Turning the Tables

by Joan Kilby

  Halfway home he turned into a diner on a side street and sat in a booth at the window. Inside the plastic-coated menu a paper clipped note listed the daily special. Lasagna. Perfect. He was quickly coming to crave all things Italian.

  The waitress came and he gave his order, then he got out his phone. There was a message from Allan asking how the fundraising efforts were coming and one from Roy letting him know he had a spot on Mike & Mike in two days’ time.

  Yet another text from his mother begging him to call her. Telling him she’d been going to Gamblers Anonymous and was clean. Yeah, right. The family had heard that one before, numerous times. Luke hesitated with his finger over the delete button. What if she was telling the truth this time?

  He left it for now and moved on. Timmy had left a voice mail reminding him about their game the day after tomorrow, the last one before the playoffs. As if he’d forget. They needed to win to go into the quarterfinals.

  He punched the button to return Timmy’s call. “Hey, squirt. How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine,” Timmy said in his usual chirpy voice. “Did you get my message?”

  “Yep. Don’t worry, I wouldn’t forget. We’re going to blast the other team out of the water.”

  “My mom bought me a new hockey stick. I’m taping the handle right now.”

  “Awesome. You’d better sharpen the wheels on your chair, too, so you can zoom past the other forward on your way to shoot a goal.”

  Timmy giggled. “You can’t sharpen wheels. They’d pop.”

  “Really? Oh, no, so that’s what went wrong with the last team I coached.” He slapped his forehead. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

  “I won’t. If you promise not to tell anyone about my…” Timmy’s laughter faded.

  The sudden silence was awkward. Luke winced, pretty sure Timmy hadn’t meant to bring up his secret. Only Luke and Stella knew that he had to wear diapers when he played because his spinal injury meant he didn’t have control over his bladder and sometimes he couldn’t get off the ice, into the bathroom and out of his protective clothing in time when he had to piss. The stark reminder of Timmy’s disability only served to reinforce Luke’s determination to keep the foundation going.

  “Hey, don’t sweat it,” he said lightly. “Just be ready to rumble.”

  “Okay, Uncle Luke. See ya.”

  “Bye, Ace.” Luke hung up and reached for the icy lager the waitress had brought a moment ago.

  His thoughts drifted back to Tina. While not everything about her added up, did he want to mess up the most intense fling of his life on the basis of vague suspicions?

  No, he didn’t know her last name or where she lived but did that matter? He knew the taste and scent of her, the soft silk of her skin. He knew how passionate and inventive she was in the bedroom—or fitting room. How quickly she learned what turned him on. How she purely enjoyed the physical act of making love. The way she looked deep into his eyes when she came slayed him. Apart from sex, he knew she was playful, empathetic and generous. Hardworking and smart and family-oriented. In many ways, he did know everything important about her. So what was the problem?

  The problem was, how much “mystery” was he willing to accept? She’d admitted to “champagne tastes” so maybe this innocent act was all a ruse. His mother had been a bullshit artist and a consummate actress. She’d left him with a legacy of distrust. Maybe too distrustful. Tina was a stranger in town, and she didn’t really know him. She could simply be protecting her privacy and that was smart.

  Now he had to be smart and not fall for her. He had to remember this was a fling and not be seduced by hope that this time the future would somehow turn out differently than expected based on experience. He could do that. Hell, he’d been doing it his whole life.

  Speaking of… He went back to his phone messages and found the one from his mom. His finger hovered over the button. Smart, remember? He hit delete.

  …

  In her hotel suite bathroom, Tina stripped off her clothes and gratefully stepped into a steaming shower. She was a little tender in intimate places but wonderfully invigorated. Her soapy hands retraced Luke’s caresses, and she smiled to herself. In a very long and tiring day, he’d been the brightest moment. He was so masterful and knew exactly how to please her. For a glorious hour or so she’d forgotten…everything. She’d been just a woman, very thoroughly satisfied by her man.

