wouldn’t even be satisfied with the entrée. He might need the whole damn menu because it looked like it was going to take a lot longer than he thought to get her out of his system.

  A whole lot longer.

  * * *

  Two hours and a few more condoms later Sophie listened to Max’s steady breathing beside her. His soft breaths accompanied by an occasional light snore seemed to echo through the room. She gently lifted his arm from her waist and eased out of bed, careful not to wake him. Another sense of deja vu settled over her as she scrambled for her clothes. Six years ago she’d stolen away in the middle of the night after their lovemaking too. A little flutter of guilt tickled her stomach. She should at least tell him she was leaving.

  Moonlight filtered through the window and pooled in a circle on the carpet near her panties. She reached for them and searched for the rest of her garments in the semi-dark room. Within seconds she’d located everything and quickly dressed.

  Since her shirt was missing several buttons thanks to Max’s impatience, she buttoned the top three and tied a make-shift knot under her breast with the rest of the shirt leaving her stomach exposed like a belly dancer.

  It’s better than nothing, she told herself. She couldn’t very well walk through the hotel in her bra and slacks.

  Sophie tip-toed across the room to the door.

  “Where are you going?” The deep timbered voice startled her. Sophie froze in mid-step. The bed creaked as Max raised up on one elbow. Even in the moonlight, she could see his brows draw together in a formidable scowl.

  “I … uh, have to go.” Sophie licked her lips.

  “Running away again?” His soft taunt challenged, daring her to deny it.

  “Of course not.” Sophie gulped. Or was she? A little part of her didn’t want to face him in the morning. Didn’t want to hear him say ‘So long, it’s been fun. See you around’. She wasn’t ready for him to say it was over. Whatever it was.

  But, that didn’t mean she was running away again.

  Did it?

  “Looks that way to me.”

  “I have to get home. My babysitter will be wondering where I am.”

  “I thought you told her you’d be late.”

  “I told her I’d be back around midnight. It’s a little past already.” True enough. She did tell Mrs. Lewis, who was keeping Alex in her own apartment two doors down from Sophie’s, she’d be back late. Since neither of them wanted to disturb a sleeping child at such an hour, though, they’d also agreed Sophie could pick him up in the morning.

  So why was she sprinting for the door like a marathon runner at the finish line?

  “Liar,” he said softly. “Come back to bed. I’ll make it worth your while.” His silken, suggestive tone sent a shiver of awareness down her spine.

  “I–I can’t. Alex might wake up and wonder where I am.” Sophie reached for the door handle and hoped he couldn’t see her hand shaking.

  “Fine. Have it your way.” Max expelled a sigh, sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The springs creaked beneath his weight. “I’ll get dressed.” He reached for his boxers and stood.

  Good Lord. Sophie swallowed hard. Moonlight bathed his muscular body in a sheen of glistening yellow light, his rigid need for her evident in the pale beam. Sophie bit back a wave of disappointment as he slid into boxers then his trousers and reached for his shirt.

  “Why are you getting dressed?”

  “To see you safely home.” He grabbed his keys from the nightstand.

  “I’m a big girl, Max. I can see myself home.”

  “No. It’s too late for you to be out on your own in the city.” He tucked his shirt in his trousers.

  “I have my car here at the hotel.”

  “Then I’ll follow you.” He crossed the room and fumbled through a small desk drawer.

  “This is ridiculous.” She sighed with exasperation. “I’ll be fine. I’ve lived in New York for over six years. I know how to be careful.”

  “I said I will follow you.” This time his commanding tone left no room for argument. He pulled his checkbook from his desk drawer and began to scribble.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m writing you a check.” He ripped the paper from the pad and held it out to her.

  Sophie froze. He was what? Bile churned in her stomach. What was the check for? Was he paying her for tonight? Oh, God. Did he think she was a prostitute or something?

  A wave of dizziness slammed into her. Surely, he didn’t think…

  “What’s wrong?” Concern laced his voice. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

  “Wh–what is the check for?”

  “I told you. It’s for you.” A frown perched between his brows when she swayed. “Maybe you should sit. You don’t look too well.” He steadied her with his hand.

  Sophie backed against the door, her knees quivering. Another wave of nausea rushed to her throat. She wrenched her arm free from his hand. Oh, God! He thought – “I don’t want it. You’re not going to pay me for … for this.”

  “Pay you?”

  “For sex.” Her voice cracked and she hugged her arms tight. She would not let him make her feel cheap.

  Max stiffened, his tone dangerously quiet. “I assure you I have never had to pay anyone for sex and I don’t intend to start now. This is your first child support check for Alex. We haven’t discussed a sum, but I believe I have been fair.” He set his jaw and placed the check in the palm of her hand. “If this is not suitable, we can discuss it at a later date.”

  Her hand shook so hard the check fluttered to the floor.

  A curse fell from Max’s lips. He reached down to pick it up. “I said take it.” He shoved it toward her, eyes glittering dangerously.

  Sophie gasped at the amount. He had been more than generous, but she didn’t want his money. She didn’t want anything from him other than a father for her son. If he could handle the job. She lifted her chin, her lips tight. “I don’t want your money.”

