"It's not a mess." Lucinda eyed the room. "Well, okay. Things look messy, but I haven't had the chance to clean up."
"You made a mess," Joe repeated, as if he were the King of Kitchen Cleanliness, "and you sat there and let me think you'd cut yourself, and all the time you knew it was nothing but a joke?"
Her smile faded. "My cooking is not a joke, Mr. Romano."
"A matter of opinion, Ms. Barry." Joe smiled thinly. "By the way, when did we revert back to formal address?"
"I thought it would be a good idea, now that we've agreed I'm to be your cook for the balance of the month."
"Ah. I see. You believe in getting into a part, is that right?"
Lucinda's gaze narrowed. His voice had gone cold, and there was a look about him that made her uneasy.
"Yes," she said, "yes, I do."
His smile was thin with undertones of danger. It sent her heart up into her throat.
"We also agreed that you would pretend to be my fiancée."
"I fail to see what that has to do with the present situation." He failed to see it, either. All he knew was that this woman had, from the looks of it, almost burned his house down a second time, that she'd whipped up something inedible and expected him to get excited about it-and that she'd almost given him heart failure when he'd come running into the room, thinking she was hurt.
And then there was that swift, exciting taste of her flesh, when she'd put the tip of her finger to his mouth.
Joe took a slow step forward.
"It has everything to do with it," he said softly.
"It doesn't." Why was he looking at her that way? "There's no connection at all."
"There is." He moved closer. "You said you liked to get into a part."
"I didn't say that." Lucinda swallowed dryly. She wanted to put some distance between them but there was no place to go, not with the counter at her back. "Not exactly."
Joe reached out, put a hand on the counter on either side of her. "What did you say, exactly, Ms. Barry?"
"I said..." She caught her breath as he bent his head to hers and nuzzled the hair back from her ear. "What-what are you doing?"
"Smelling you." His voice was low and rough. The sound of it sent a tremor up her spine. "I like the way you smell, Lucy."
"My name is Lucinda."
"Lucy suits you." It did; how come he'd only just noticed that? "Mmm. What is that scent?"
"It's-it's vanilla. Or chocolate. Or-"
"It's flowers." Joe brushed his mouth against her throat.
"You smell like a summer garden."
"Mr. Romano--"
"Joe."
"Joe. I-I don't think this is appropriate behavior between a cook and her employer."
He laughed softly, his breath warm against her ear. "Maybe not. But it's perfect behavior between a man and his fiancée."
Lucinda shut her eyes. ''I'm not," she said in a small voice that couldn't possibly be hers. "Not your-"
"You are." His arms slid around her; he linked his fingers at the base of her spine. "That's the deal, remember? You agreed to play the part."
"Exactly. I agreed to play it, not to--"
"Shut up," Joe said gently, and his mouth closed over hers. She held back. After all, she was prepared for this. For his attempt at seducing her. Hadn't she thought it through, just this morning? Hadn't she told herself this was going to happen?
Of course, she had. So she held back. She told herself the kiss was meaningless. That it was, as he'd already made clear, simply part of a game.
But his mouth was so hot on hers. His teeth so sweetly sharp as they nipped at her bottom lip. His arms so strong, his body so hard...
"Lucy," he whispered, "kiss me back." And she did.
She heard someone-could it be her?-make a sound that was half sigh, half acquiescent moan. She heard Joe's groaned response. And then she stopped thinking and she opened her mouth to his kiss.
He felt her surrender, and the thrill of it dazzled him. He wanted her now, with a ferocity he knew he'd never quench with a thousand cold showers. He could feel his blood pounding in his veins and he wanted to slow down, slow down, to undress her, to touch her, to watch her eyes as he brought her to the edge and kept her there.
Go slowly, he thought, but he was already pulling her arms free of the sleeves of the jacket. Slowly, he told himself, but his hands were undoing the zipper at the back of her dress.
Slowly, dammit, he almost whispered, but she was moaning his name, twisting in his arms, lifting her face to his...
"Lucy," he whispered.
