The Playboy of Rome

by Jennifer Faye

  “Heard me say what?”

  He kicked at a stone on the side of the desolate road. It skidded into the field. “When I found you gone that morning, I went searching for you. I knew that the night wasn’t anything either one of us planned and I was worried that maybe you’d regretted it.”

  “But I didn’t...not like you’re thinking.”

  He pressed a finger to her lips. “Let me finish before I lose my nerve.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not proud of what I have to say.”

  Her eyes implored him to get to the point.

  “After I’d searched the whole apartment including your bedroom and found it empty, I panicked. I’d thought you’d left for good. But then I saw your suitcase. So I went down to the ristorante and that’s when I heard your voice. When I moved toward the office, I heard you on the phone. And when you said that what we had was a one-time thing—that it didn’t mean anything—I knew you regretted our lovemaking.”

  “Oh, Dante. I’m so sorry you overheard that.”

  Hope swelled in his chest. “Are you saying that all of this time I misunderstood?”

  Her gaze dipped. “I wish I could tell you that, but I can’t.”

  Piercing pain arrowed into his chest. His jaw tightened as he took a step back. He was standing here making a fool of himself for a lady who wanted nothing but to put thousands of miles between them.

  “We should get back to the house and get your things.” He turned for the car feeling lower than he’d ever felt in his life.

  “Wait! Please.” The pleading tone in her voice caused him to pause. She rushed to his side. “When I said those words, I was in the midst of a panic attack. That night had been so special. It had me reconsidering my future. I didn’t know what I was feeling for you. I just knew that I didn’t want to get hurt.”

  “And then I turned around and hurt you by putting so much distance between us.”

  She bit down on her lower lip and nodded.

  Damn. What he knew about dealing with women and relationships couldn’t even fill up the thimble his father kept on his dresser as a reminder of his mother. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. That’s the last thing in the world I wanted to do.”

  “I never wanted to hurt you either. Is there any way we can go back to being friends?”

  “I think we can do better than that.” His head dipped and caught her lips.

  Not sure that he’d made the right move and not wanting to scare her off, he restrained himself, making the kiss brief. It was with great regret that he pulled away. But when she looked up at him and smiled, he knew that he’d made the right move. There was still something there. Something very special.

  “See. Your dinner was very successful. It brought us back together. Thank you for not giving up on me and for going to all of the trouble to get through my thick skull.”

  She lifted up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. No way was he letting her get away twice. His arms quickly wrapped around her waist and pulled her close. It seemed like forever since he’d tasted her and held her. He didn’t ever want this moment to end. When she was in his arms, the world felt as if it had righted itself.

  The blare of a horn from a passing motorist had Lizzie jumping out of his arms. Color filled her face. “I don’t think we should put on a show for everyone.”

  “Why not?” He didn’t feel like being proper at the moment. He had more important things on his mind, like getting her back in his arms. “Who doesn’t enjoy a couple—” he’d almost said “in love” but he’d caught himself in time “—a couple enjoying themselves on a summer evening.”

  “Is that what we were doing?”

  Not comfortable exploring the eruption of emotions that plagued him when they’d kissed, he didn’t answer her question. Instead he slipped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her close. “How about you and I head back to the villa?”

  “I don’t know. Couldn’t we just go back to the city?”

  “But your things are still there.”

  She didn’t move. Then he noticed her gaze searching out his car that was a ways back the road. In that moment he knew how to get her back to the vineyard.

  He jangled the car keys in front of her. “I’ll let you drive Red.”

  Her surprised gaze searched his face. “Are you serious?”

  “I’d never joke about driving Red.”

  She snatched the keys from his hand and started for the car.

  “That’s it?” He started after her. “You just take the keys and don’t say a word. You know I never let anyone drive Red, right?”

  “I know. But you owe me.”

  “And how do you get that?”

  “I put up with your moodiness lately.” She smiled up at him, letting him know that her sense of humor had returned. “And I didn’t complain.”

  He stopped in his tracks and planted his hands on his sides. “I wasn’t moody!”

  “Oh, yes, you were,” she called over her shoulder. “Worse than an old bear awakened during a snowstorm. You better hurry or you’ll miss your ride.”

  “You wouldn’t...”

  Then again, she just might, depending on her mood. He smiled and shook his head. Then, realizing that she hadn’t slowed down for him, he took long, quick strides to catch up with her.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  LIZZIE CHECKED HER tattered pride at the door. With her shoulders pulled back, she entered the DeFiore home once again. She didn’t know what she expected but it certainly wasn’t everyone relaxing. Massimo was reading the newspaper. Stefano was in another room watching a soccer game on a large-screen television. She’d been corrected numerous times that on this side of the pond, it was referred to as football. Not that it mattered one way or the other to her. She’d never been a sports fan.

  “See. Nothing to worry about.” The whisper of Dante’s voice in her ear sent a wave of goose bumps down her arms.

  She moved to the kitchen. Everything had been cleaned and put away. “I still haven’t seen your father anywhere.”

  Dante shrugged. “He isn’t one for sitting around. He’s always complaining that there aren’t enough hours in the day.”

