The Playboy of Rome

by Jennifer Faye

  No. No. She couldn’t get distracted again. This was not a date. It was business. So why was Dante acting so strange? So kind and thoughtful?

  “Is there something I should know?” she asked, bracing herself for bad news.

  A dark brow arched. “Know about what?”

  She didn’t want to put words in his mouth, especially if they were not what she wanted to hear. “I don’t know. I just wondered about your effort to be so nice.”

  He frowned. “So now you think that I’m not nice.”

  She groaned. “That isn’t what I meant. You’re taking my words out of context.”

  “I am?” He placed a plate and glass in front of her. “Perhaps we should talk about something else, then.”

  “No. I want to know why you’re in such a good mood. Have you made up your mind about the television show?”

  Please let him say that he had a change of heart.

  His gaze lowered to the table as he took his seat. “Are you sure you know what you’re asking?”

  “Of course I do. All you have to do is fill in for your grandfather. And teach me everything you know.” Did this mean he was truly considering the idea? Were her dreams about to come true?

  “You really want to learn from me?”

  She nodded.

  The silence dragged on. Her stomach knotted and her palms grew damp. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

  “Well?” She couldn’t bear the unknown any longer. “Where does that leave us?”

  “It leaves us with a meal that’s going to get cold if we don’t get through this first course soon.”

  “But I need to know.”

  “And you will. Soon.”

  Was that a promise? It sounded like one. But what was soon in his book? She glanced down at her salad. How in the world was she supposed to eat now?

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  HE MUST HAVE lost his mind.

  That had to be it. Otherwise why would he even consider going along with this arrangement?

  Dante stared across the candlelit table at Lizzie. He noticed how she’d moved the food around on her plate, but she’d barely eaten a bite. She had to be hungry because it’d been hours since they’d stopped at the trattoria on their way back to Rome.

  And this food was really good. In fact, he had to admit that he was impressed. Maybe taking her under his wing wouldn’t be such a hardship after all. His solicitor definitely thought it was the least painless course of action. Easy for him to say.

  But the deciding factor was when the potential buyer of the ristorante had been willing to wait the two months. His solicitor said that they’d actually been quite enthusiastic about the ristorante getting international coverage.

  But what no one took into consideration was the fact that Dante was totally drawn to Lizzie. And that was a serious complication. How in the world were they to work together when all he could think about was kissing her again? He longed to wrap his arms around her and pull her close. He remembered vividly how the morning sun had glowed behind her, giving her whole appearance a golden glow. It had been an experience unlike any other. And when their lips had met—

  “Is something wrong with the food?”

  Dante blinked before meeting Lizzie’s worried gaze. He had to start thinking of her in professional terms. He supposed that if he were going to take her on as his protégée, he might as well get started. He’d teach her as much as possible within their time limit.

  “Now that you’ll be working here, there’ll be no special treatment. You’ll be expected to work just like everyone else.”

  “Understood.”

  “As for the food, the chicken is a little overcooked. You’ll need to be careful of that going forward.”

  A whole host of expressions flitted across her face. “Is there anything else?”

  It wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting. He thought she’d be ecstatic to learn that she’d be working there. And that she’d get her television spot. Women. He’d never figure them out. In his experience, they never reacted predictably.

  “And use less salt. The guest can always add more according to their taste and diet.”

  Her face filled with color. Without a word, she threw her linen napkin on the table and rushed to the kitchen.

  He groaned. He hadn’t meant to upset her. Still, how was he supposed to teach her anything if he couldn’t provide constructive criticism? His grandfather should be here. He would know what to say and how to say it.

  Dante raked his fingers through his hair. He’d agreed to this arrangement far too quickly. He should have gone with his gut that said this was going to be a monumental mistake. Now he had to fix things before the camera crew showed up. The last thing either of them needed was to start their television appearances on a bad note—with all of the world watching.

  He strode toward the kitchen and paused by the door. What did he say to her? Did he apologize even though he hadn’t said anything derogatory? Did he set a precedent that she would expect him to apologize every time she got upset when he pointed out something that she could improve on? An exasperated sigh passed his lips. He obviously wasn’t meant to be a teacher.

  He pushed the door open, prepared to find Lizzie in tears. Instead he found her scraping leftovers into the garbage and piling the dishes in the sink.

  “What are you doing?”

  She didn’t face him. “I’m cleaning up. What does it look like?”

  “But we weren’t done eating. Why don’t you come back to the table?”

  She grabbed the main dish and dumped it in the garbage. “I don’t want anything else.”

  “Would you stop?”

  “There’s no point in keeping leftovers.” With that, she grabbed the dessert.

  He knew where she was headed and stepped in her way. What in the world had gotten into her? Why was she acting this way?

  “Lizzie, put down the dessert and tell me what’s bothering you.”

  She tilted her chin to gaze up at him. “Why should something be bothering me? You tore to shreds the dinner I painstakingly prepared for you.”

  “But isn’t that what you want me to do? Teach you?”

