His eyes twinkled. “They’d get a kick out of that.”
She smiled. “Good. That’s settled then. How about a cup of coffee and we’ll drink to a happy working relationship.”
“I’d rather drink to something else.” Without taking a step he leaned into her. His mouth was tantalizingly close. If she lifted her chin just a little, her lips would brush his.
She wanted to taste his kisses once more, but she was too smart for that. Passion could not be allowed to cloud her judgment. And she couldn’t very well have an affair with him if they were to have a business arrangement, now could she? One thing she prided herself on was being smart when she’d rather be foolish. She kept that instinct under strict control, because if she ever let it loose she might start to like it, and where would that take her?
“Don’t start with that again,” she answered with a teasing smile, fighting the urge to wrap her arms around his neck. She would never be the clingy type again.
“All right. Your loss,” he said, taking a step back.
Relief was mixed with disappointment, and she didn’t want to know which emotion was stronger. What she did want was to end this physical attraction she had for him, and to keep her romantic notions under control and focus on building the damn business.
“Derek? I just had a thought. Maybe we could get a couple of shots of you on a construction site, building for Habitat. I mean, that alone would make women beg.” She grinned. “We’d have more applicants than we’d know what to do with. Trouble is—they’d all want to meet you.”
He wiped his mouth and looked disgusted. “I don’t want women to beg, neither am I looking for anyone. I lost the love of my life and don’t expect to ever find another. No one could measure up, I’m afraid.” He shrugged to show her he didn’t care. “I’m not dating material because the women would only get my body, but not my heart. They deserve more than that.”
Christine’s stomach plummeted for some strange reason. Was it merely sympathy she was feeling, or could this gut twister be more personal than that?
She understood completely what he was telling her. Derek loved his wife and until he was over grieving, he would not be good for anybody. “I understand, Derek, and I respect that completely.” She touched his arm and said gently, “If and when you change your mind, I’m sure you’ll let me know. I would be more than happy to help you in your search.”
He stepped back from her. “I won’t need your help.”
Christine thought she saw a flicker of anger in his eyes, and noticed his jaw was clenched. His voice didn’t sound too pleased either when he said, “Well, since we are both on the same page here and neither of us wants a companion, we’ll make sure that that”—he gestured toward her rumpled bed—“doesn’t happen again.”
“Yes, that’s exactly how I feel.” Christine answered a little too eagerly.
“Okay, agreed.” His expression soured. “I’ll be your model, but that’s it. Don’t get involved in my personal life.”
“Of course.” She swallowed hard. “Thank you, Derek.”
His lips smiled, but his eyes didn’t. “I should thank you. I enjoyed the dinner and the fuck.”
She hated that word. It cheapened her and the beautiful night they’d shared. “I would say you’re welcome, but I think we both know it was more than that.”
“Do we?”
She didn’t answer. She watched him pick up his keys, flick his jacket over his shoulder, and saunter out.
She had to give it to him. The man had style.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Christine had mixed feelings about Nicole moving home. The mother part of her was delighted to have her daughter back so that she could help her get back on track. She wanted Nicole to have the chance to pursue her dreams, if she still had them. And if she didn’t, then Christine hoped that after a few months of living under the same roof, she could raise her daughter’s expectations. If you never yearned for anything and didn’t fight for it, then what was the point of getting out of bed each morning?
Knowing she was being somewhat selfish, another part of her wanted her space and freedom. Having sold the salon where she’d worked for most of her life, and no longer married, she’d looked forward to moving forward, and didn’t want to take care of anybody but herself. She wanted “her” time to do “her” thing—even if it was selfish. And, truthfully, she was really jazzed about this dating service project.
She wouldn’t admit this to a living soul, but a big part of her excitement over Champagne was because she loved the idea of bringing couples together. It was like writing a romance novel where you could bring about the happy ending. She wanted to orchestrate the happy endings for hundreds of couples. She wanted to share in their joy and feel a part of their happiness.
Even after all these years, she was still a hopelessly romantic twit who’d had her heart ripped right out of her and yet still clung to the ridiculous idea of happily-ever-after. She knew in most cases it only happened in books and on-screen, but every now and then true love did happen. She firmly believed this.
Thank heavens her daughter had not wanted to commit her love to Brett. Christine had never forgiven him for asking Nicole to give up her education and go with him to California. From that moment on she couldn’t think of a nice thing to say about him. So wisely, she said nothing.
The first time Nicole left Brett was six months after moving to California. She’d come home for a couple of weeks, but had done nothing but cry. Finally, he’d convinced her to return to him. She’d stayed nearly a year, then left him again. That time she’d stayed away for a month, and Christine had thought it was finally over. But, once again, Nicole went back.
Six months later, they both moved back to Florida. Now, finally, hopefully, after nearly three years of fighting and getting back together, her daughter was leaving him for good.
When Christine arrived at Nic’s and Brett’s apartment, Nicole was downstairs waiting. It was evident by the way she was pacing that she couldn’t wait to get out of there.