He slipped his hands inside the dress, cupped her breasts.
He heard the catch of her breath as his thumbs moved gently against the raised crests.
"Lucy," he said again, as if her name were the only word he could manage. It was the only word he could manage. He slid his hands down her spine, under her panties, and cupped her bottom, lifted her into his erection.
"Please," she sobbed, "oh, please. Please, Joe, please..."
There was a sweetness in her desperation. For one timeless moment, as he swallowed her cries, as he caressed her, Joe let himself imagine he was the first, the only lover she'd ever known. The fantasy rocketed through him, blasting its way from the top of his head to his toes.
But that was all it was. A fantasy. And it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but what he was feeling, what he was making her feel.
He kissed her again, his tongue delving deep into the sweetness of her mouth as his fingers slid into the sweetness of her body. Instantly, she cried out; her head fell back and he watched her as she rode the crest of the wave.
He needed her, now. Right now, and he swept her up into his arms.
"Hold on to me," he said roughly, and she pressed her face to his chest, her open mouth against his sweat-soaked shirt, her teeth nipping lightly at his skin as he carried her up the stairs, towards the moment he'd hungered for ever since she'd come into his life, the moment when he was deep inside her and her legs were locked around him.
Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang. Had been ringing, he realized, for a while.
Lucy stiffened in his arms. "Joe?"
"It's the doorbell," he said, and kissed her. "It's all right. We won't ans-"
The front door swung open, hit the wall with a bang. Joe swung around, Lucy still in his arms, and looked down the steps. He saw a clutch of mylar balloons that said Happy Birthday and Congratulations, a huge bouquet of flowers and a magnum of champagne--and two shocked faces, staring back.
"Surprise," his brother said, and grinned.
"Surprise," his sister-in-law said, and blushed.
"Oh, hell," Joe said, and groaned.
The only one who shrieked was Lucy.
CHAPTER NINE
THE little group froze, Matthew and his wife at the door, Joe and Lucy on the steps.
No one spoke.
No one even took a breath. Everyone waited.
Joe was still holding Lucy in his arms. He knew this moment would be engraved on the interior of his skull forever. His brother, with a grin starting to tilt at his mouth. His sister-in- law, her cheeks turning crimson. And Lucy in his arms, her heart galloping.
She was going to bolt like a frightened rabbit. He knew it.
And he couldn't blame her. If the stairwell suddenly decided to swallow him whole, he'd have died happy.
But that wasn't about to happen, and running away wasn't the answer. It would only make things worse--he could see the devilment growing in Matt's eyes.
Joe put his mouth against Lucy's ear. "Easy," he murmured.
Easy? Lucy thought in disbelief. She was wrapped around the hated Joe Romano like a vine around a fence post. And he was telling her to take it easy?
Lucy pushed against his chest. "Put me down."
"I will. Just let me handle this, okay?"
His voice was low. She knew only she could hear it, that the goggle-eyed man and woman standing just inside the door probably thought h
e was whispering words meant to soothe her. But the look in Joe's eyes was anything but soothing. It was a cold warning, telling her that he was in charge here.
"Put me down, Romano," Lucy said again.
A muscle knotted in his jaw but he did as she'd asked, setting her on her feet, wrapping his hand around her wrist so that his fingers felt like a steel bracelet. He stepped in front of her and she thought, for one wild moment, how wonderful it would be if the action were really protective. It wasn't, of course; she knew that. He was just making sure she didn't say, or do, anything.
He had nothing to worry about. She couldn't think of anything that wouldn't make things worse than they already were. All she could do was hope that this wouldn't take too long, that she'd be able to go to her room, straighten her clothes and get out of this madhouse as fast as possible.
"We seem to have guests," Joe said. "Lucy, this is my brother, Matthew."
Matthew Romano grinned up at them. "Nice to meet you."
"And his wife, Susannah."
Susannah's blush deepened. "Hi."
Lucy searched frantically for an appropriate response. Her mother had spent years drumming what she'd called "deportment" into her head. She knew what to say to a grieving widow, to an elderly maiden aunt, to an unwanted suitor, but what on earth did you say to a pair of strangers who'd caught you-who'd caught you...
