Ten Brides for Ten Hot Guys

by Donna Fasano

  I laughed. “Right.” But the girls shot me a look. He was kidding, wasn’t he?

  We pulled up at a place I’d never been to, but had heard of, of course. Casa Leone’s was an upscale Italian restaurant, hidden behind a rock wall and high, dense foliage. It was like something you’d expect on the Italian Riviera, yet it was only a few steps away from the nightlife of South Beach.

  As the girls and I oohed and aahed at the romantic setting, Jake embraced a man who’d come to greet him and called him son. Obviously, Jake was very at home here, and that surprised me. I’d known Jake for ten years and yet I knew so little about him.

  We sat on the terrace and before Jake could order, the waiter brought over a bottle of what looked like very fine wine.

  “The best in the house,” the sommelier said, opening the bottle with a flourish and pouring a sip for Jake. He stood back, white napkin folded over his arm, and smiled expectantly. “Tell me what you think.”

  Jake winked at me. “Give Candy a taste. She’ll let you know.”

  I took a swirl, rolled it around my mouth, let it sit on my tongue, and then swallowed.

  “Oh, yum. It’s divine.”

  The waiter poured a little into all the glasses and when he left, I turned to Jake and whispered, “I’m paying for dinner but I don’t know if I can afford this.”

  He laughed, and rolled the wine around his glass. “Relax. My mother owns the place. It won’t cost a penny.”

  “No way.” My eyes widened in surprise. “Your mother owns Leone’s?”

  “Well, her fourth husband does.” He shrugged. “No need to tell you everything.”

  I punched his arm. “I always thought you had a tough time growing up. That you were neglected, or something.”

  “Maybe I was.”

  “I no longer feel sorry for you.” I tossed my head. “You kept this a secret all these years? What were you doing with me? Slumming?”

  “Slumming? You kidding me?” His knee knocked mine. “I was learning from a master.”

  Lydia had listened to our exchange. “Is your mother here? I would love to meet her.”

  “No, but her husband, Frank, comes by most nights. He likes to oversee everything and welcome his customers personally.”

  “Oh, goodie,” Fran said. “Then we’ll get to meet him.”

  Susie leaned back in the chair, and surveyed the pretty courtyard, taking in everything at once. “How come you didn’t go into the restaurant business?” she asked Jake. “You’d have been great at it. With your charm…good looks…and your way with women…”

  “What? Is there something wrong with being the “hot” bartender at the Candy Bar? Just think. If I’d managed this place, I’d never have met any of you.”

  I hugged him. “I can’t imagine the bar without you. And I never want to.” I touched the rim of my glass to his. “If and when I sold the place, I was going to put a provision in for you. No way was I going to sell you short. Either a guarantee that you’d keep your job, or get a very nice severance.” I grinned. “Now, it doesn’t look like I have to.”

  He chuckled. “Just because my mother married well, doesn’t mean that I’m rolling in dough. I still like working at the bar. Beside you.” He lifted his wineglass and toasted all of us. “To great friendships, and more good times.”

  We all drank to that.

  Soft music flowed through the courtyard, and a bright full moon appeared. It was a beautiful, magical night, and I made a little wish on the stars that everything would work out, and good fortune would smile upon us.

  Chapter 22

  When I got home late that night, I checked my messages and there were several from Harrison. I thought about deleting them unread, but being a woman, I couldn’t do that.

  Heck, I wanted to know why he’d left without calling and whether or not I’d ever see him again. A girl should know where she stands, shouldn’t she? Even if it’s with her son’s prospective father-in-law.

  Before I opened the text, I brushed my teeth, flossed, washed and creamed my face, then slipped into a cool nylon nighty covered in hearts. I turned on the table lamp and picked up my phone. Message four, left six hours ago, read, “Candy? Why haven’t you answered your phone? I’ve called and left several messages.”

  Yeah—so what? I was busy wasn’t I, canvassing the neighborhood, fighting crime. I’m not just a pretty face—I’m an ambassador for justice.

