A Little Slice of Heaven

by Gina Ardito

  His woodsy aftershave enveloped her in pine and balsam, evoking images of a primeval forest, cool, secluded, and tranquil. Safe within his protective grasp, she pressed her face into the crook of his neck.

  The tears still fell, but their descent slowed to a crawl while he crooned in a voice as rich and deep as dark chocolate. “Ssshh, easy, sweetheart. You’ve had a rough time lately. You take too much upon yourself. Do you know that? You should trust someone to help you every once in a while.”

  Instantly, her eyes dried. His advice stung with the hot needles of a thousand bees, and she pulled away. “Trust someone? Do you really believe that? You, who couldn’t find a helping hand at the lowest point in your life? You’re going to lecture me about trusting someone?”

  A fingertip whisked across her cheekbone to dry the last teardrop. “We’re not talking about my situation, Gianna.”

  His hand slipped to her nape. Fingers pressed against the base of her skull, massaging the stress from her brain. Like a parent with a feverish child, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “Besides,” he added. “I asked for help and didn’t receive it. You never asked.”

  “What makes you say that? You don’t know anything about me. You don’t even know why I’m so upset. I’ll bet you think—”

  Without warning, his lips came down on hers, cutting off her argument and sending logic fluttering like a feather in a windstorm. His breath jetted warm air into her mouth as his tongue swept inside. To her surprise, she welcomed this invasion, winding her arms around his neck to pull him closer. Her tongue fenced with his, delighting in the flavors of his mouth. He tasted sweet and heady, like a sip of dessert wine after a big meal.

  Her bones melted, leaving her completely dependent upon her hold around his neck to keep from sinking to the ground in a pool of liquid. Thunder roared in her ears, and her heartbeat galloped against his. Nothing existed but the melding of their lips, their breaths, their souls. His hands moved to her shoulders. With a hint of pressure, he broke contact.

  “Wh-why did you do that?” Her voice sounded breathless and a little shaky in her buzzing ears.

  “Beats me,” he said with a lazy grin and an even lazier shrug. “But I think I’d like to try again.”

  She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, waiting for the tentative connection to bring her to the brink again.

  “Gianna?” A child’s voice shattered the hazy dream around her.

  As if she’d stuck a fork into an electrical outlet, she snapped to reality. One of the Melendez children, four-year-old Riel, stood beside them, waving a paper. Good Lord, where had her common sense gone?

  “Look what I made you,” Riel said. Shaky hearts and flowers covered the paper in a riot of pink, blue, and green.

  “Oh, Riel, how beautiful! What do you say we go inside? I’ll tape this on the wall for everyone to see.” Ignoring Kyle, she took the child’s hand and guided him into the restaurant.

  Don’t allow anyone to see the way your hands shake or how your heartbeat echoes in your throat. Feign indifference.

  Cool as a cucumber. It was just a kiss after all. Nothing to get weak in the knees about. Just a simple little kiss.

  Chapter Nine

  Kyle followed Gianna and the little boy inside. Mentally, he retraced his steps. Where had he gone wrong? Then again, his outrageous action had made her forget her errand. So maybe the end justified the means. Even if the means weren’t what he’d originally planned.

  Based on what he’d overheard, he knew that last phone call came from Lucinda. And when Gianna left the children in his care for a few minutes, his instincts screamed she intended to confront Hayley about her possible involvement in the makeover. So he’d followed her to buy time.

  He wanted to convince her that even if Hayley were responsible, she’d never admit to the subterfuge. When he saw her crying, however, thoughts of Hayley and Lucinda fled his mind with the speed of a hungry lion chasing a herd of gazelles. Still, kissing Gianna went far beyond common sense. In one instant, she’d looked so vulnerable, yet so alluring. Logic took a vacation.

  Because she stepped into his embrace so willingly, he couldn’t stop from kissing her any more than he could stop the sun from rising. And Lord, she was the sweetest ambrosia he’d sipped in ages! Soft and honeyed, even finer than Napoleon brandy. Now, having tasted her once, he longed to do so again.

