by Gina Ardito
He flashed an easy grin. “Do you know how expensive it is to be homeless in Manhattan these days?”
Her tinkling giggle reminded him of the wind chimes Lana hung on his balcony one summer. She’d claimed their soothing music would relax him, and it had, until the noise caused animosity with his neighbors. Then he’d removed them. Funny, he hadn’t thought about those stupid chimes in ages.
Lana, on the other hand, haunted him night and day. He always recalled the same vision of her. With hatred flashing like sharpened knives in her gray eyes when he’d confessed the severity of his misfortune. And the long curve of her back when she’d walked away a moment later.
“I’ll take your word for it,” Gianna said, snapping him into the here and now. “What did you do for a living?”
Uh-oh. Dangerous question. Yet one he felt compelled to answer. He owed her some sort of explanation. Maybe if he kept his background shadowy, she’d let the subject drop. “I handled investments. Stocks and bonds, estates and trusts.” Mainly his own, but she didn’t need to know that.
“And what happened?”
Unable to look her in the eye, he toyed with the salt and pepper shakers. Clink! Clink! “I lost it all.”
She placed a hand over his, effectively stopping the glass-on-glass noise. Then, she gave a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault.”
A flood of warmth enveloped him, but he shook away the coziness to stay on point. “Well, unfortunately, I have no one to blame but myself.”
“You don’t have family or friends who could have helped you?” Her voice was whisper soft, without demand or indignation. “At least until you got back on your feet?”
Given the opportunity, her doe eyes could easily melt the steel encasing his bones.
“Nope.” Righteous anger clipped his words, a clear warning she should back off.
“No one?”
Rolling his eyes heavenward, Kyle sent a silent plea to the Almighty to call her off.
“I mean,” she said, pulling her hand from his. “Surely there must have been someone, a friend or client, willing to help.”
Apparently, the Almighty held no more sway over Gianna than mortal men. Time to change the subject before she probed too deeply. “What about you? What’s with this wedding Claudio told me about earlier?”
In an instant, her face paled to the color of milk. “Claudio told you about Frank’s wedding?”
“He said you need a date. Don’t tell me a pretty lady like you doesn’t have a guy to accompany her.”
This time, she backed her chair from the table. “It’s a long story.” She rose and turned away.
Interesting. He’d obviously touched on a sore point. But he didn’t push. He couldn’t. Wasn’t he being cagey about his background? Those who knew him might call him many things, but hypocrite wasn’t one of them.
No matter. Eventually he’d find out her secrets. And then, perhaps, she wouldn’t enchant him. He’d discover she was like all the others, sweet and loving when he pleased them, cold and harsh when he didn’t.
“Why don’t you go upstairs?” she suggested. “Claudio and I can finish here.”
Okay, I can take a hint. I know when I’m not wanted.
Kyle rose and, bidding her goodnight, strode out the side door to the hallway leading to his temporary quarters upstairs.
Gianna headed for the kitchen where Claudio already stood up to his elbows in soapsuds, washing dishes.
“Why you let Kyle go?” He jerked his head toward the closed door. “I thought he was gonna be the new busboy.”
Arms folded over her chest, she leaned one hip against the counter. “Have you seen his hands? That man has never done any physical labor in his life. Why shame him with it now?”
“So we hired him to look pretty, cara?”
“No, but we didn’t hire him to escort me to social occasions, either.”
Claudio shrugged off her anger as he would a jacket four sizes too big. “If he no gonna work, the least he can do is look good on your arm for a night. Besides, if not him, who will you ask to go with you? You can’t go alone.”
She dropped a handful of silverware into the water with a plop. A balloon of suds splashed up and smacked him between the eyes. “Chiuda in su, Claudio.”
“What? You don’t agree so you tell me to shut up?” He wagged a soapy finger. “If your papa were here, he’d turn you over his knee for speaking so rudely to poor Claudio.”
“‘Poor Claudio’ gives as good as he gets. And Dad would probably say, ‘Brava, cara,’ for the way I’m handling things in his absence. Including you and all your nonsense.”
