One Shameless Night: An Enemies To Lovers Stand Alone Single Dad Romance (The West Sisters Novel Book 2)

by A. Hargrove

  He held out his hand so we could shake. What a cutie pie. I wanted to hug him instead. My eyes watered because he made me miss home again, so I pretended I had something in one of them.

  “Let my Papa look. He's good at finding things in eyes. Aren't you, Papa?”

  Before Professor Asshole could reply, I said, “It's okay. I think I blinked it away.”

  “Do you still want to come over to my house and play football?” he asked.

  “Gabriele, Ms. West has other things to do.” Alessandro would rather have the plague descend on his home than a visit from me, or at least his tone indicated it.

  “Um, maybe today's not a good day. Why don't we plan for another time?”

  “Nooo. I want you to come today. Then you can meet my nonno. He's very nice and will like you. He'll want you to be Papa's wife too.”

  This kid was not giving up. I had no idea what to say to him. Alessandro scowled. Gabriele grinned.

  “Tell you what. I can stop by for just a little while. But I won't be able to come until after three.”

  Alessandro’s jaw ticked again, a million miles a minute and for some reason, that made me happy.

  Gabriele asked, “What's three?”

  The adorable child's foul-tempered father said, “Ms. West means later on this afternoon. Like about the time you get home from school.”

  Then I checked the time and knew I best get going. As I stood, little Gabriele leaped up to pull my chair out. Wow. Such a little gentleman he was.

  “Thank you.”

  “You're welcome. Nonno says to treat the ladies well and I'll always get what I want from them, whatever that means.”

  I threw back my head and laughed. It was the first time I belted out a laugh like that in a while. “Your nonno sounds like a very wise man.”

  “He is. Wait until you meet him. He has white hair, but he's real nice.”

  “You know something, Gabriele?”

  “What?”

  “You are a very lucky boy. You have two people who love you very much.”

  “Don't forget my other nonno and I have two nonne too.”

  “Then you are extra lucky.”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “I'll see you later this afternoon. Where do you live?” Glancing warily at Alessandro, I raised my brows.

  He held his hand out.

  “What?”

  “Your phone, please,” he bit out.

  After my last brush with phones and Sam, a.k.a. crazy dude, I briefly wondered about this. But then I knew Alessandro was different. Trust wasn't an issue with him because I knew exactly where to find him. Not only that, he had this lovely young son and wouldn't let any harm come to him. As much as he didn't want to be near me, it was obvious in the way he looked at Gabriele that he adored him. I handed him my phone and watched him tap in the address.

  “It's not too far from here. In fact, you can walk.”

  “That's good. I can walk home from here too. Later, guys.” I waved as I walked away. This was a very bad idea, but I didn't know how else to handle it. Alessandro didn't help matters either. But Gabriele had been extremely persistent too.

  It was getting late, so I hurried home to shower and change so I could get to the police station in time to meet the detectives. They were waiting on me when I arrived. We went into a small room and they relayed their plan to me. I listened to everything, but with each word, my gut twisted into bigger and bigger knots.

  “Let me get this straight. You want me to invite him over and dump my suspicions about him on him.”

  “That's about it.”

  “What if he has a gun or something? Or a giant knife?”

  “Remember, we'll be with you in your apartment.”

  “Yeah, but you can't move as fast as a bullet.”

  “You're not thinking straight,” DCI Thornton said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “He's not a killer. He's a rapist.”

  “I don't fancy the idea of getting raped.”

  “You won't get raped. We'll move in before any of that happens. All we need is him trying to move onto you like that.” Thornton was convincing. How could I possibly get raped with the police in the next room?

  “What if he doesn't spill any of his secrets?”

  “Then we do it again, until he does. We'll have your place bugged for any information he may leak.”

  I was leery about this. The guy was shrewd. He'd gotten away with doing this for a while now, which meant he'd outsmarted the cops before.