  His heart knew another kiss would be a huge mistake. In all their time together, Gianna had given freely of herself. How could he possibly repay her generosity, her openness, by beginning a relationship with her that could only be temporary? Such an action would make him no better than that unfeeling clod, Frank. If he were honest with himself, he’d admit he liked Gianna far too much to treat her badly.

  In another time and place, he might have tried for some sort of semi-permanent connection to her. He’d spent enough sleepless nights envisioning having her curvaceous figure in his home, in his arms. But New York society would welcome Gianna Randazzo with the same enthusiasm offered to a cockroach in a pantry. No doubt, his co-op board would have a field day deriding her lack of pedigree, her working class background, and her less than stellar social skills. At every important function, she’d face the snubs and insults the matrons regularly inflicted on outsiders. Someone as tenderhearted as Gianna simply wasn’t strong enough to handle that abuse.

  Since she appeared intent upon ignoring him, his opinion hardly mattered at the moment. Perhaps she hadn’t been as affected by their kiss as he. Or perhaps his little faux pas had affected her more than she let on. Either way, she sat in the booth across from the Melendez children writing something with a purple crayon, her attention completely focused on this new task. Curious, he leaned over her shoulder to see a large A drawn in the shape of an arrow.

  “Who can tell me what this letter is?” She pointed with the tip of the crayon.

  “I know,” the girl screeched. “A. A for arrow.”

  “Very good, Crystal. That’s correct.” She clapped, and then quickly sketched a new picture, a butterfly containing a B. “Christopher, do you know what letter this is?”

  “Hey, Jeeves.” Claudio drew Kyle’s attention from the little boy’s answer. “You working today?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then how about you drag your sorry behind over here and gimme and Salvatore a little help, eh?”

  With a tired sigh, he left Gianna instructing the children in their letters and took his place behind the counter to create the first of many pizzas. While his hands busied themselves with dough, sauce, and cheese, his eyes watched Gianna.

  For over an hour, she sat at the booth with the children, drawing pictures, singing songs, and telling stories. Strangely, the more time Gianna spent with them, the more animated and child-like she herself became. Her eyes grew wider and rounder, her smile broader, her motions and gestures less controlled. In a nutshell, she changed from a subdued adult to a wild child. Kyle found the transformation so utterly charming, he almost wished he could be five years old again and join the fun. She created hand puppets out of plastic gloves and drums from washed out cans of tomato puree. After crafting hats from sheets of aluminum foil, she led the children in a parade around the dining room, using a pepper grinder as a baton.

  With a sparkle in her eyes, laughter filling the pizzeria, and her poise while she sat on the floor, he could easily see her gift for teaching. So why the hell wasn’t she pursuing the profession she so obviously loved? What would make someone relinquish a calling so strong in favor of stirring tomato sauce and serving pizzas in her family’s restaurant? Why wasn’t this talented and generous woman teaching lucky students on a daily basis?

  His mind itched to find answers, but nothing came to mind, no matter how he mentally scratched his brain. The arrival of the lunch crowd distracted him from pursuing the subject more seriously.

  Until a squat man, tools dangling from a heavy belt around his waist, flashed puppy dog eyes at Gianna. “How’s it going, Gi?
”

  Cross-legged on the floor, Gianna looked up, straightening her foil hat before it slid off her head. “Good, Tony. How ‘bout with you? How’s A.J. doing?”

  “Gained three pounds already,” Tony replied with a proud grin. “You’d never know he was sick a month ago.”

  Smiling, she rose. “That’s great. I’m so glad his condition wasn’t serious.”

  “You ain’t kidding. He gave us some scare, eh?” He gestured to the Melendez children with a head jerk. “What’s with the rugrats? You taking in kids here until you get your permits?”

  “No, I’m just helping out a friend.”

  He nodded. “Uh-huh. Have you heard anything from the state yet?”

  “Not yet.” Gianna’s lips disappeared in a tight line.

  “You’ll be sure to let me know the minute you get the approvals? I still owe you for what you did when A.J. was sick.”

  Once again, Gianna dismissed the man’s gratitude with an easy hand wave. “You don’t owe me anything, Tony.”