Claudio cocked a silver eyebrow. “You think so, eh? You think he be thrilled to know you still cry yourself to sleep?”
She whirled from the steel table behind him, her hands full of dirty ceramic casserole dishes. “I do not!”
His finger waved again. “You no lie to Claudio. You still pine for that no-good heartbreaker. How can such a smart girl be so dumb? Go home, Gianna. I finish cleaning here and I lock up when I’m through.”
****
Gianna leaned back in the chair in her best friend’s kitchen. Sipping decaf coffee, she inhaled the subtle hint of cinnamon and stroked Bomber’s dense multi-colored fur. The big cat purred and dug her claws into Gianna’s thigh, only to retract them again and again.
“So, how soon will you hear about the loan?” Hayley asked over her cup.
Didn’t anyone have anything else to talk about? Why did her problems take up so much interest with her family and friends? First Joey, now Hayley. Even the ROMEOs had harped on the status of the daycare center tonight. Until she’d promised to let them know the moment she had her approvals in hand. While her best friend deserved more information than the old men, Gianna still had no compulsion to divulge.
Hiding her frown, she nuzzled the cat. “Not for another week.”
“Have you looked into the permits yet?”
“Why bother?” She shrugged. “I don’t have the money yet.”
Hayley’s blue eyes opened wide in surprise. “Do you have any idea how long it takes to get building permits? To find a decent contractor to do the renovations? And you haven’t filed for anything except the bank loan?” She clucked her tongue. “What about that lawyer referral? Did you follow up with him, at least?”
With every question Hayley hammered, Gianna sank a little deeper into her chair. “No.”
“Have you gone to Town Hall to see about rezoning the property?”
“I don’t own the property. How can I apply for rezoning without a deed?”
“Gi, it takes weeks just to find the department head who’ll tell you it takes months to get the approval for a rezoning.”
She refused to look at Hayley, concentrating on the cat on her lap. “So?”
“So?” Hayley parroted. “You need a workable plan to get the loan from the bank. Do you know how much money it’ll cost to bring that site up to code? Even if you get the loan, you need a whole bunch of stuff to obtain the state approval. Just to apply for the license for a daycare facility requires...” Hands splayed, she counted on her fingers. “...a list of employees with background checks and references, detailed plans and procedures for the day to day operations, your financial plans. What are you waiting for?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, self-consciously running a hand through her hair. “I just can’t think straight right now—”
Hayley slammed her palms on the table, bringing Gianna’s head up with a snap. “Because of Frank’s stupid wedding invitation.”
The crushing weight of failure slouched her until she was almost part of the chair’s upholstery. “Let it go, Hayley.”
“No, I won’t let it go. But you should. Frank was a snake, but that part of your life is over. Don’t let him continue to ruin your future, especially since he’s out of it.” Her lips pursed in a moue of thoughtfulness. “Did you find a date yet?”
Oh, good
y. Let’s move on to the next tragedy. When had her life become the stuff of soap operas? And when would the temporary amnesia set in so she could escape for a while? She frowned. “Yes and no. I made the mistake of confiding in Claudio, and he mentioned the idea to Kyle.”
“Kyle? The Dumpster guy?”
“He’s not a ‘Dumpster guy.’ He’s actually very nice, and not bad-looking.”
“Define ‘not bad-looking.’”
“Tall.” She lifted a hand above her head. “Dark curly hair, hazel eyes, cleft chin, broad shoulders…”
“Yum.” Hayley smacked her lips. “Sounds like the perfect specimen. Of course, if you decide to take Mr. Yummy, you’ll have to get him something to wear. Knowing your brother, I doubt his closet’s chock-full of formal attire.”
“I know.” She sighed. “And even if there was a tux hanging in there, the fit would be positively indecent on Kyle.”
“Really?” Piqued interest flowed into Hayley’s tone with the force of an oil derrick atop a gusher. “Gee, maybe I should start hanging around Dumpsters to meet men. Sounds like you found a real prize in yours.”
“I didn’t say that,” she replied a little too quickly. “And anyway, you’re blowing Kyle’s looks way out of proportion.”