  Her icy gaze bored into him. The temperature took an immediate dive. “Move.”

  “No. We need to finish talking.”

  “So you can continue to insult me. No, thank you.” She moved to go around him but he moved to block her.

  “Lizzie, I don’t know what it is you want from me. I thought you wanted me to teach you, but obviously that isn’t the case. So what is it you want? Or do you just want to call this whole thing off?”

  “I didn’t know we were starting the lessons right away. Or did you just say those things in hopes of me calling off the arrangement?”

  “No, that isn’t what I had in mind.” How the heck had he ended up on the defensive? He’d only meant to be helpful.

  “So you truly think I’m terrible in the kitchen?”

  He took the tray from her and set it on the counter. Then he stepped up to her, hating the emotional turmoil he saw in her eyes. He found himself longing to soothe her. But he didn’t have a clue how to accomplish such a thing. He seemed to keep making one mistake after the other where she was concerned.

  “I think that you’re very talented.” It was the truth. And he’d have said it even if he didn’t find her amazingly attractive.

  Her bewildered gaze met his. “But you said—”

  “That there were things for you to take into consideration while working here. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  Disbelief shimmered in her eyes.

  He didn’t think. He just acted, reaching out to her. His thumb stroked her cheek, enjoying its velvety softness. She stepped away from his touch and his hand lowered to his side.

  “Lizzie, you have to believe me. If you’re going to be this sensitive, how do you think we’ll be able to work together?”

  * * *

  This was all wrong.

>   Lizzie crossed her arms to keep from reaching out to him. The whole evening had gone off the rails and she had no idea how to fix things. And the worst part was that she’d overreacted. Big-time.

  She’d always prided herself on being able to contain her feelings behind a wall of indifference. And Dante wasn’t the first to criticize her skills. But he was the first whose opinion truly mattered to her on a deeply personal level. He was the first person she wanted to thoroughly impress.

  The thought brought her up short. Since when had his thoughts and feelings come to mean so much to her? Was it the kiss? Had it changed everything? Or was it opening up to him in the car? Had their heart-to-heart made her vulnerable to him?

  Panic clawed at her. She knew what happened when she let people too close and she opened up about her background. She’d been shunned most of her life. She couldn’t let Dante do that to her. She couldn’t stand the thought of him looking at her with pity while thinking that she was less than everyone else—after all, if her own parents couldn’t love her, how was anyone else supposed to?

  Not that she wanted Dante to fall in love with her. Did she? No. That was the craziest idea to cross her mind in a long time—probably her craziest idea ever.

  The walls started to close in on her. She needed space. Away from Dante. Away from his curious stare. “I need...need to make a phone call. I...I’ll clean this all up later.”

  And with that, she raced for the door. She didn’t have to call Jules, but she did need the excuse to get away from him. It was as if he had some sort of magnetic field around him and it drew out her deepest feelings. She needed to stuff them back in the little box in her heart.

  Being alone in a strange city in a country practically halfway around the world from her home made her choices quite limited. She thought of escaping back to the vineyard and visiting some more with Massimo. He was so easy to talk to. He was her friend. But he was also Dante’s grandfather. And the vineyard was Dante’s home.

  Her shoulders slumped as she headed for the apartment. What she needed now was to talk to Jules. It would be good to hear a familiar voice. She made a beeline for her room and pulled out her phone. She knew the call would cost her a small fortune but this was an emergency.

  She dialed the familiar number. The phone rang and rang. Just when she thought that it was going to switch to voice mail, she heard a familiar voice.

  “Lizzie, is that you? What’s wrong?”

  The concern in Jules’s voice had her rushing to reassure her. “I just wanted to check in.”

  “But you said that we needed to watch how much we spend on the phone. You said we should only call when something was wrong. So what happened?”

  “Nothing. I just wanted to hear your voice and make sure you are doing okay.”

  There was a slight pause. “Lizzie, this is me. You can’t lie to me. Something is bothering you. So spill it.”

  Calling Jules had been a mistake. She knew her far too well. And now Jules wasn’t going to let her off the hook. “It’s Dante. I think I just blew my chance to work with him.”

  “Why? What did you do?”

  “I...I overreacted. Instead of taking his feedback on my cooking like a professional, I acted like an oversensitive female.” Her thoughts drifted over the evening. “All I wanted to do was impress him and...and I failed.”

  “Don’t worry about him. Just come home.”

  “I can’t do that. Remember, I quit my job. And your tuition is due soon.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that. I don’t have to go to grad school.”

  “You do if you want to be a social worker and help other kids like us.” The remembrance of her promise to her foster sister put things in perspective. She couldn’t let her bruised ego get the best of her. She couldn’t walk away. “Just ignore what I said. I’m tired. Everything will work out.”

  “But, Lizzie, if he’s making things impossible for you, what are you going to do?”

  There was a knock at her bedroom door.

  “Jules, I have to go. I’ll call you later.”

  With a quick goodbye, she disconnected the call. She worried her bottom lip and waited. Maybe Dante would go away. She wasn’t ready to talk to him. Not yet.