Christine noticed how incredibly thin she’d become. Either that or the pair of skinny jeans and cropped top merely emphasized Nicole’s tiny waist and long legs. She had her long brown hair in a messy clip on the back of her head. Her usually smiling face looked pale and drawn, and Christine noticed her eyes were red and puffy.
She had her personal belongings stacked into a corner of the lobby. Two large suitcases, a bike, roller blades, a tennis racquet, and several large black garbage bags full of books, CD’s, photos, and everyday paraphernalia.
“You okay, honey?” Christine asked.
“Uh-huh. I’m not in the mood to talk about it, okay?” She gave her mom a quick hug. “Thanks for coming, and I’m sorry to have to do this to you again. It’s the last time, I promise.”
Christine sincerely hoped this would be the last. “That’s all right. I’m always happy to have you home.”
Nicole’s eyes misted. “I know.”
The doorman helped carry the belongings outside, and Nicole went to get her car out of the garage parking. She drove a used Honda CRV and was able to take the bike and the bulkier items, while Christine’s Mercedes was full of clothing and bags.
“Brett said I could come back for the kitchenware and any furniture that I want, but I don’t want anything,” Nicole told her mother once they cars were packed. “I just want out.”
* * *
Driving to her mother’s home, Nicole recalled the night she’d been through. The fight, his rage, locking the bedroom door on him, calling her mother. Then, like always, this morning he’d been apologetic, crying, telling her he loved her and needed her.
What kind of idiot did he take her for?
She was shaking in fury. The back of her knuckles were almost white, she was gripping the wheel so tight. She lightened her grip and took her foot of the pedal, reducing her speed to five miles over the set limit. Her mom was following her, and she’d have a cow if she didn’t slow do
wn some.
She was so sick and tired of Brett’s behavior. He’d been verbally abusive for the past year, and had slapped her a couple of times too. Then he lays on the guilt trip as she’s walking out the door. To hell with him! She wasn’t going to be his victim anymore. It had taken her long enough to stand up for herself and realize that he’d never change, and that the abuse would only get worse. Finally she got the courage to walk away. It was over. Finished.
Actually, now that she thought back on it, she was kind of proud of herself. When he’d cried and pleaded, she’d remained calm and detached, telling him she was sorry but her feelings had changed. It shouldn’t have been that big of a surprise since their entire relationship had been unstable, on and off, pretty much since they’d met.
Then things got ugly, and he accused her of falling for his brother. Well, that was the final straw. She lost it.
Admittingly, her feelings for Jake were…complicated. She cared for him a lot. He was kind and sweet and the most honorable man she had ever met. Still, she had never even flirted with him, although there were times when she’d wanted to. If she did have any secret yearnings for him, she’d kept them to herself.
She had no idea if Jake had any reciprocal feelings for her. Knowing what kind of man he was, it was unlikely that he would have allowed himself to care for his brother’s girlfriend. He’d think that was a huge betrayal, even if his brother was a jerk, and if the woman he cared about felt the same way too.
Jake was a decorated war hero, and had served two tours in Iraq. He’d come home a year ago after being gravely injured in an explosion. He’d nearly lost his leg, and had had several surgeries to repair his shattered bones and torn muscles. But he’d kept his spirits up and had never complained. His home was only a few blocks from the bar where she worked, and so she began dropping in to cheer him up. Funny thing was, he usually cheered her up instead. Even in adversity, facing amputation, knowing he would never be whole again, he had remained strong and optimistic.
One of the things that attracted her the most, was that he never wallowed in bitterness. Instead he’d insisted he had been luckier than most. One leg was shorter than the other and he had to use a cane, but he accepted it just fine.
Once his wounds were healed, he was deployed in non-active duty to San Diego, and had two more years of service before retirement.
In a couple of months he’d be coming home for the holidays, and he would know that she had split with his brother. If his feelings were half as strong as her own, he would come for her.
CHAPTER NINE
Derek was not having a good day. One of the guys he worked with had cut out that damn Merry Matchmakers’ ad and brought it down to the construction site, taping it to his truck for everyone to see. All his co-workers had laughed at him and shouted out insults about how he couldn’t get a date without paying for it, and he’d shot back that they were just all jealous and he’d make sure to bring photos of the twenty-year-old model he was taking out next week.
He tore the ad down, but an hour later when he went back to his truck to get a tool, another copy of the ad was taped to the window. He left it, figuring there might be numerous copies floating around. The teasing didn’t bother him as much as he pretended. What really bothered him was what happened at Christine’s the night before.
What the heck had gotten into him? Why had he agreed to model for a dating service, and why had he taken her to bed? He’d promised he wouldn’t sleep with a woman again until he had a damn good reason. Funny thing was, before and after they’d made love, he’d been aware of so many small, endearing things about her. He knew that when she was thinking about something, she got a tiny crease between her eyes and licked her bottom lip. He knew she got all tart and prickly when she felt threatened. He knew that one dimple of hers would flash when least expected, and that heat soared through his veins when it did.
So, what did that mean? It didn’t mean he didn’t love his wife, that was for sure.
He started sawing away like he had a personal vendetta against the piece of wood he was cutting.