  “Like hell. Rosa considers you her guardian angel. If you hadn’t taken care of our daughters while I was working, Rosa wouldn’t have been able to stay with A.J. at the hospital.” He thumped his chest. “You did for us, now we do for you. I told you then, ‘Whatever you need in the line of construction work, you let me know. Done deal. No charge.’”

  “Tony, I couldn’t possibly accept—”

  “Tony,” Sal called from behind the counter, a brown bag dangling from his hand. “Your veal parmiagiana hero’s up.”

  When he turned to grab the bag, his heavy tool belt hit the Formica’s edge with loud clanks. “I gotta get back to work, but be sure to call me the minute you hear from the state, okay?”

  “We’ll see.”

  The bell jangled behind Tony as he left the restaurant.

  While Gianna started the children singing, “The Wheels on the Bus,” Kyle turned to Sal. “Who was that?”

  “Tony Garibaldi,” Sal said. “Owns G&D Construction. His son had a medical scare last month. Poor little guy’s only five months old.”

  “What happened?”

  “A.J. started running a pretty high fever one night,” Sal replied. “They rushed him to the hospital. Doctors thought he might have spinal meningitis. They quarantined him in the hospital for five days while they waited for the results of a spinal tap. In the end, the fever came from some mild virus.”

  “What does he have to do with Gianna?”

  Sal jerked his head in Gianna’s direction. “Tony and Rosa have two little girls at home, too. Marissa is eight, and Dina is eleven. Gianna volunteered to watch them so Rosa could stay at her son’s bedside at the hospital.”

  Gianna pulled off the foil hat and dropped it on Sal’s head. “I picked up the girls at school in the afternoon and stayed with them until their dad got home. That’s all. Tony and Rosa make a huge fuss over no big deal. I didn’t exactly give A.J. a kidney.”

  Surely she didn’t intend to minimize her generosity again. The woman had a heart as wide as the ocean. “Kidney or not,” Kyle said, “Tony seems to think your staying with the kids was a big deal.”

  “Parents always think it’s a big deal when they have to find childcare for their little ones,” Sal remarked. “Whether it’s for an emergency or just day-to-day.”

  “You got that right,” Gianna returned her attention to the little ones currently seated in the pizzeria. “‘The people on the bus go up and down...’”

  The three children chorused, “‘Up and down, up and down.’”

  Quirking his mouth, Sal sucked air into his cheek. “She’s something, isn’t she?”

  More than something. In a picture of nonchalance, Kyle folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the orange Formica counter. “You could say that.”

  “I just did,” Sal retorted. “I swear, if I weren’t married to the love of my life, I’d have run off with Gianna years ago.”

  “Bah!” Claudio popped out of the storage closet. “You not good enough for Gianna. I should know, eh? I’m-a your pop.” He leveled a predatory eye on Kyle. “You not good enough either, so fuhgeddaboudit. Now get back to work. Both of you. Lazy bums…”

  For the next hour and a half, Kyle slid slices into the oven and pulled them out, filled paper cups with ice and soft drinks, and made idle chitchat with Sal and the locals.

  Once the crowds eased, he leaned against the counter to catch some breathing room. The little girl—Crystal?—yanked on his shirt sleeve. When he looked down, she presented him with a piece of construction paper on which she’d drawn a long line with a big circle on top. The circle held a half-moon in the lower part and two dashes above. Eyes and a smiling mouth, he surmised. A lopsided pink heart surrounded the stick figure.

  “That’s you, Kyle,” she lisped, pointing to the circle. “I’m sorry I don’t draw good. You’re prettier in real life.”

  The image looked more like a lollipop than a person, pretty or otherwise, but he knelt to accept the drawing with a smile. “I think you drew me very well. And besides, you’re the prettiest person in this whole town.”

  Crystal’s big brown eyes grew wider. Long, thick lashes batted against peachy cheeks. “Really?”

  “Really.” Catching her somber expression, he added, “Except maybe Claudio.”

  Laughter exploded from Sal.

  Even Crystal gave in to a fit of giggles. But she took her approval one step further and flung her skinny arms around his neck. “I love you, Kyle. When I grow up, will you marry me?”