“Oh?” A golden eyebrow arched, and then fell. “My mistake. Here I thought you were telling me this guy’s a bigger hunk than your brother, which, in the grand scheme of hunkdom, puts the guy pretty high on the totem pole. So, what’s your Kyle like?”
“He’s not my Kyle, Hayley.”
“Uh-huh, sure.”
When had Hayley turned up the thermostat? The air had become unbearably warm. Perhaps steam from her coffee cup bathed her face. Or maybe Bomber’s excessive weight added to her body temperature. Either way, she resisted the urge to fan herself. No doubt, Hayley would take such a gesture the wrong way. And she wasn’t in the mood for another round of Hayley’s favorite game—Could This Be Mr. Right?
Focused on her breathing, she waited until the fever flooding her face and hands cooled. “What I meant was Joey’s clothes are too snug.”
“And I repeat. ‘Yum.’ So when do I get to meet this Adonis in bum’s clothing?”
“Anytime you like. I’m not hiding him.”
“Maybe you should.”
Puzzlement furrowed Gianna’s brow, embedding imprints on her brain. “Why? There’s nothing between us, Hayley. I’m his boss—”
“As well as his landlady.”
Shaking her head, she snorted. “Only in the loosest definition. We’re becoming friends. That’s all there is to our relationship.”
“Uh-huh.” Hayley tossed a curl of hair over one shoulder with that flirtatious grace Gianna envied so much. “Don’t you think it’s about time you considered a new guy for more than friendship? For heaven’s sake, you and Frank broke up six months ago. It didn’t take him long to replace you. Why are you waiting so long to replace him?”
“Maybe because I have scruples.” A little testy, but between the hair flip and the smart-ass attitude, Hayley deserved a little testy.
“Or maybe you still haven’t gotten over Frank the Snake. But, hey. All the more reason to have a fling with your Dumpster hunk.”
“I don’t think—”
“Ooh, ooh.” Hayley waved her hands like a contestant on a game show. “Take Kyle to the wedding. We’ll do it the way you planned. You all dolled up with a new dress, new hairstyle, a whole Pimp-My-Look kinda thing. Frank’ll take one look at you and wonder what made him choose the runner-up instead of the real prize. Even better, he won’t be able to do a thing about it, ‘cuz the yummy Kyle will be draped around your shoulders like a cheap stole.”
“I didn’t say I was taking Kyle, remember?”
“You’re running out of time, sweet cheeks. Besides, Claudio already put the idea in his head, right?”
“Well, he didn’t say he’d go,” she murmured.
All trace of humor gone, Hayley leaned on her elbows. “Maybe because you haven’t asked him yet. So what are you waiting for?”
The heat in the room increased to the interior of an active volcano. Gianna scanned the grapes and apples decorating Hayley’s wallpaper, the oaken tabletop, the mug of coffee, and Bomber’s swishing tail.
She had no one to blame but herself. All she wanted was the opportunity to shine, to show Frank and his blushing bride she’d survived their backstabbing. In thirty days’ time, she’d only discovered one viable candidate to play the gorgeous man on her arm. A homeless stranger lurking around the restaurant’s Dumpster. God, wouldn’t Frank and Rachel love that?
Humiliation scorched her cheeks, and she fought the urge to hide her face. Then, a little voice inside her head whispered, “Frank and Rachel don’t have to know.”
True. They’d be playing host to two hundred guests. If she and Kyle got through the receiving line with a minute or two of idle chitchat, Frank and Rachel wouldn’t have time to find out who Kyle was or where she’d met him. He’d just be the nameless Greek god on her arm.
Maybe this was doable after all.
Chapter Five
When Kyle placed the pineapple and avocado pizza with extra cheese in front of the gaggle of teenagers, Bethany, the purple-haired girl, fixed him with a solid stare. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
She leaned forward to inhale the scent of the pizza in one loud sniff. Sliding her black-rimmed granny glasses down her nose, she inspected him from brow to chin. “What’s your name?”
He didn’t reply to the teenage interrogation. This Gothic librarian would soon learn he didn’t play adolescent games.