Eventually he’d want another woman in his life, but he wasn’t ready. It wouldn’t be fair to her, because he’d always compare the lady in question to his wife and find her wanting. Not that his beautiful Shannon had been perfect, but she’d been damn close. Even during those last months when the pain had been more than he could endure, she had not complained. She’d been stoic all the way through her last year on earth, the year of hell. First losing her breast, and then the chemo, with its debilitating sickness and the loss of her beautiful hair.
She had been the strong one, not him. He had cried like a baby when she lost her breast, and then her hair, and last, her life.
Maddie sidled up beside him. “Hey, big fella, don’t look so down in the dumps. I’ll buy you a beer after work.”
“No way.” He shook his memories off. Shannon had passed away nearly three years ago, and he couldn’t go around hating the world forever. “I’ll buy you one instead.”
Her smile grew wider. He knew she was soft on him, and he didn’t want to encourage her. But they were buddies and a couple of beers always went down well after a hard day’s work.
“Sounds even better. So how are the boys doing? Is Kevin still thinking of going to Indiana?”
“Yup. He’s got his hopes up, that’s for sure. We’ll have to wait and see if he gets offered a scholarship.”
“You’ll miss him if he goes.”
“I know I will, but I still gotta let him go. Did I tell you that Kyle won a chess tournament at his school and is playing number two singles for his tennis team?”
Maddie stuck her hands in her pockets. “That’s great. So how did that date thing go last night?”
He told her how he’d stupidly agreed to be the face of the new ad campaign. “I don’t know why they want me. The upscale ladies in town wouldn’t be interested in a man like me.”
“Sure they would. But you sure in heck don’t need a dating service to get some action.” She peered at him and wrinkled her nose. “Guy like you could meet plenty of women on your own.”
“I’m not interested, remember?”
She walked away, and Derek was left wondering how Christine had rattled him so badly that he’d agreed to do what she wanted. Instead of saying he’d model, he should have told her he’d meet all these other women and fuck their brains out. What would she have said to that?
Hell. What was wrong with him? Christine meant nothing to him, and he had zero interest in meeting anyone. Wouldn’t matter how attractive, or how rich, or how damn sexy she was.
He had loved his sweet Shannon with all his heart, and couldn’t imagine ever feeling that way again. Maybe one day he’d find a woman to love again, but he wasn’t about to start looking.
* * *
Anne Bradley was dressed in a new skirt and silk blouse that she’d bought on her shopping spree in Florence, thanks to her lost luggage. Her bag still had not shown up, so it was a good thing she’d bought a few nice things.
She admired her hair in the mirror, happy that she had allowed Christine to color away the gray. Now she had a sassy new cut and her hair was a soft blonde, and she looked at least ten years younger. She’d bought some new makeup for this trip too, and with a shaky hand she stroked mascara onto her lashes. Why, look how pretty they made her eyes. Her husband, Charlie, had always loved her sparkling blue eyes. She smiled at her reflection before turning away.
She had a date! Salvatore had waited for her to return from shopping in the hope she’d have dinner with him. She had stayed for a drink but was too tired from her flight over and had refused the dinner invitation. When he asked her if she was free for the following night she had said yes.
She felt a little naughty about ditching her friends to go out with a handsome stranger, but she was in Italy for the first time in her life, and what happened here would stay here, she decided.
Salvatore picked her from her hotel a
nd took her to what he told her was his favorite restaurant in Florence, Trattoria dei Quattro Leoni. It was a lovely home-styled restaurant with traditional Mediterranean cuisine, and to impress her further, the walls were lined with pictures of famous people who’d dined there.
They started with a platter of antipasto, then Salvatore had ravioli stuffed with lobster, and Anne chose sole with a champagne and caper sauce. During their dinner they drank wine and laughed a lot. He told her about the vineyard his family owned. His sales work for the vineyard entailed traveling extensively throughout Italy and France, distributing his family’s award-winning wines.
She told him about her life in Florida, the fact that she’d been widowed four years ago and did volunteer work to keep her busy.
“My friends and I do a little ballroom dancing. We go every Friday night,” she giggled. “We thought we could meet some men, and lose weight on the dance floor.” Anne didn’t tell him that most evenings the women either ended up dancing together or sitting out. She wanted him to see her as a vivacious, glamorous woman, because his life seemed so thrilling. “My husband never liked to dance, so I’m making up for lost time.”
“I know just the spot for dancing. Will you let me take you?”
“I sure would. I’d love that, Salvatore.” He kissed her hand and called the waiter for the check.
She knew he was romancing her and didn’t mind a bit. She wasn’t sure where it would all lead, or if she even wanted it to lead anywhere, but right now she was having the time of her life. She would never forget this glorious night in Florence with this handsome, sophisticated man. It was a memory worth making.
They walked several blocks to a jazz bar and bistro he knew. They sat at a table and he ordered espresso for them and two shots of Sambuca. Instead of jazz, lovely music was coming from the amplifiers, and it put her in a dreamy mood. “This is beautiful. Who is that singing?”
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