  Perhaps I’d text him that. But I needed to read the others.

  Message three—four hours ago. “Okay, I get it. You’re mad at me for leaving and not saying good-bye. That’s because I’m not saying good-bye. Call me.”

  I would—just not yet. I still wanted to know why he’d left in such a damned hurry.

  Text two—“I was called away because someone was murdered, and they want me to be the lead prosecutor. Now are you satisfied?”

  Why in the world would I be satisfied if someone got murdered? I’m just not that kind of girl.

  And the last text was in all-caps, “CALL ME. I’M TOO BUSY TO PLAY GAMES.”

  That was short and sweet. Well, I’d been too busy to call earlier, and now it was too late. I’d put him on my agenda first thing in the morning.

  I turned off my phone, then the light, and closed my eyes. Harrison loomed over me in the dark, his handsome face angry. I could see the frustration building; his firm jaw clenched, a small tick in the side of his cheek, face turning different shades of red.

  I wished I could reach out and touch him, kiss his lips and soothe his worries. But I didn’t have any more answers for him than I had for myself.

  Still, I turned the light back on and texted, “Good night, Harrison, sleep tight.”

  Feeling better, I slid back under the covers and fell into a deep but troubled sleep.

  The following morning I made coffee in my thrifty-nifty, two-cup machine, and while I waited for it to finish its job, I called.

  Harrison answered right away. “Candy. I got your message last night. I was glad to hear from you.”

  I got a tingly feeling hearing the rich timber of his voice.

  “It was late, Har, so I didn’t call.” I quickly told him about the Neighborhood Watch and how the girls and I had spent our day. I also told him Jake’s big surprise.

  “You were out with Jake all night?”

  I could hear the suspicion in his voice, which perked me right up. Who needed caffeine when a little taste of jealousy would do? “Why, yes. And with the girls.”

  He made an exasperated sound. “So Jake’s got a lot of money, does he? Why did he let you arrange bail, that being the case?”

  “I have no idea. I’ll have to ask him that when I see him.” A thought occurred to me. “Maybe he’s broke. His family has money, but that doesn’t mean he does. He never talks about his mother, or anyone else. Maybe they had a falling out.”

  “Then how could he afford the splashy limousine? And why would he take you to her restaurant?” Harrison demanded.

  “Good question. I’ll ask him that too,” I said brightly. I just loved irritating him so. Maybe that’s why I’m still single—I have a niggling urge to rattle people—men in particular.

  “Can we not talk about Jake?” Harrison growled.

  “Sure. But just one more thing, and then not another word. I promise.”

  “What now?”

  “I just wanted to say that Jake is coming over here later and will be helping us hand out fliers and anything else we need him to do. Isn’t that nice?” I said sweetly.

  “Very nice,” he said dryly. “Tell him I said “hello,” won’t you?”

  “Sure. Anything besides, “hello?” No?” I smelled the coffee, and tried to grab a cup and pour with one hand. Splashed some on the counter and my hand. “Damn!” I muttered. “Spilled my coffee.” I probably deserved it for teasing Harrison so relentlessly.

  “Take your time. Pour another one.”

  “It’s okay. I will in a minute.” I swiped a
t the mess with a paper towel, smearing the counter rather than cleaning it. “So, I guess if you’re the lead on a murder trial, you’ll be flat-out busy for awhile. No more trips to Florida, right?”

  “I might be able to squeeze in a weekend or two over the next month.”

  “Naw.” Okay, so maybe I was doing my typical self-sabotage. I said, “You’ll be busy. Gotta save some guy’s life.”

  “Woman. A young woman killed some guy that was supposedly beating her. She had a restriction order against him, but he was found dead in his own apartment. She went after him with a butcher knife while he was sleeping.”

  I felt my brows hike in surprise. “Oh my! Guess that does make her guilty, even if the creep deserved what he got.”