  Then her smile faded. Luke had been angry and suspicious when they parted. He didn’t deserve to be lied to. God knew, she wanted to tell him the truth. How wonderful would it be to be completely honest and to know with certainty that he wanted her for herself and not for what she could do for him?

  Normal people exchanged personal details as a matter of course. She should tell him everything, she really should. He’d said he didn’t care who she was or what she did. Maybe she could trust him. Maybe he really did only want her for who she was inside. The thought made her tear up. It’s what she dreamed of.

  With a sigh she snapped off the tap and stepped out of the shower. She wasn’t so stupid as to actually believe in the fantasy. With only a week in New York, this could never be anything more.

  Hurriedly she dressed and did her hair and makeup. Downstairs Frank held the door for her at the waiting limo. She settled into the leather seat and closed her eyes. What seemed like a split second later, Frank was opening her door. “We’re here, ma’am.”

  She blinked, slightly disoriented. “Grazie, Frank. And it’s Tina.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He ushered her from the car.

  Tina. Couldn’t she just be Tina? “I’ll be about three hours. I’ll text you when I’m ready.”

  Up the steps she went and into the dim, swanky interior of the upmarket Italian restaurant Charmaine had recommended. The maitre d’ led her to the table where her chair was the last one vacant. Four of the Big Apple’s top fashion magazine editors and Charmaine were already seated. Groomed and well-dressed, they looked up expectantly.

  “Ciao, tutti!” And she was on. Greeting everyone by name, speaking to the waiter in Italian, feeding her neighbors from her own plate when she tasted a particularly good morsel, making sure she had a few words with every person at the table, asking about themselves so it wasn’t just about business. Of course she also talked up the boutique and the theme of her latest collection and promised front row seats at the fashion show.

  She was in her element here. This was her boardroom. These women were her colleagues—smart, savvy and ambitious. She liked them, and she liked the parry and thrust of making alliances, cutting deals, forging new markets.

  Yet it wasn’t all of who she was or even the most important part. Luke knew a completely different side to her. A loving, passionate side that had atrophied through fear. The dinner was a huge success, but she wished that at the end of it she could curl up in his arms and just be his woman.

  It was nearly midnight when Frank came to pick her up. She sank into the limo’s back seat and watched the bright lights of the sleepless city flit past. She hoped she hadn’t blown it with Luke by being so evasive. Likely it was just a matter of time before he found out on his own who she was, or someone told him. If she worried that he was mad now, it would be nothing compared to how he would feel when he learned she’d deliberately deceived him. It was no use telling herself she didn’t care what he thought about her, that she wasn’t staying in New York long, that soon she’d be back in Rome. For her at least, their liaison was no longer just about the sex. She was falling for him. Maybe tomorrow she would tell him the truth. Che sera sera.

  Back in her hotel suite she turned on her laptop to Skype her brother. Giorgio answered her video call on the first ring, his dark hair and classic Roman features filling her screen. “Ciao. Come stai?” She covered a yawn with her hand. “What’s up?

  “Fabio.” Giorgio’s dark brows pulled together in a frown. “He’s up to his old tricks.”

  “I know about the blond Englishwoman. She doesn
’t bother me. I feel sorry for her. Do you think I should warn her or will that look like jealousy?”

  “I didn’t call about her,” Giorgio said. “Fabio is suing you for breach of promise, claiming you promised to marry him and then went back on your word.”

  Tina gave an incredulous laugh. “After he defrauded me of several million euros! It will never stand up in court.”

  “I know that. He’s being vindictive, trying to harass you. But it’s going to cause a headache just the same.” Giorgio paused then added grimly, “There’s more. He’s in Manhattan. I’ve had him followed. He may try to see you so be careful.”

  “I was afraid he’d come here for fashion week. Per tutti i santi, will I never be free of that man?”