  “I’d really like a chance to talk to him—to apologize.”

  Dante moved in front of her. “You have nothing to apologize about.”

  “Yes, I do. I made him unhappy and that’s the last thing I meant to do.”

  “He should be the one apologizing to you. That man always has to have things his way—even if it makes the rest of us miserable.”

  She studied Dante’s furrowed brow and darkened eyes. He wasn’t talking about her or the disastrous dinner. There was something else eating at the relationship he had with his father.

  Maybe she could do something to help. “Have you tried talking to him? Telling him how you feel?”

  “Don’t go there.” Dante’s brusque tone caught her off guard.

  She took a second to suck down her emotional response. “Listen, I know there’s something wrong between you and your father. When he enters the room, you leave. Your contact is bare minimum.”

  Dante shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

  “No. It’s definitely something. And take it from someone who never knew their father and would have moved heaven and earth to get to know him—you need to fix this thing before it’s too late.”

  “But it’s not me. It’s him. There’s nothing about me that he approves of.”

  “Aren’t you exaggerating just a bit?”

  “Not really.” Dante raked his fingers through his hair. “But you don’t want to hear any of this. Compared to you, I have nothing to complain about.”

  She worried her bottom lip. In her effort to make him realize how lucky he was to have a family, she’d made him feel worse. “My background has nothing to do with yours. But I would like to hear more about you and your father, if you’ll tell me.”

  Dante stared at her as though trying to decide if she was being on the leve
l or not. The silence grew oppressive. And just when she thought he was going to brush her off, he started to talk.

  “We didn’t exactly get off to a good start as he got stuck with a newborn baby in exchange for losing his wife. Not exactly a fair trade.”

  “Still, it’s nothing that you can be held responsible for.”

  “I resemble my mother in more than just my looks. Instead of being drawn into the vineyard like my brother, I got restless. My father didn’t understand why I wasn’t interested in the family business. We fought about it continually until I moved to Rome.”

  “And that’s where you found your passion for cooking.”

  He nodded. “I thought I had found my calling until Massimo left. It hasn’t been the same since.” Dante turned to her and looked her straight in the eyes. “If I tell you something, will you promise it’ll go no further?”

  She crossed her heart just like she used to do as a kid with Jules. “I promise.”

  “I’m in negotiations to sell the ristorante—”

  “What? But why?”

  “I figured that it’s time I moved home. Make amends. And do my part.”

  “And you think that’ll make you happy?”

  He shrugged and looked away from her. “I think it’s the best thing I can do for my family. Maybe at last it’ll make my father happy.”

  Lizzie bit back her opinion. She’d have to think long and hard about what to say to him because she didn’t have much experience when it came to families. With it just being her and Jules, they’d been able to work things out pretty easily. But this bigger family dynamic had her feeling like a fish out of water.

  “Why don’t you talk to your father? Tell him your plan.”

  He shrugged. “Every time I try, we end up arguing. Usually over the choices I’ve made in my life.”

  She heard the defeated tone in his voice and it dug at the old scars on her heart. “Don’t give up. Promise me. It’s too important.”

  Dante’s eyes widened at her plea. “I’ll do my best.”

  That was all she could ask of him. And she believed him. Though she didn’t think that selling the restaurant and moving back here was the answer to his problems. But that was for Dante to figure out on his own.

  “Now, where did you say I could find your father?”

  * * *

  Was she right?

  Dante rolled around everything they’d talked about in his mind as he led Lizzie to the barrel cellar. When his father wasn’t out in the fields checking the grapes or the soil, he was in the cellar—avoiding his family. As a young child, Dante resented anything and everything that had to do with the vineyard. He blamed the grapes for his father’s notable absence.

  But as Dante grew up, he realized it wasn’t the vineyard he should blame—it was his father. It was his choice to avoid his children. And though his father wasn’t as remote as he used to be, some habits were hard to change.

  Dante glanced over at Lizzie. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  She threaded her fingers with his. With a squeeze, she smiled up at him. “I’m positive. Lead the way.”

  He wanted to lean over and press his mouth to hers—to feel the rightness of holding her in his arms. But with his father close by, Dante would settle for the comfort of her touch. He tightened his grip on her much smaller hand and led her down the steps.

  As they walked, Lizzie asked about the wooden barrels containing the vineyard’s bounty. The fact that she was truly interested in his family’s heritage impressed him. He and his father may not hit it off, but he still had pride in his family’s hard work. It was why he showcased DeFiore vino exclusively at the ristorante.

  “This is so impressive.” Lizzie looked all around at the walls of barrels. “And they’re all full of wine?”

  He nodded. “This place has grown a lot since I was a kid.”

  “Dante, is that you?”

  They both turned to find his father holding a sample of vino. “Hey, Papa. I thought we’d find you down here.”

  “I was doing some testing.” His father glanced at Lizzie. “We do a periodic analysis of the contents and top off the barrels to keep down the exposure to oxygen due to evaporation.”

  “With all of these barrels, I’d say you have a lot of work to stay on top of things.”