  “My question is how will you get in here without him seeing you? He's obviously watched my place or is watching it. Shoot, he might even be watching me. Oh, crap. I bet he is.” Then I told him about running into him today while walking back into town.

  “Ms. West, you are our only chance right now of catching him. Don't worry about us getting inside. We can pose as the utility company, internet, or anything. Maybe your landlord wants the security double-checked. That's the easy part. Even if he asks you, just tell him the landlord is securing your place after the break-in.”

  “Okay. And you're positive I'll be safe?”

  “We'll be right in there with you.”

  “Why can’t you just grab him when he walks in if you have all this evidence?”

  “That’s just it. We don’t. We suspect it’s him, but he’s never left a shred of anything behind.”

  “Have you ever tried this before?”

  “No. You’re the first and the reason is, he’s never attempted and failed at a break-in.”

  I blew out a breath, took the plunge, and agreed. We set the date for the following Saturday. I was to call “Sam” the following Thursday and invite him over for dinner on Saturday. That would give them time to get the apartment set up. Wariness settled over me and I was sure it would stay until this mess was over.

  I left the station and entered Alessandro's address into my GPS. It was close enough to walk but I was so freaked out over my visit to the police, I was positive someone followed me there. My neck was sore from checking behind me the entire way, but when the door opened and little Gabriele's smiling face greeted me, all my worries vanished. That is until I saw the scowling expression of Alessandro. But then I laughed, because this was his son's idea and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

  Chapter Twelve

  Alessandro

  Gabriele was like a wind-up toy, running around and constantly asking me what time it was and how much longer until Ms. West would get here. I was so frustrated with the kid I wanted to tape his mouth shut. Then my father's constant chuckling nearly sent me to the liquor cabinet.

  When she finally rang the doorbell and my son and I answered, one look at my nasty expression sent her into a fit of laughter. What a fucking...

  “You must be the famous Ms. West that my grandson won't stop talking about.” I turned to see my father gloating behind me

  “I’m not sure about the famous part, but please call me Piper.” They shook hands.

  “And you must call me Antonio. Now if my rude son will remember his manners, please come inside our home.”

  Sighing, I said, “Sorry, yes, please come in. Gabriele has been counting the minutes.”

  With that, he took her hand and excitedly asked, “Ms. West, do you want to see my room?”

  “Why don't you offer Ms. West something to drink first, piccolino?” I said.

  “Ms. West, would you like something to drink first?”

  She laughed and it grated on my last nerve. How could my son possibly like this woman?

  “Nonno, isn't she pretty like I said?”

  “She certainly is.”

  Her face flushed at my father's words. She must’ve had a switch she was able to turn on and off, because that couldn't have been a natural blush. She was too spiteful for that.

  Gabriele, still holding onto her hand, took her into our kitchen and my father and I followed along. He whispered to me, “She's bellissima, Alessan
dro. Your son has good taste.”

  “Stop it, Papa. He doesn't need encouragement,” I growled. My father only chuckled.

  “Papa, Papa, Ms. West wants water.”

  “Hold on a minute and I'll pour her some.” He was holding a bottle of sparkling water, and I was afraid he'd spill it on her. On second thought, I should've let him pour it.

  She sat at the table, looking very prim and proper, and for no particular reason, I glanced at her mouth. Full, pink lips were as luscious as I remembered and why did she have to be so fucking beautiful? Why couldn't the woman look like an old hag? I knew what a sharp tongue she had hidden behind those perfect lips of hers and how it could cut you in half if she desired. Wicked was what she was.

  She smiled her thanks.

  Gabriele asked, “Are you finished yet? Do you want to play football now?”

  “Yes, let's go.” I watched her stand and ogled her fine, lush ass. And then I made the mistake of glancing at her breasts. God, she was a beauty.

  “Papa, are you coming?”

  “No, you two go on.” Maybe she'd break a leg and wouldn't be able to come back. Wait, that would be terrible. Gabriele would want to go over there every day to visit. Never mind that.

