by Nina Singh
“You do?”
“Sure. Sometimes being part of a family is letting them believe what they want to believe—untruths they’re vested in despite all evidence.”
He sounded very sincere. Like he really did understand. Better than she could have guessed.
“You’d be surprised,” he told her, as if reading her thoughts.
She waited for him to continue, didn’t push when he failed to elaborate further. He changed the subject. “So, first things first, what’s the venue? I’m guessing this is a formal affair. I already own a couple of tuxes.”
“Yes. We’ll need to get into all of that. Plus, I don’t know all that much about you. Well, I know nothing about you, in fact.”
“Nor I you. That is indeed a problem. We’ll need to set aside some time and get into all of the unknowns. How about dinner tonight?”
“I can do that,” she answered, then chuckled with a slow shake of her head.
“What?”
“I just can’t believe that we’re going through with this. That you’ve actually agreed to go along with it.”
She could only hope they both knew what they were getting into.
CHAPTER FIVE
SHE COULD HAVE stumbled into a worse scenario than the one she was about to embark upon. Somehow, through some very random events, beginning with a tossed drink, Laney found herself about to dine with a gentleman she’d barely just met who was preparing a home-cooked meal for her so they could go over how to act like a committed couple. Gianni told her he wanted to show off his culinary skills, so he’d invited her to his apartment for what he called a made-from-scratch, authentic-Italian meal.
The thought of it made her mouth water as she walked up the steps to his brownstone. He lived just outside Boston’s North End district, an area most other cities would call Little Italy. Even from this distance, the myriad of scents from the nearby restaurants, bakeries and grocery shops hovered in the air and further spurred her appetite.
Not to mention, the aroma coming from Gianni’s apartment was just as enticing. She deeply inhaled it all as she pressed his doorbell. He answered within seconds. He wore a waist apron with a cartoon map of Italy. The T-shirt he had on wasn’t exactly tight but fit him well enough to accent all those toned muscles of his chest and upper arms.
How did the man manage to look so gosh darn sexy wearing a cartoon apron for heaven’s sake?
“Right on time,” he said with that devilish smile she was starting to find so familiar and charming. “Welcome. Come on in.”
He stepped aside, opening the door farther. That mouth-watering scent she’d been enjoying outside intensified, a heady mix of spices, garlic and tomato.
“I happen to be running a bit late,” he informed her. “Dinner is still in progress.”
“You didn’t have to go through the trouble of cooking for me, you know,” she told him. “But I definitely appreciate it. It smells delicious in here.”
“I enjoy cooking, happy to do it.”
She reached inside her oversized bag to pull out the host gift she’d brought. Gianni had told her he had the whole dinner planned and would take care of everything from the wine to the dessert. And she certainly didn’t want to second-guess an expert Italian cook about any part of an Italian dinner. So she’d brought the only thing she could think of.
His smile grew as he took it from her. “A basil plant. Perfect.” He gently pulled off a couple of the leaves. “I’ll put this to use right now on the bruschetta.”
She followed him down the hallway, farther into the apartment. He had some kind of hard rock track playing in the background, just loud enough to notice but not enough to recognize the tune.
“Is that what smells so divine?” she asked.
“That, plus the tomato sauce is simmering on the stove top.”
He really knew what he was doing. “Can I help in any way?”
“Sure. Have you ever rolled gnocchi?”
She shook her head. “Can’t say that I have. My culinary skills are limited to throwing some kind of meat in the oven and pressing start on the rice cooker.”
He pointed behind him. “Then go wash up and get prepared for a brief lesson on gnocchi rolling. Washroom’s through that door.”
She did as instructed, and when she returned, Gianni handed her an apron of her own. A full-length one for her. “Don’t want you staining that dress,” he told her. “That would be a shame.” His eyes traveled down the length of her body as he said it and she felt heat spread from her middle clear up to her face. It had nothing to do with the steam coming from the various pots on the stove.
Without responding to his comment, she pulled the apron over her head and tied the straps behind her back at the waist. She took her time in order to try to regain some of her composure after the effect of his words and gaze. She stepped over to the counter. “What can I do to help?”
Several thin rows of some kind of dough sat on the counter, fluffy white flour was sprinkled along the entire surface. Gianni took a large knife and deftly sliced each row into small pieces. He then grabbed a small wooden board with a handle and ridges on one side. “Here,” he gently took her by the shoulders as he handed her the board. “Take a piece of the dough, and just sort of roll it down the board. But stop before the dough completely rolls on itself. You need a small gap in the middle.”
She started to do as instructed, trying to focus fully on the task at hand. It wasn’t easy with him standing so close. He reached inside the drawer for another board to use himself. Her first roll didn’t turn out so great. Why was it so hard to concentrate on a simple task merely because he was near?
“You look confused,” he said with an amused smile.
“Well, not to sound too uninformed, as I did admit my limited culinary talents earlier after all, but this seems like a lot of work. Can’t we just cook the dough as these small pieces?”
He slowly shook his head. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. You need these ridges and the small opening in the middle so that the sauce can get into each nook.”