"Hello," she said faintly. It seemed to be the right choice.
Matthew Romano's grin widened, and the bright color in his wife's face seemed to lessen the slightest bit.
"I thought you two were in New York," Joe said.
"We were." Matt slipped his arm around his wife's waist. "But we got a call from the magazine." He looked at Lucy. "My wife's newest endeavor. It's gonna be terrific, if we can get all the distribution kinks ironed out."
"I don't think Lucy's interested in our problems with TEMPO right now," Susannah said, so pleasantly that it almost looked as if the elbow she dug into her husband's ribs was accidental. "We're-we're so sorry about this. We had no idea ... "
"We rang the bell. Several times, in fact." This time, Mattthew's grin was downright wicked. "I can't imagine why you didn't hear it."
Susannah shot him an icy look. "I told Matthew not to barge right in, but-"
"But the door wasn't locked. So, here we are."
"Yes," Joe said, "here you are."
"Well." Susannah cleared her throat. "Look, we can come back later, when you, uh, when you and, uh, and-"
"Lucy. My, ah, my new cook."
Matthew's eyebrows shot towards his hairline. "That's not the way we hear it, pal."
Joe felt his heart plummet towards his feet. "You spoke with Nonna?"
"Uh-huh." Matt tugged on the string of one of the balloons. "That's how we heard that congratulations were in order."
"Yes," Susannah said brightly. "What lovely news, Lucy."
"News?" Lucy parroted.
"About you and Joe being engaged. It must have been very sudden."
"Very," Joe said. His fingers tightened around Lucy's wrist.
"Isn't that right, honey?"
"No," Lucy said, "no, it-"
"She's right. It wasn't all that sudden." Joe cleared his throat. "I mean, it seems that way but, ah, but we knew, the minute we met, how it was between us."
"Oh," Susannah said, and sighed, "that's so romantic. Matthew? Do you remember when we fell in love? That weekend in Paris-"
"We fell in lust in, Paris," Matthew said, but his heart was there, for all the world to see, in the smile he gave his wife.
"He's such a tease," Susannah said gently, and smiled, as well. "What I meant is, it's amazing how quickly these things can happen."
"Lust?" Matthew said politely.
"Love," his wife replied, ignoring him. "Just look at you two. Strangers, a couple of day ago, and now you're engaged to be married!"
"That's just the point," Lucy said quickly. "We're not-"
"It's okay, honey." Joe's fingers tightened in warning again. "Now that Nonna's let the cat out of the bag, we might as well admit it." He gave Lucy a quick look. She'd managed to tug down her dress and close her jacket. The buttons were in the wrong holes, but who cared? He flashed her a big smile, slid his arm around her shoulders, and drew her down the steps with him. "It's true. We're engaged."
Susannah sighed. "How lovely."
"How sudden." Matthew's teeth glinted in a quick smile. "You didn't say a word yesterday morning when we spoke."
"I hadn't popped the question yet." Joe said.
"Seems to me you hadn't met, either."
The brothers looked at each other. "Your timeline must be wrong," Joe finally said.
Matthew raised his eyebrows. "Must be," he said lazily. "Anyway, once we heard the news, we figured we'd stop by and help you celebrate."
"I said we should have called," Susannah hissed.
"No," Joe said with a forced smile, "not at all. It's great, seeing you guys."
"Well," Susanna said after a pause, "tell us everything. Where did you meet? And when? Have you set a date for your wedding? We're dying for all the details."
"There aren't any de-"
"It's too soon for details," Joe said before Lucy could finish the sentence. "That's what she means. Isn't that right, honey?"
Lucy glared at him. "I meant what I said, Romano. Actually-"
"Actually, we're still debating things." Joe pulled Lucy close and kissed her. "Big wedding, small wedding. Evening or afternoon. That kind of thing, you know?"
Matthew nodded. "Oh, yeah. I know."