  When she’d met Fabio in Monte Carlo she’d quickly become infatuated with the handsome blond northern Italian. At first he’d been wonderful, treating her with respect but not overly deferential. Something she’d appreciated at the time. Gradually his attitude changed, alternating between obsequious and demanding. She’d told herself that she was being silly, that Fabio loved her as much as she loved him. She proved her affection by buying him his own photography business. But it had taken her brother Giorgio to see through Fabio for what he really was, a conman who was taking her for whatever he could get. Such a man cared for no one but himself.

  “I have our lawyers working on it. I wanted to tell you about the lawsuit myself before you read about it in the newspaper.” Giorgio paused. “You look tired. How is everything going there?”

  “The launch is proceeding smoothly, but the days are very long. I’m still jet-lagged.” She rubbed her gritty eyes. “Can I ask you a favor? Could you authorize the sale of some of my shares in Borlenghi Holdings? I want to transfer a million American dollars to my New York account.”

  Giorgio’s frown returned. “Does the boutique need financial help already?”

  “No, it’s a donation to a disabled children’s sports foundation.” Her brother’s eyebrows rose, and she held up a finger. “Yes, it’s a large amount but the charity is worthy.”

  “Va bene, I’m sure you know what you’re doing. It’ll take a few days to go through, though,” Giorgio said. “Oh, Layla and I will be in New York on business for a few days later this week.”

  Layla’s curling red hair and bright smile entered the frame as she draped her arms around Giorgio’s neck from behind. “We’re coming to your fashion show!”

  “I’m so glad. It’ll be wonderful to see some familiar friendly faces there.” Tina felt a special connection to her sister-in-law. She’d hired the American lingerie designer against Giorgio’s company policy because Layla was so talented and they’d become fast friends.

  “Normally fashion shows are on during the day,” she went on. “I want to make a splash, do something different, so I’m having mine at night. Afterward there’ll be a cocktail party. Make sure you bring a ballgown. Giorgio will need a tux.”

  Her brother made a resigned sound, and Tina turned back to him. “Giorgio, could you do me another favor?”

  He smiled indulgently. “Anything, cara.”

  “Remember that painting I bought last year when I was here scouting out locations for the boutique? The one of the girl in a forest. It’s hanging over my dining table at the villa. Can you bring it to me? I want to make a present of it to someone.”

  “I’ll bring it,” Angela said. Tina’s sister appeared at the edge of the screen, her head angled sideways and her messy blond hair falling over her eyes. “I’m coming to New York, too. Who’s the painting for? A man? Have you fallen in love again?”

  “She’s only asking because she’s in love,” Giorgio teased.

  “I am not.” Angela swatted her brother on the shoulder. “Rico is a horrible man who’s making my life miserable. I hate him.”

  Tina smiled affectionately at her siblings’ squabble. She missed them so much. “No, nothing like that. It’s a…parting gift.” Something for Luke to remember her by when her time in New York was over and their bedroom frolics were a fading memory. To avoid further probing on their part she turned the questioning back onto Angela. “So who is Rico?”

  “Rico Mancini is a top chef who owns three of the biggest restaurants in Florence.” Angela sighed. “If I could win the account to supply his restaurants I could grow my business by ten percent, and maybe then Giorgio would be satisfied I’m fully capable of running Borlenghi Fine Foods.”

  “I handed autonomy to each of you for your own divisions,” Giorgo protested. “What more do you want?”

  Angela leveled him a look that spoke volumes about what was missing. R.E.S.P.E.C.T. Tina understood and sympathized. Angela was the baby in the family, and they all adored her—no one more so than Giorgio—but maybe because of that he thought she was too soft-hearted for a business career. He’d given her the opportunity though, and she was doing her best to pull it off.

  “If Signor Mancini isn’t buying your products he must be crazy,” Tina said. “You source the best cheeses and salamis in Italy.”

  “And olive oils, balsamic vinegars, and dozens of other gourmet foods,” Angela fumed. “Rico’s not crazy. He just doesn’t know yet how determined I am.”

  “I pity poor Rico,” Layla said. “But he’s a match for Angela in the stubborn stakes.”