  The two of them walked hand-in-hand out the back door and soon were kicking the ball around. She wasn't half bad. I watched her with a keen eye. Okay, if I were honest, it was her ass my eyes were glued to, which was perfectly rounded for the palms of my hands to fit around.

  “She looks pretty good, yes?”

  I jerked at my father's words. “I wouldn't know. I was watching Gabriele.”

  “Sure you were. That’s why your upper lip is perspiring.”

  I slashed my hand across my face. “It's not.”

  “You are a terrible liar, Alessandro, and you always were. Why don't you go out there and talk to her?”

  “I can't. We cannot cross the professor-student line.”

  Papa threw his arms up in the air. “Bah, you are the most stubborn, foolish man I've ever known. Talking to her is not crossing any lines. Just because you’re a professor does not mean you cannot speak to any women. That’s ridiculous. I didn't say to go out there and kiss her, although if I were you, that's what I would do.” He stomped out the back door and joined the two of them. Seemed like I was the only one who wasn't having a good time and it was all because of her. Not only had she invaded my dreams, now she had invaded my home, unwanted, and uninvited. Okay, maybe she was invited, but not by me and I absolutely did not want or need her here.

  My stance by the window didn't change until they all traipsed inside to get some water. Gabriele was giggling up a storm as he told his nonno that a girl could beat him.

  “Your nonno's very good, Gabriele. You should take lessons from him on how he uses both of his feet,” Piper said.

  “Aha, she’s right. When you use both feet you trick your opponent more often.”

  Gabriele laughed. “But Nonno, you haven't played in a long time.”

  “That is true, but those skills are always useful and you never forget them.”

  “He's right, Gabriele. You should try it.” Then she ruffled the top of his head. As she did, her eyes lifted to see me watching her. She smirked, asking, “And what do you have to say, Professor? I'm sure your soccer skills are stellar.” She was challenging me.

  “It's football, not soccer. When in Rome...” My voice trailed off.

  “Yes, that's right. My bad. Football. But you never answered me.” Her brows rose, but it only accentuated her high cheekbones and the rosiness of the flesh over them. I suddenly had a flashback of the way her slick skin had felt under my fingertips when I'd touched her in the most intimate of places. When had it become so hot in here? I tugged at the collar of my sweater.

  “Alessandro, are you all right? You look a bit flushed. You're not getting ill, are you?”

  “No, Papa, I'm fine,” I barked.

  He laughed. My father laughed at me.

  “Nonno, what's so funny?”

  “Nothing, my little one. Come on, let's have some more water and you can listen to the pretty Ms. West tell you more about your football skills.”

  I huffed out an exasperated breath and left the room. I wished one of my close friends were here to cheer me up. Only none of them happened to live here, dammit. I did have one colleague that I knew, but he had gone to London to present at a conference on the merging of psychology and mathematics in literature. I thought he was insane. He usually gave a good argument, but I couldn’t follow his lead on the mathematics path this time. Yes, everything had equations involved, but why be so damned analytical to that degree about it? His argument was that I was analytical to the artistic level, why shouldn't I be argumentative to the true mathematical level? Because it took all the fun out of it, that's why. The truth was, I didn't understand it down to its elemental level. We'd debated this long into the nights over glasses of scotch and never came to agreements. Afterward, we'd laugh. But now I could use that mathematical genius. He would help me figure out this dilemma I had. Knowing him as well as I did, he'd most likely tell me to fuck her and get her out of my system. But she'd probably find a way to sever my dick off with her vagina.

  Cristo, I sure knew how to pick them. Try to be nice to someone by handing them some tissues and look what happened.

  Gabriele barreled into me and asked, “Papa, Papa, can Ms. West stay for dinner tonight? And we can make her noodles and clams?”

  “Linguine and clams, goofball.”

  “I thought I was supposed to speak English.”