Susannah looked at her husband. "I thought you liked our wedding."
"I did," Matthew said quickly. "Of course, I did."
"Well, that's not how you sounded."
"But that's what I meant," Matthew replied even more quickly. "Listen, why don't we clear out so you two can, uh, can do whatever you were going to do. I mean, uh, what about having dinner together?"
"No," Lucy said.
"Great," Joe said. "Tonight. The club. Drinks at seven?"
"Seven's fine." Matthew drew his wife closer. "Okay, sweetheart?' '
"You told me you liked all the plans I made for our wedding, Matthew. You said-"
Matthew rolled his eyes, turned Susannah towards the door.
"See you later," he called over his shoulder.
"Later," Joe said cheerfully. The door swung shut.
Joe let go of Lucy, hurried to the door, locked it, leaned back against it and blew out his breath.
"Hot damn," he said, and shut his eyes.
"Hot damn, is right. How could you, Romano?"
Joe swung around and looked at Lucy. Her jacket was still buttoned wrong, her hair was hanging in her eyes, her cheeks were pink and her mouth was softly swollen. She looked like a woman who'd been doing exactly what she had been doing before they were interrupted-but her words rang with indignation.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said, how could you? Lie that way, I mean. To your brother. To his wife. Letting them think we're engaged..." She took a deep breath and slapped her hands on her hips. "How could you?"
"What would you have preferred I tell them?"
"The truth, of course."
"The truth," Joe said coolly. He stuck his hands in his pockets. "Sure. Why not? I should have said, well, we met yesterday. Or you might say we met Friday night. We didn't like each other terribly much, but yeah, we couldn't keep our hands off each other." His mouth twisted. "Is that the 'truth' you wanted me to drop on my brother and his wife?"
Her color deepened. Did he have to put it so bluntly? "Everything is accurate except the last part." Her eyes flashed. "But that last part is incorrect. I'm not the one's having a problem with my hands, Romano."
Joe thought about pointing out that it was she who'd been begging him to take her when Matt and Susannah had come bursting in, but why bother? She was back to being a Boston Ice Queen.
Which was the real Lucinda Barry? Was sh
e the world's greatest actress, or could she turn on and off as fast as a light bulb?
Not that it mattered. Thanks to his brother's unscheduled appearance, Joe could damned near feel his hormones scuttling back into place.
Sex was great-but sanity was better.
A man could always find a woman to bed, but finding your mind after you lost it was a different matter entirely. And he'd definitely gone 'round the bend there, 'round several bends, or so it would seem, coming on to Lucy with all the subtlety of a moose on the loose.
He wasn't blameless, but the fault was mostly hers.
Even dressed in that wacky cook's outfit, she was a woman who could drive a man crazy. Surprise, surprise, he thought grimly. Hell, that was her profession. It was her specialty. She drove men nuts, for a living.
That was why he'd lost control, because she was good at what she did.
Damned good.
Wanting her was axiomatic. It had nothing to do with the soft, warm feel of her in his arms. With her tasting like milk and honey against his tongue. With the way she trembled when he touched her, and whispered his name, as if no man had ever made her feel these things before ...
Hell, Joe thought, and scowled darkly.
"Go upstairs, fix your hair, change your clothes."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I said-"
"I heard what you said, Romano. What makes you think you can keep giving me orders?"
Joe looked her up and down. His eyes met hers.
"The fact that I'm the man who has to be seen with you at my club tonight," he said politely. "Any other questions?"
"You've got to be joking! If you really think I'm going to play this game-"
"I don't think it, Blondie, I know it."
Lucy flushed. "I told you not to call me that!"
"And I told you to get out of that ridiculous get-up!"
"No." She folded her arms, angled her chin upward. "This has gone far enough. I should never have agreed to help you torment your poor, sweet old grandmother."
Joe laughed.
Lucy gritted her teeth.
"My poor, sweet old grandmother, huh?"
"Yes."
"I don't recall twisting your arm to get you to go along with me."
"Never mind that. You had the chance to tell your brother the truth, and you didn't."
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