  A muscle twitched in Max’s square jaw. “Don’t be a little fool . My son will not do without because you are too proud to accept my help. I intend to make sure he has everything he needs.”

  Hot, biting tears pricked behind her eyelids. She blinked them away. How dare him! “I’ve taken care of Alex for the last five years. He hasn’t done without anything.” Her voice choked on a sob. She’d done the best she could for her son and though she knew he didn’t have everything he wanted, he did have everything he needed. “I’ve been a good mom to him.”

  Max swore softly and shoved a hand through his hair. “I’m not criticizing you, Sophie. I just want to make sure he is well taken care of.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he put a finger to her lips. “You’ve done a great job with him. I can see that. But I’m his father and I’m in a position to make sure you both have everything you need. You can accept my offer or we can hash it out in court. Either way my son will be well taken care of. I won’t shirk my responsibilities. Now, is the amount suitable?”

  Sophie’s shoulders slumped, but she nodded. “More than suitable. It’s too much.”

  Her fingernails dug into her palms. She didn’t want hi
s money, for Pete’s sake. She didn’t want to feel obligated to him in anyway. No matter what the reason. This was why she’d left L.A. in the first place. To get as far away from money, power and control as she could.

  Still he was Alex’s father and he did have a say in her – their – son’s well-being. She supposed she should be thankful he was willing to step up to the plate. But she wasn’t.

  “Nonsense.” Max shook his head. “Use what you need each month. Put anything that’s left into a savings account for when he’s older. I don’t want either of you to be strapped for cash.”

  Did she really have a choice? If she refused, he’d take her to court and there was a very good chance she might lose Alex. Her stomach lurched to her throat. She couldn’t risk it until she had the money to fight for her son. She didn’t like it, but she knew she had to give in.

  This time.

  Just like my mother always gave in to my father.

  Was this how her mother had felt? Powerless against her father’s unlimited arm of power?

  A lone tear threatened the corner of her eye. She blinked it back before Max could see.

  She would not fall into the same defenseless trap her mother had been in. No matter what.

  Max ran his thumb down the hollow of her cheek. “If you’re through imagining the worst about me, I’ll see you safely home.” A devilish grin turned up the corners of his mouth. “Unless you’d rather come back to bed.” Sophie shook her head, but did manage a half-smile. Or a half-grimace depending on whether one viewed the glass half full or half empty. Right now hers was half empty. “I’d better get home to Alex.”

  A spark of disappointment flared in his eyes then he nodded. “Let’s go.”

  ** NINE **

  “Did you see this week’s paper?” The bell jingled against the glass door as Felicity strolled into A Touch of Spice the following Monday morning.

  Sophie, bent over the island counter, kept her eye trained on sides of the three-tiered white wedding cake gracing it and squeezed red icing through a tube to carefully form each miniature rose petal around the edge of the bottom layer. Achieving the desired design required uninterrupted concentration so she didn’t look up to see Felicity’s expression, but by her friend’s subdued tone, she knew it couldn’t be good. “No. Why?”

  “Let’s just say you’ve earned your fifteen minutes of fame,” came the dry response. “Here. See for yourself.” She tossed the paper onto the cerulean-tiled counter beside the cake and plopped onto the bar stool across from Sophie.

  Sophie finished the rose, set the icing tube down and wiped her hands on a dishrag before picking up the paper. “Oh, crap.”

  The headline glared back at her with bold black letters: Local Entrepreneur Caters to Playboy Tycoon’s Latest Whim.

  Sophie’s chest tightened as her eyes drank in the accompanying picture. Max held Alex in one arm while his other one was casually draped across her shoulders. All three of them were relaxed and smiling.

  Like a family.

  Her insides looped and the picture brought a lump to her throat.

  A family.

  Something they would never be.

  Sophie shoved the lump back down. A picture may be worth a thousand words, but this one was way off the mark. Max was not the type of man she wanted or needed to morph into her golden years with and he’d made it perfectly clear marriage wasn’t on his agenda either.

  So why did looking at the picture make her feel like a piece of her life was missing?

  “You okay?” The concern lacing Felicity’s tone snapped Sophie back to the real problem at hand. The media.

  Sophie nodded as she traced the picture with her index finger. “The zoo. This was taken the day we met Max at the zoo.” She clenched her fist to keep from slinging the paper across the room and forced herself to read the rest of the article. Frustration churned in her stomach as the condemning words blurred before her eyes. The author not only had the audacity to hint at an inappropriate fling but demeaned her services as a caterer while insinuating she was Max’s latest passing fancy, even going so far as to call her “the flavor of the month.”

  “Ugh!” Sophie flung the newspaper back on the counter toward Felicity. “How could they?”

  “They even managed to dig into your past and find out your family history.” Felicity cleared her throat then began to read. “Sophia Eleanor Westbrook, proprietor of A Touch of Spice Catering in New York and daughter of the infamous advertising guru, Miles Joseph Westbrook, seems to be adding a little spice to her own life–”

  “Stop!” Sophie squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t want to hear any more.” Just the sound of her father’s name put her nerves on edge. Not to mention the way her name and business was smeared through the tabloid.