  “My job is to prove she’s a cold-blooded murderer.” His voice dropped as if he were letting me in on a secret. “But I’m telling you, that if it were my daughter or my wife, I’d want her to kill the son-of-a-bitch too.”

  “Then why aren’t you defending her, instead of prosecuting?”

  “She has a defense team, and if they do their job properly, they will prove me wrong. Remember, in our justice system a person’s innocent until proven guilty. The onus will be on me to prove it wasn’t self defense--that she went to his house and murdered him while he slept.”

  “Crap.” I jammed my thumbnail to my lower lip and gave it a tap. I’d hate to be in his shoes. If I was imagining Katie in that position, he had to have been up all night. “That sucks. I’d probably want to see her walk away free. Big bully, had no right beating her and stalking her.”

  “I know. I can’t allow my personal feelings to interfere with the legal process. She deserves the best legal defense her attorney’s can give her. The burden of proof is on me.” He cleared his throat. “But enough about that. I’m glad to hear that you’re organizing this Neighborhood Watch. I feel better knowing that the police will be involved. These racketeers will hopefully back off.”

  I felt a dark cloud take up residence in my kitchen. “I hope you’re right.”

  Harrison paused. “Let’s talk about something more pleasant. Like today.” He spoke warmly. “Katie called me to say that she really enjoyed your dinner last night, and likes you a lot.”

  Pleased, I leaned against the counter. “Wow. That’s nice. I like her too.”

  “So,” he said slowly, “once you get a handle on things and the Candy Bar is back up and running, maybe you could come visit me here in Boston. I’d love to take you sailing.”

  Oh, the thought of that made my insides ache. It sounded so wonderful, and yet so impossible that tears came into my eyes.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know why. There are just too many problems. Too many things keeping us apart.” Katie, Billy, his thriving business, my lack of one.

  “Yeah, well one of them can be solved with an airplane ride.”

  Chuckling, I said, “Distance is one of the smaller reasons on the list.”

  “Look,” he said in a brisk tone. I imagined him clearing his desk for the next phone call. “Let’s shelve this discussion for now. You have things to do, and so do I. But this is not over between us. Not by a long shot.”

  “Well, we will see about that. But as you say, we both have more important issues to worry about.” I sucked in a quick, painful breath, knowing it was time to cut him free. “You take care of yourself, Har. I’m going to miss you.”

  “Back at you. You need protection right now, and I wish I could be at your side—not Jake,” he added with a touch of bitterness.

  “Jake’s a friend. A really wonderful, handsome, close friend,” I added with a teasing laugh, “and rich.”

  “If I were there right now, I’d take you over my knee and spank you like that guy did in that best-selling book.”

  “Whoa,” I said, my interest piqued. “Harrison--how do you know about that?”

  “Every girl in the office was talking about it. How could I not hear?”

  “Well, there’ll be no spanking for me.” I smiled. “Bye, Harrison. Save the girl—don’t send her down the river or whatever you do.”

  “People can’t take the law into their own hands,” he said sternly. “Remember that.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m a crusader for justice, and if a thug wants to come after me, he’ll get what’s coming.” I took up a fighter stance, and practiced a boxer’s move.

  “This isn’t a joke, Candy. You leave these fellows to the law enforcement. I love that you’re involved, but there are rules for a reason.”

  “I hear you. I was only mouthing off. Don’t worry about me, okay? You have enough problems.”

  “I’ll call you again in a few days. Stay safe, and don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Oh, that’s a nice thing to say.” I got another paper towel and swiped at the drying mess. Talking to Harrison was getting me agitated. I wanted him with me, dammit!

  “You know what I meant.”

  “Yeah. That I’m stupid.” Wipe, wipe, gone. If only my love-life were so simple.

  “Candy…”

  “Good-bye, Harrison.” I hung up, and poured my first full cup of coffee. Now I really needed the caffeine.

  For the rest of the morning I felt unsettled, wishing I hadn’t had that ridiculous conversation with Harrison. As much as I pretended otherwise, I’d allowed him to get under my skin, and worm his way into my heart.