  “True, but it's fine to say the kind of pasta we eat in Italian.”

  “Can we eat linguine and clams?”

  “No, because we don't have any clams.” He was not deterred.

  “What about scaloppine? Can you make that? Or Nonno?”

  Both my father and I could cook up a storm. My grandmother taught me how to make just about everything, excluding bread, just as she'd taught my father. The last thing I wanted was to have Piper stay for dinner though.

  “Please, Papa.” He wiggled his legs like he had to go to the bathroom. It was impossible to say no. “MS. WESTTTT!”

  “Gabriele! Don't yell like that.”

  Piper and Papa came running into the room.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  He dashed over to her and asked, “Can you stay for dinner? Papa is making scaloppine!”

  “That sounds wonderful, but I'm afraid I have to go. Maybe some other time.”

  My son was crushed. He slung his arms around her hips and asked, “Why can't you stay?”

  “I just can't. I'm so sorry.”

  “Don't you like it here? Don't you like me?”

  “Actually, I adore you and like it here very much. But it's getting late so I must be getting home.” She craned her neck and looked out the window. “In fact, if I don't leave right away, it will be dark soon.”

  “Are you afraid of the dark?” Gabriele asked.

  “Not exactly.”

  Then I remembered about her house getting broken into so maybe she wanted to get home before dark because of that. “Gabriele, you heard Ms. West. She can come back another time for dinner.”

  “When?”

  “How about next Saturday?” I suggested.

  “That won't work. What about Sunday?”

  “Yes. I'll be here. Won't I, Papa?”

  “Yes, you will. Next Sunday it is.” That would work and maybe I'd invite others for reinforcements. But then I wondered why she couldn't come Saturday. She probably had a date with that wimpy guy I saw her with the other day. Wait. What did I care about that? She should have a date. Lots of dates. That way she would stop coming around here and pestering us.

  “Goodbye Ms. West. I'll miss you.”

  “I'll miss you too.”

  She waved as she left. I'll break her in two if she hurts a single hair on my son's head. He's been through far too much already to go through a
nything else. I frowned at her when she glanced at me. That's right, lady. Get it through your head I'm not happy about this at all.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Piper

  It was an easy thing to do to get Sam over for dinner on Saturday night, and an even easier thing for the police to bug my apartment. At five-thirty that evening, they came in through the back and finished getting everything ready while I made dinner preparations.

  At seven on the dot, my doorbell rang and there was Sam with his not-so-boyish grin. Now that I inspected it more closely, it was sinister.

  “Howdy, Piper girl. So what's for dinner tonight?”

  “I've got a huge tray of lasagna in the oven. Lasagna American-style. It's going to make you homesick.”

  He rubbed his palms together, playing the part to a tee. “Sounds delish. I'm not much of a cook so you could've fed me anything and I would've eaten it.”

  I went to the kitchen to grab the plates for the table. “Good to know for our future dinners,” I called out.

  After I set the table, I asked him if he wanted red or white.

  “What?”

  “Wine? Red or white?”

  “What are you having?”

  “Red.”

  “Make it red for me too.”

  I didn't waste money on good wine, so I poured him a glass of the cheap stuff I'd bought. Not that I was a wine snob, but this stuff was awful. It was hard pretending I liked it.

  “So, what's new with Sam?”

  He shrugged. “Not much.”

  “I just took the lasagna out so we'll be eating in about fifteen minutes. Do you like salad?”

  “Of course. Who doesn't?”

  “My little sister. She hates it.”

  He laughed. “I'd love to meet your family. Are they coming to visit you?”

  “I doubt it. My little sister is in school and my older sister has baby twins. Kind of hard to travel under those circumstances.”

  He pulled out his phone and texted someone. I went into the kitchen and grabbed the tray of lasagna and set it on the table. Then I went back for the salads. When I came back to the coffee table to grab my wine and tell him dinner was served, I noticed I had a text.