  “This clash should prove interesting,” Tina agreed, grinning. “Before I forget, are we having our annual family holiday on the yacht?”

  Francesca, her other sister, poked her dark head in. The four of them laughed as they jostled for space. “We’re discussing it right now. You’ll be back for it, won’t you? It’s coming up quickly, in ten days.”

  Only ten days. Suddenly her time in New York seemed very short. “I wouldn’t miss it, I can’t wait to see you all.”

  “Allora,” Giorgio said. “We’ll let you go. See you soon. Buonanotte.”

  “Ciao ciao. Tantassimi baci a tutti.” Kisses to everyone. She blew them the endearments and clicked off.

  Sleep eluded her even though she was so tired. A lawsuit! Her only crime had been to be too generous. Too foolish. Suddenly she was filled with fresh doubt about revealing her identity to Luke. All her wistful yearnings for a man who wanted her only for who she was inside seemed naïve. Even good men, strong men, weren’t always immune to the temptations and problems of being with a wealthy partner. Luke was facing financial difficulties. He seemed honest and hard-working, a man with integrity. But she’d believed in Fabio, too, at first. And she’d only known Luke a few days. Trusting Fabio had gotten her into deep trouble, trouble that wouldn’t go away.

  She wouldn’t tell Luke who she was. Not yet. With Fabio in the same city, she felt very vulnerable. It would be nice to know that Luke was in her corner. And her time with him was increasingly important to her. She could feel herself opening up, blossoming. In a strange way, role playing allowed her to be her true self when she was with him rather than the image she presented to the world. She wasn’t Bettina Borlenghi, businesswoman and heiress. She was just Tina, a woman who wanted to love and be loved, like anyone else.

  Luke knew her stay in New York was only temporary. He’d seemed willing to accept that. Maybe it suited him, too. She would try to make it up to him tomorrow. But why spoil their simple fun and fantasy with messy reality? Anonymity was her armor. She would wear it as long as she could.

  Chapter Seven

  The next day Luke closeted himself in his office at the back of the sports bar with the monthly accounts and tried to figure out how much money he could transfer from the bar’s earnings to the foundation. His thoughts kept looping back to Tina, alternating between imagining a criminal past to account for her evasiveness and wishing she would waltz in and interrupt his day with another of her role playing fantasies. He’d never done these things with any other woman but he liked it—a lot. Sex with Tina was incredible.

  He sighed and tried to drag his attention back to the accounts spread across his desk. He was h
ungry, and his stomach periodically made impatient noises, but he had to get this done before he took a break. The buck stopped with him. The foundation’s employees, the kids, everyone was counting on him.

  Rosie knocked on his open door and poked her head in. “A woman to see you, boss.”

  Speak of the Devil! Or should he say, an angel? Tina sauntered in, her long curling hair loose across bare shoulders. His gaze traveled down her body. Her fitted red sundress was gathered at the neckline by a yellow ribbon, nipped in at the waist and flared over her swaying hips. Wafting from the foil-covered tray in her hands came the delicious aroma of tomato and cheese.

  “I found this Italian deli that makes fabulous homemade cannelloni. I thought you might like to try it.” She set the package on his desk. “It’s a peace offering. Don’t be mad at me for yesterday, per favore.”

  How could he stay angry when she looked at him with those huge amber eyes? “Thank you, it smells awesome.” He rose. “I’ll get some plates from the kitchen.”

  “I would love to join you¸ but I have to go to work.” She turned her head too suddenly and gave an audible hiss of pain. She rubbed her temples. “With a migraine.”

  “Let me.” He came around his desk and pushed her hands away. Spearing his fingers through her hair he began to massage her scalp. After a night of getting knocked around the hockey arena in the old days he used to love getting massages and learned all the best spots to release tension.

  She let her head drop forward. “Oh, that feels good.”

  “Late night?” She nodded. He worked his way down her neck, kneading her tight muscles. “If you’re sick you should take a day off. My grandmother used to get migraines. She always said nothing helped as much as resting in a quiet, dark room.”