  Why do I always fall for the men I can’t have—especially when I have someone like Jake close by, and confessing that he’s always had a thing for me?

  Instead, I’m panting after a guy that lives hundreds of miles away, has a career that he can’t possibly leave, and likes me well enough in bed, but knows we don’t have a future together. Heck, my own son has forbidden me to see him.

  Meanwhile, Jake is available, interested, sweet, honest, and physically top dollar. Hell, if I decided that he was the one for me, I’d be the luckiest woman on earth.

  Maybe—for once in my life—I could allow myself to love a man who would be good for me.

  Chapter 23

  It seemed as if my thought conjured Jake up because it was only a mere ten minutes later that he knocked on my door.

  I quickly sprayed on some delicate, expensive perfume, ran a brush through my hair, and touched my lips with a pink gloss. After all, I’m not a complete moron, and I know that I’m tired of being alone. I wanted and deserved a wonderful man in my life. If Harrison can’t be that man, then the least I could do was open myself to the possibility that Jake might fit the bill.

  “Hey,” I said, opening the door to let him enter. “Come on in. I’ve been talking to the girls and they’re going to join us at the Candy Bar in half an hour.”

  “Fine. We’re going to canvass the neighborhood for more participants, right? Hand out fliers, place them in store windows, that kind of thing?”

  “You got it. Thirty or so have signed up so far, but we’re going to need a lot more than that to make an impact and get the police to take notice.” I smiled at Jake—not a difficult chore. “And you, my dear friend, will use your considerable charm and convince people that we can make a difference and get crime off our street.”

  “You got it,” he said with an agreeable smile.

  I took his arm and pulled him into the room. “Want some coffee?”

  He nodded and followed me into the kitchen. “Black.”

  I poured it and refilled mine.

  He took a sip, and then another. “Good coffee.”

  “I also make good toast,” I said with a grin.

  “Is that an offer?”

  “You hungry? I could add bacon and eggs to that.”

  “Naw. I had a big bowl of Cheerios.” He sipped again. “So, back to this nasty business at hand.” He leaned against the counter, and crossed his ankles. “It just irks me that they think they can bully us into submission. And this false accusation about me peddling drugs…well, they’re stepping o
n the wrong guy.”

  “Exactly. This is our street. It belongs to us and we’re taking it back.”

  “I like that line. Mind if I use it?”

  “Of course not.” I stepped away from the kitchen and opened up the patio doors. “Come. Let’s sit down and enjoy our coffee. We have a few minutes before we have to leave.”

  He followed me out and I settled into one of the cushioned wicker chairs, and put the coffee cup on a small table.

  “You know something? I don’t think we’ve ever really had a private conversation. Every exchange we’ve ever made is either at the bar, or about the bar, and usually surrounded by a horde of people. I’d like to get to know you, Jake.”

  His bright blue eyes looked hopeful. “Good. I’m an open book.” Instead of sitting, he leaned his arms over the railing and looked out at the beach. It was a warm day, and as always sunbathers were catching a few rays, kayakers and surfers were riding the waves, and walkers strolled along the beach.

  I’ve always loved the activity outside my door, and the peace and serenity of the lapping waves and excellent view. Jake, standing at the rail, only enhanced the beauty.

  He took it all in, then turned his head and gave me a long look. “You have a great place here. Is this where you raised Billy?”

  “For the most part. We moved here about a year after you started working at the bar. Once we had a nice profit going—thanks to you—I got out of the dingy area I’d been renting and bought this apartment.”

  “Not thanks to me. You’re the one who made your bar the huge success it became. I just went along for the ride.”

  “I’m glad you did.” Getting serious for a moment, I asked, “What are we going to do if those racketeers don’t leave us alone? I don’t want them to drive us out, and selling the place will be impossible if word gets out. We can’t fight organized crime.” I released a long breath, and my eyes clung to his. “For one thing, I no longer have the strength for it.”