She supposed that made sense. But understanding the concept wasn’t exactly helping her with the process. All her pieces looked like mangled small pebbles.
Gianni must have taken pity on her. “Here, let me show you.”
He stepped behind her and she lost her breath for a moment. Whatever aftershave he was wearing reminded her of nighttime walks along the beach. The heat from his body behind her seeped through her clothes to her skin. She could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck. Then he took her right hand in his own and proceeded to demonstrate exactly how to roll the small piece of dough down the board in one quick motion.
“See, easy as pie,” he said against her cheek. “You think you’ve got the hang of it?”
Think? Who could think? As if Laney could even register anything but the feel of him against her back.
She nodded lamely and allowed him to continue guiding her.
“You’re a natural,” he declared.
A shudder ran through her as heat flamed over her skin. His breath was hot on her cheek. It would be so easy to turn her head back just enough to bring her lips closer to his. Would he kiss her? Or would he wait for her to make the first move? Heaven help her, she very likely would. Several beats passed with neither one moving so much as a muscle. The very air around them seemed to grow thick. Her pulse pounded in her ears and she couldn’t seem to make her mouth work.
This was wrong. They barely knew each other. She’d just broken up with her boyfriend.
She had to pump the brakes.
As if sensing her thoughts, Gianni released a sigh behind her and it was enough to break the heated moment. Finally, he stepped back. Part of her felt relief. And another much more bothersome part of her felt sheer, stark disappointment.
One thing was certain. When Gianni Marti
no accompanied her to the wedding as her newest fling, she was going to have absolutely zero trouble pretending to be attracted to him.
* * *
He didn’t even want to pretend anymore. Not to himself, anyway. He absolutely couldn’t deny just how much he was attracted to this woman. Which really was rather inconvenient.
For a moment back there, before he’d regained his senses, he’d come perilously close to reaching for her, then pulling her into his arms. From there, heaven only knew what might have happened. He imagined lifting her up, sitting her on the counter, then pulling her up against him as he finally indulged in the kiss he’d so often fantasized about.
Luckily, he’d somehow managed to resist.
The growing attraction between them was only going to further muddy an already rather complicated situation. He had nobody but himself to blame. Not that there was much he could do about it now. He couldn’t very well renege on his commitment to attend her sister’s wedding.
He should have never agreed to that. She’d just looked so forlorn and so down when she’d spoken about her family and all the ways she felt out of place within her own clan.
It had all tugged at his heart. They had more in common than she’d ever guess. It still felt a bit unsettling, how close he’d come to telling her about his own situation, as the unwanted and unplanned son of a father who only claimed him to save face. So that he could pretend his wife had never cheated.
Laney didn’t need to know any of that about him or his family. What had made him come so close to telling her? He had to wonder if agreeing to go with her wasn’t going to end up being a colossal mistake.
Speaking of mistakes—what had he been thinking, stepping behind her and holding her that way? The electricity between them right now practically crackled in the air.
“Am I doing it right? They look better, don’t they?” she asked next to him now, finally breaking the loaded moment. She held up the latest gnocchi she’d just rolled.
He pretended to examine it closely. “It’s a work of art. My mamma would be impressed.”
“Ha! Somehow I doubt that.”
But chances were she’d never even meet his mamma. He was only meeting her family due to a fluky set of circumstances neither one of them could have guessed before they’d laid eyes on each other.
He would have to tell her the truth as soon as their playacting was over. Right after the wedding. He would have to confess that it hadn’t been mere happenstance that had brought him into her club that night.
Her reaction was probably going to be far from pleasant. But he would have to cross that bridge when he came to it. By then, he’d be able to prove himself to be someone she could trust, and she’d hopefully see that his heart had been in the right place even if he couldn’t tell her.
And if she didn’t?
Well, he wasn’t going to allow himself to entertain that unpleasant possibility just yet. And he certainly wasn’t going to let it spoil what was so far turning out to be a thoroughly enjoyable evening.
After all, what exactly was he supposed to tell her? That he also happened to be the black sheep of the family? But his similar status came about for an entirely different reason. A reason everyone in his orbit had denied and ignored his whole life. He’d only discovered said reason himself thanks to an aging uncle with loose lips when he’d visited Italy as a preteen.
He shook off the useless thoughts and made himself focus on the present. Laney stood staring at him, as if she’d noticed he’d drifted somewhere far away. He hadn’t even noticed all the gnocchi was rolled already.
He gently took her by the shoulders and led her to one of the bar stools at the counter. “Enough work on your part. I’m dangerously close to being a bad host here. Have a seat while I finish up.” He grabbed the bottle chilling in the ice bucket and poured her a glass of wine.
“If you’re sure.”
“Absolutely.” He pointed to her midsection. “Take off that apron and assume honored-guest mode starting this instant.”
She laughed and gave him a mock salute. “As you command, sir.”
Within minutes, he had them both plated with the hot steaming entrée, bowls of crispy salad and perfectly toasted garlic bread. He’d done good, if he did say so himself. Laney looked impressed. Her next words confirmed it.