  Again the tap at the door. “I’m not going away until we talk.”

  “I don’t have anything to say to you.”

  “But I have plenty to say to you.”

  That sparked her curiosity, but her bruised ego wasn’t ready to give in. She wanted to tell herself that his words and his opinions meant nothing. But that trip to the vineyard and that kiss in the morning sunshine had cast some sort of spell over her—over her heart.

  “Lizzie, open the door.”

  She ran a hand over her hair, finding it to be a flyaway mess. What was she doing hiding away? She was a foster kid. She knew how to take care of herself. Running and hiding wasn’t her style. She straightened her shoulders. And with a resigned sigh, she moved to the door and opened it.

  Dante stood there, slouched against the doorjamb. Much too close. Her heart thumped. Her gaze dipped to his lips. She recalled how his mouth did the most exquisite things to her and made her insides melt into a puddle. If she were to lean a little forward, they’d be nose to nose, lip to lip, breath to breath. But that couldn’t happen again. It played with her mind and her heart too much.

  With effort she drew her gaze to his eyes, which seemed to be filled with amusement.

  “See something you like?” A smile pulled at his lips and made him even sexier than the serious expression he normally wore like armor.

  “I see a man who insists he has to talk to me. What do you want?”

  He shook his head. “Not like this. Join me in the living room.”

  “I have things to do.”

  “I think this is more important. Trust me.” With that, he walked away.

  She stood there fighting off the urge to rush to catch up with him. After all, he was the one who’d ruined a perfectly amazing dinner, nitpicking over her cooking. The reminder had her straightening her spine.

  Refusing to continue to let him have the upper hand, she closed the door and rushed over to the walk-in closet to retrieve some fresh clothes that didn’t smell as if she’d been working in the kitchen for hours. She wished she had time for a shower, but she didn’t want to press her luck.

  With a fresh pair of snug black jean capris and a black sheer blouse that she knotted at her belly button, she entered the en suite bathroom that was almost as big as her bedroom. She splashed some water on her heated face. Then she took a moment to run a brush through her hair. Not satisfied with it, she grabbed a ponytail holder and pulled her hair back out of her face. With a touch of powder and a little lip gloss to add a touch of color to her face, she decided that she wasn’t going to go out of her way for him.

  Satisfied that she’d taken enough time that it didn’t seem as though she was rushing after him, she exited her room. She didn’t hear anything. Had he given up and disappeared to his office?

  Disappointment coursed through her. The fact that she was so eager to hear what he had to say should have been warning enough, but curiosity kept her moving forward. When she entered the wide open living area, she was surprised to find Dante kicked back on the couch with his smartphone in his hand. He glanced up at her with an unidentifiable expression.

  “What?” she asked, feeling self-conscious about her appearance.

  He shook his head, dismissing her worry. “Nothing. It’s just that when I think I’ve figured you out, you go and surprise me.”

  “And how did I do that?”

  He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes, it does. Otherwise you wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  “It’s just that as tough as you act, on the inside you’re such a girl.” His gaze drifted over her change of clothes down to her strappy black sandals. “And a beautiful one at that.”

  She crossed her arms and shrugged. “
I...I’m sorry for being sensitive. I’m not normally like that. I swear. It won’t happen again.”

  But the one subject she didn’t dare delve into was that her appearance was an illusion. Unlike his other women friends, her clothes didn’t come from some Rome boutique. Her clothes were hand-me-downs. For a moment, she wondered what he’d say if he knew she was a fraud. Her insides tightened as she thought of him rejecting her.

  “Apology accepted.” He patted a spot on the black leather couch next to him. “Now come sit down.”

  It was then that she noticed the candles on the glass coffee table. And there were the dishes of berries and fresh whipped cream and a sprig of mint. Why in the world had he brought it up here?

  When she sat down, it was in the overstuffed chair. “I don’t understand.”

  He leaned forward. His elbows rested on his knees. Her instinct was to sit back out of his reach, but steely resistance kept her from moving. She wasn’t going to let him think that he had any power over her.

  “Dante, what’s this all about? Are you trying to soften the blow? Are you calling off the television spot?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  LIZZIE’S HARD GAZE challenged him.

  Dante wondered if she truly wanted him to step away from this project. Had she gotten a taste of his mentoring skills and changed her mind? Not that it mattered. It was too late for either of them to back out.

  Somehow he had to smooth things out with her. And he wasn’t well versed with apologies. This was going to be harder than he’d imagined.

  “It’s my turn to apologize.” There. He’d said it. Now he just hoped that she’d believe him.

  “For what?”

  This was where things got sticky. He didn’t want to talk about feelings and emotions. He swallowed hard as he sorted his thoughts.

  “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about dinner.” Her gaze narrowed in on him, letting him know that he now had her full attention. “See, that’s the thing. I’m not a teacher. I have no experience. My grandfather always prided himself on being the one to show people how to do things. He has a way about him that makes people want to learn. If he hadn’t been a chef, he should have been a teacher.”