“You dating Gianna?” she persisted.
“No.”
“Why not?” Her voice rose an octave and a decibel. “You prefer guys?”
In a curling wave of interest, a dozen teenagers stopped all conversation, slamming textbooks closed, to pay devoted attention to his reply.
“No,” he managed through an exasperated breath.
“Can you speak in more than one syllable?” Tommy interjected from the far corner of the booth.
“When the mood strikes me.” Their amused snorts followed him to the counter where Gianna stood. Curiosity reflected in her unwavering stare, but he shook off her silent questions.
Dating Gianna. What a ridiculous supposition.
Oh, she was pretty enough. And in an unspoiled way, not like the debutantes and social climbers with whom he normally came in contact. Still, she and he had nothing in common. He was a product of breeding and Fifth Avenue. His family could trace their roots back to the Mayflower. She was a product of hoi polloi and the suburbs. No doubt her roots were steeped in extra virgin olive oil.
Unaware of what he hid behind his furrowed brow, she smiled. Molten heat simmered in the pit of his belly, and then spread through his limbs like hot coffee, enervating and energizing him at the same time. With the same strength Atlas must have used to carry the world on his shoulders, Kyle tore his gaze away from her intoxicating mouth and frowned. Gianna evoked the strangest emotions in his psyche.
While he couldn’t wait until this episode in his life came to an end, a part of him knew he’d miss her smile, the powdery scent of her skin, the thick river of black hair cascading to the middle of her back, the melodious song of her voice…
“Don’t let Tommy scare you off, Jeeves,” Bethany called, breaking the mystical spell Gianna cast. “We’re just having a little fun.”
At first he thought to ignore the name, but the snickers grew so loud they burned his ears.
“Yeah, c’mon, Jeeves. Can’t you take a joke?”
“Hey, Jeeves, what happened to your sense of humor?”
He whirled from the counter, his gaze boring into the leader of the brat pack.
“Uh-oh, Beth. I think you got Jeeves mad now,” Tommy announced in a mock whisper.
“My name is Kyle,” he finally said through clenched teeth.
“To
o late.” Bethany waved off his angry stare with a flutter of silver-ringed fingers. “You had your chance to tell us your name, but you didn’t answer. So we made one up. From now on, you’ll be known as Jeeves.”
“Bethany,” Gianna chided gently. “Don’t tease Kyle.”
“His name is Jeeves, Gi,” Bethany insisted.
“My name is Kyle!” By God, how many insults would he be forced to take from these hooligans?
Gianna leaned over the counter and placed a hand on his wrist. Amazing how, with such a simple gesture, she instilled peace to his frazzled nerves. “Remember what I told you about treating everyone as if they were family?”
Yes, but for every rule there was an exception. “To quote Rodney Dangerfield,” he replied, jerking his head toward the teenage ambush squad. “‘Now I know why tigers eat their young.’”
She giggled, and then lowered her voice. “If they see they’ve got you rattled, they’ll keep harassing you. Don’t give them the satisfaction. And if it makes you feel better, when they first met me they gave me the name Mama Celeste.”
Despite a fight for self-control, a snicker escaped his clamped lips.
Her eyebrows shot up in a questioning glare.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She held a finger before his nose. “But if you tell anyone what they used to call me, you’ll go through the rest of your days here as Jeeves.”
“Fair enough,” he agreed. Just then, Claudio shuffled by, dragging a wet mop across the floor. Kyle nodded in his direction. “What’d they call him?”
“What they still call him...Mumbles.”
He tossed his head and laughed. “Perfect!”
“So you’ll put up with Jeeves for a little while?”
“For a very little while. How’d you get them to stop calling you Mama Celeste?”
“I made up names for them.” She shrugged. “I guess they didn’t like my choices because they mutually agreed to go back to our given names.”
“How long before they changed their minds?”
“Three months.”
Three months. He’d be long gone by then, thank God. This place with all its loony residents would fade into distant memory, like a nightmare brought on by watching a horror movie after eating bad Chinese food. He’d go home and forget all about Villa Mare, Claudio, Bethany and Tommy, and Gianna.