  “I’ll be waiting,” he assured her, gathering her close in a bear hug.

  What a little sweetheart! If he thought his own daughter would turn out this charming, he’d have married and had dozens of children by now. Who knew? In twenty years or so, he just might take this angel up on her offer. He’d probably be available.

  Above the tiny head, his gaze locked onto Gianna’s. Her mute approval charged the air with static electricity. God, he wanted to kiss her again more than he wanted breath to fill his lungs. But no, he’d walk this tightrope without losing his balance. He’d made a decision. Gianna was off-limits.

  He settled for placing his lips against the top of Crystal’s hair, breathing in the watermelon scent of her shampoo.

  ****

  When Mrs. Melendez returned to take her children home, they wrapped their arms around Gianna, buried their faces against her stomach and clung.

  “No, Mommy, no!” Riel exclaimed. “We want to stay here.”

  With an apologetic smile, Gianna looked up from the three dark heads burrowed in her waist. “How did the interview go?”

  Mrs. Melendez nodded. “Good, I think. I’m sorry I’m late. I met with the personnel director and the head of the department. They said they’d get back to me by Friday afternoon.”

  “Well, that sounds encouraging.”

  “I thought so, too. But now I have to find a babysitter.” She crossed her fingers. “Just in case.”

  “I told you I’d watch them.”

  The children, listening with big ears to the adults’ conversation, immediately pleaded with their mother. “Please, Mommy, can Gianna watch us? Pretty please?”

  “And Kyle, too!” Crystal chimed in. “Kyle can watch us, too.”

  Mrs. Melendez’s dark eyes studied Gianna’s face. “Why do you suppose she wants Kyle there?”

  “I can’t imagine.”

  “We’re going to get married someday,” Crystal replied. She turned to Kyle, standing behind the counter. “Right?”

  “You bet, sweetheart,” he said, winking at the child.

  “But only if Gianna doesn’t marry him first. She kissed him outside in the parking lot. On the lips!”

  A dozen heads swerved between Kyle and Gianna, each more curious than the other. Gianna’s cheeks burst into an inferno, and she stared at the parking lot until the fire cooled.

  “Well, well,” Mrs. Melendez remarked, folding her arms over her ample
bosom. “Out of the mouths of babes.”

  “I gotta admit.” Bethany pointed from her usual seat in her usual booth. “The kid makes sense. You two make a great couple. I don’t know how I missed the signs until now. I’m going to be a psych major, after all. You and Jeeves are perfect for each other. He’s stiff and serious. Good-looking but in a prickly sort of way. You’re fun and pretty, but too soft. Think about it. You’re a doormat and he’s a pair of kick-ass boots.”

  Indignation rose like smoke up a chimney, and the fine hairs on her nape danced. “I am not a doormat.”

  “Sure you are. But that’s what makes you special. And Jeeves, well, he won’t take crap from anyone.” She chuckled and leaned back, swinging her legs onto the bench. “Not even from me. Face it. You guys balance each other out. You’re a match made in heaven.”

  Gianna’s feet wanted to run, but with hands fisted at her sides, she held her ground, glaring at Bethany. Et tu, Brute?

  Now what should she do? Any denial she made would add fuel to the fire. And Kyle’s rounded eyes said he was as surprised by this turn of events as she. Try as she might, no clever quip or sarcastic reply came to mind. And all those eyes… Why did everyone stare at her as if she were a puppy in a storefront window? Was this Gang Up On Gianna Day or something?

  “Don’t you have a class now, Bethany?”

  “Nope.” She flashed a Cheshire cat grin, black lipstick ghoulish against white teeth. “I’m all done today. So I’m gonna stay here ‘til Tommy gets out of football practice at five-thirty.”

  “Lucky us,” Gianna muttered.

  “Well,” Mrs. Melendez cut in as she tousled her twins’ heads. “I’m going to take my guys home. Gianna, if you’re serious about watching them, you’d really put my mind at ease.”

  “Of course I’m serious,” she replied. At least the subject had veered off her love life. “Call me the minute CompTech offers you the job. You want me at your house, I’ll be there. I promise.”

  “Kyle, too?” Crystal repeated.