“My mouth is watering. You have outdone my wildest expectations.”
He couldn’t begin to deny the surge of pleasure at her compliment. It grew stronger when she took a bit of the food and groaned in pleasure. Every ounce of will he possessed needed to be summoned in order to avoid responding to that groan.
“Mmm. This is divine. Overwhelmingly good. Seriously, I would have been happy with a deli sandwich and some chips.”
“You wound me with your low expectations of my talents.”
She tilted her head and raised her wine goblet. “You’re right. I admit to underestimating you. My deepest apologies.”
Gianni tapped his glass to hers. “Apology accepted. So, tell me, what made you open up a dance club in Boston? Not a very typical career choice.”
She chewed some more and swallowed. “It wasn’t my first choice.”
“No?”
Shaking her head, she set her fork down. “I left school to become a professional dancer.”
She was certainly full of surprises. “You did?”
“Yep. Didn’t exactly work out.”
Gianni felt himself leaning closer to her over the table. “How so?”
“I tried out and auditioned for numerous companies and acts. Not a one bit.” She gave a wistful shrug before continuing. “Just didn’t have what it took, I kept being told.”
He wanted desperately to go to her, take her in his arms and reassure her that she was more than enough as far as he could see. But he couldn’t allow himself to do that. Besides, right now it sounded like a simple ear to listen was all she might need.
“So I came back to Boston with my tail tucked between my legs. After having let everyone down with my decision to throw away my future, as my mother and father put it.”
“But you didn’t go back to school.”
She took another sip of her wine. “It’s not for me. I’m not exactly the studious type. And I’m definitely not the type to sit in an office cubicle making phone calls or crunching numbers.”
“So what happened?”
“As luck would have it, my reclusive grandfather left us a small sum of an inheritance. My sister invested her share in the market. And I invested mine in a different direction than the one I’d originally set for myself.”
He was fascinated by her. Despite consistent disappointment, she’d somehow managed to find an alternate dream to pursue, then made it come true. “That’s remarkable. Consider me impressed.”
Gentle laughter escaped her lips. “Impressed? Did you hear the part about my numerous rejections as a professional dancer?”
“Yes. I also heard the much more important part.”
Her gaze drifted downward before she cleared her throat, then changed the subject. “So what about you? Tell me about what you do.”
His story wasn’t nearly as interesting, but he began to tell her. “I work for an entertainment company. We own and run everything from gaming centers to small casinos, and a few gyms.”
She raised an elegant eyebrow. “That sounds like quite an empire. What’s your role?”
“I’m a VP in the office of the CEO. Who happens to be my father. He’s a self-made businessman who started out small with a few gaming halls, which then led to small casinos and other entertainment venues. More recently, we’ve expanded into the fitness and gym arenas after I discovered kickboxing.”
To his surprise, Laney seemed genuinely interested in the kickboxing piece. He explained his training routine and the various positions, both offensive and defensive
. Before he knew it, they were halfway through with dinner.
There was no more delaying the inevitable. Laney apparently came to the same conclusion based on her next comment. “So I suppose we should start to talk about your newly acquired status as my significant other. And exactly what scenario we’re going to present to the outside world next week.”
She was right of course. But he couldn’t help the small twinge of disappointment at the clear acknowledgment that this wasn’t any kind of real date.
“I suppose you’re right.”
She turned in the stool to fully face him, all business suddenly. “We may as well start with the basics. How did we meet? I say we stick as close to the truth as possible.”
The sincerity in her tone made it clear just how serious she was about all this going smoothly. How much it meant to her that her family believe she’d found a real and solid relationship after her last one had crumbled.
He could only hope he wouldn’t let her down.
CHAPTER SIX
Two weeks later
HERE IT WAS—their first big test. Emily’s wedding weekend. And it all started with a merry bash the night before the big day aboard a yacht for a sunset sail. The entire wedding party and a few distinguished guests were being treated to a three-hour cruise along Boston harbor. Gianni had picked her up so that they could drive in together. Laney tried to swallow down the queasy feeling in her throat as Gianni pulled his late-model sports car into the underground parking lot of the hotel that was to house the festivities for the next couple of days.
Between all the last-minute wedding details and her sister’s and parents’ work schedules, they’d never actually met Gianni. So tonight was going to be all or nothing as far as impressions went. They’d reacted just as she’d expected when she told them about Joseph’s sudden rejection. Hence, she’d spared Gianni no amount of praise and compliments as she described him to her family, somewhat softening the blow from the announcement of her breakup.
She glanced at him now as he killed the ignition and gathered his wallet from the dashboard. He was everything a girl would want to bring home to the folks. Handsome, successful, personality in spades. And he could cook! A soft flush of heat warmed her cheeks as she thought about that night two weeks ago in his apartment when he’d stood up so close to her, the scent of him tempting all her senses. The same scent which filled the car right now. That night had been the last time they’d been physically together to try to hash out the plan. Only a handful of phone calls had taken place between them since. Their work schedules just hadn’t seemed to mesh.