  “Not exactly the kind of publicity you wanted for A Touch of Spice, huh?” Felicity arched a brow sympathetically.

  “No it’s not. But what really gets my goat is the fact the reporter had the nerve to smear Alex in the article. He’s just little kid. They didn’t mention him by name of course, but still the article is hateful.”

  “Smut sells, Soph. You know that as well as I do. Nobody wants to read about a person’s good fortune. They’d rather read a juicy scandal any day. Just be thankful they didn’t get any pictures of you and McSexy getting horizontal.”

  Sophie hissed a gasp and jerked her eyes to her friend. “What makes you think we did any such thing?”

  “Well, I’m just taking a stab in the dark here, but considering the four-alarm fire now burning a hole your cheeks I’d say I’m spot on.” Felicity laughed as another wave of heat climbed Sophie’s face. “So how was it?”

  How was it? Incredible. Unbelievable. Too spectacular for words. These were the first thoughts tumbling through her mind, but she would rather lie and tell Felicity nothing had happened than admit it. Sophie swallowed a sigh. What was the point? Her assistant knew her too well. She’d just drag it out of her eventually anyway. May as well come clean now.

  Sophie propped her hip against the counter and sucked in a ragged breath. “It was wonderful.”

  “Just wonderful?”

  “Okay, it was out-of-this-world fantastic.”

  “I knew it!” Felicity squealed with delight, slapping the counter with the palm of her hand. “McSexy is the just the type of man who can curl a woman’s toes.” Then her lips twitched. “Did he curl yours, boss?”

  Sophie grabbed the dishrag and furiously scrubbed the counter. “Among other things.”

  “Get out of town!” Felicity’s infectious laugh peppered the air. “It’s about time you had a little fun for a change. You’ve been so wrapped up in raising Alex and making a go of this business, I worried you had forgotten how to let loose and just have fun.”

  “I have fun,” Sophie muttered, grinding the dishrag into the grout.

  “Puh-lease!” Felicity expelled an exaggerated sigh. “Building Lego cities and reading bedtime stories is not the kind of fun I’m talking about.” Before Sophie could work up a proper indignant expression, Felicity added hastily, “Don’t get me wrong, Soph. Alex is a sweetheart and I love him dearly – he’s my godson for crying out loud – but just because you’re a single mom doesn’t mean you’re dead. It’s high time you got back out there.”

  Out there.

  The two words curdled her stomach. Sophie knew what she meant, of course. The dreaded dating pool. Still, Felicity was right. She probably should get back out there. It had been a long time and, as her friend had put it, she wasn’t dead.

  Sophie shuddered inwardly. She didn’t relish the idea of jumping back into those shark-infested waters, but it was probably time to at least put her big toe in and give it a whirl. Ease herself back into it. Goosebumps sprinkled her arms. Unfortunately, sleeping with Max hadn’t exactly been easing herself back into it. It had been like jumping head first into the deep end without a life preserver.

  “Have you seen him since the party?”

 
; “No. He phoned Saturday morning and said he’d be out of town for a few days. Business or something.” Tentacles of doubt wrapped around her stomach. What kind of business did one do on the weekend? The tentacles squeezed for good measure. She knew what kind. The same kind of business her father had on the weekends. Female business.

  “So, when are you seeing him again?”

  “I’m not. At least not in the biblical sense.”

  Felicity’s jaw dropped. “Why on earth not? You just said it was out of this world.”

  Sophie blew a sigh between her lips and scrubbed the imaginary grime on the counter a little harder. “It’s complicated.”

  How could she explain it? It wasn’t like she hadn’t known what she was getting into. Max had made it clear their little tryst was just temporary. And she’d accepted that. Or so she thought. But, now … now she wasn’t so sure.

  “What’s complicated about it? You’re a woman. He’s a man. You’re both adults. Sounds like a delicious combination to me.” Felicity rested her elbows on the counter and cast a speculative look at Sophie. “What’s the problem?”

  “Alex.” Sophie’s hand stilled on the dishrag as she chanced a look at Felicity. Unfortunately, her friend didn’t seem the least bit convinced. She tried again. “I can’t risk it. When this thing – whatever it is – ends, Alex could be the one who’s hurt.” She tossed the dishrag to the edge of counter and sank onto the stool across from her assistant. “I can’t let that happen. Max will be a part of Alex’s life of course, but anything more than that could be disastrous.”

  “And McSexy is okay with this?”

  Sophie shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll be fine with it. He made it crystal clear he doesn’t want a relationship either. Not that it matters,” she added hastily. “Max is too much like my father for me to even consider such a thing. Besides, look what damage the media has already created.” She nodded toward the paper. “I can’t subject Alex to this … this kind of slander. I can just imagine what the heartless buzzards would print if they found out Max and I were sleeping together. Their insinuations are bad enough as it is.” And the sooner she explained her reservations to Max the better. Chances are he just wanted the one night too. Actually, he was probably already moved on to the next willing body. Why else would he have left town for the weekend?