  “It keeps me busy.” His father smiled, something he didn’t do often. “Is there something you needed?”

  Lizzie glanced at Dante, but if she thought he was going anywhere, she was mistaken. He wasn’t budging. He crossed his arms and leaned against a post. His father could be gruff and tactless at times. Dante wasn’t about to let him hurt Lizzie’s feelings any more than had already been done.

  Lizzie turned to his father. “Mr. DeFiore, I owe you an apology for tonight. I’m so sorry I ruined your dinner and...and brought up painful memories. I had absolutely no idea that the recipe held such special meaning for you. If I had, I never would have cooked that meal.”

  There was an awkward pause. Dante’s body tensed. Please don’t let his father brush her off as though her apology meant nothing. Lizzie didn’t say it, but she wanted his father’s approval. And Dante wanted it for her. He didn’t want her to feel the pain of once again being rejected.

  Dante turned his gaze on his father, planning to send him a warning look, but his father was staring down at the vino in his hand.

  The breath caught in Dante’s chest as tension filled the room. When his father spoke, his voice was softer than normal and Dante strained to hear every word.

  “I am the one who owes you an apology. I reacted badly. And I’m sorry. The meal, it...it caught me off guard. It tasted exactly like my wife’s.”

  The pent-up breath released from Dante’s lungs like a punctured balloon. He didn’t know what was up with his father, but Dante was thankful he’d paid Lizzie such a high compliment. As far as Dante knew, there was no higher compliment than for his father to compare Lizzie’s cooking to that of his mother. Was it possible his father truly was changing for the better?

  “I’ll try not to cook any of your wife’s favorites in the future—”

  “No. I mean I’d like you to. I know this meal caught me off guard, but it brought back some of the best memories.” His father set aside the vino and reached for Lizzie’s hand. “I hope I haven’t scared you off. I’d really like you to come back and cook for us. That is, if you’d still like to.”

  “I would...like to cook for you, that is.”

  “Maybe next weekend?”

  Dante at last found his voice. “Papa, we can’t be here next weekend. There’s been a change in the filming schedule and they’re pushing to wrap up the series, so we’ll be working all next weekend.”

  “Oh, I see.” His father turned to Lizzie. “So what do you think of my son? Is he good in the kitchen?”

  Lizzie’s eyes opened wide. “You don’t know?”

  His father shook his head. “He never cooks for us. Always says it’s too much like work.”

  Lizzie turned an astonished look to Dante. Guilt consumed him. He shrugged his shoulders innocently.

  The truth was that cooking was an area where he’d excelled and he didn’t want his father’s ill-timed, stinging comments to rob him of that special feeling. But witnessing this different side of his father had him rethinking his stance.

  “We’ll have to change that.” Lizzie turned back to his father. “Your son is an excellent cook and he’s turning out to be an excellent teacher.”

  “I have an idea.” There was a gleam in his father’s eyes. “I’m sure Dante has told you that Massimo hasn’t had an easy time moving away from the city and leaving the ristorante behind.”

  Lizzie nodded. “He mentioned it. What can I do to help?”

  “That’s the spirit.” Papa smiled. “I was thinking that we should celebrate his birthday.”

  “You mean like a party.”

  He nodded. “Something special to show him that...well, you know
.”

  “To let him know that everybody loves him.”

  Papa nodded. “I’ll hire the musicians.”

  Lizzie’s face lit up and she turned to Dante. “What do you think? Would you be willing to bring me back here?”

  He couldn’t think of anything he’d like more. “I think it can be arranged.”

  She smiled at him and a spot in his chest warmed. The warmth spread throughout his body. And he realized that for the first time he was at total ease around his father. Lizzie was a miracle worker.

  “Don’t worry about a thing.” She patted his father’s arm. “Dante and I will take care of all the food. Although your son might have to get a bigger vehicle to haul everything.”

  That was not a problem. Her wish was his command. He had a feeling that this party was going to be a huge deal and not just for his grandfather. He had a feeling his own life would never be the same again.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  AND THAT WAS a wrap!

  Two weeks ahead of schedule, the filming was over. Lizzie was exhausted. They’d worked every available minute to get enough footage for the studio to splice together for the upcoming season.

  And so far Dante hadn’t said a word about everything they’d shared at the vineyard. Every time she’d worked up the courage to ask him about it, there was no opportunity for them to talk privately. And it was driving her crazy wondering where they went from here. Technically, she still had another two weeks in Rome to learn as much as she could from him. But her biggest lessons hadn’t been taught in the kitchen.

  Somewhere along the way, she’d fallen in love with Dante. Oh, she’d been in love with him for longer than she’d been willing to admit. And she accepted that was the reason she’d been so freaked out after they’d made love. She just couldn’t bear to have him reject her, so she did the rejecting first. Not her best move.

  “Something on your mind?” Dante asked as he strolled into the living room Saturday morning.

  “I was thinking about you.” She watched as surprise filtered across his handsome features.

  “You were?” In a navy suit, white dress shirt and maroon tie, he looked quite dashing. “Only good thoughts, I hope.”