“Oh, yes, what did it have in it again—cheese?” She looked at him, her eyes widening under her sunglasses. He looked to be enjoying this too much.
“Wild boar and prunes. You were a pro.”
She kept her smile. “But I loved what Chef Baghatti said…what was it?”
“Bellissimo?”
“No, no.” She sat up, swinging her legs over the lounger. “It was such a breathtaking place. I saved for a year to be able to go, and of course, I went by myself because I was hoping I might find true love.” She winked at Benito. “I was sitting in the Adirondack chair by the pool when Luke walked in, and of course, there were these two women from Paris who thought they might catch his eye. They drove me crazy the entire time, always Paris this, and Paris that—I think Chef Baghatti wanted to throw them into the wine cave and lock the door. Sure enough they got up and strutted toward Luke, and wouldn’t you know it, he wasn’t watching where he was going and he knocked one right into the pool.”
“I didn’t mean to,” Luke mumbled. “I had my eyes elsewhere.” His gaze tracked to her, and warmth rushed through her. She probably needed to get out of the sun.
“Anyway, Chef Baghatti saw what happened and he convinced Luke to leave his tour and join ours. Said we were aligned under the stars or something.”
“Actually he said, ‘Quando ì fui preso, et non me ne guardai, chè i bè vostr’occhi, donna, mi legaro.’ The words flowed out of Luke so easily, as if they really had met in Italy, really had fallen in love under a waxen moon, this exotic man and his high-adventures girlfriend. They scooped all the breath from her. Luke met her eyes with a smile that reached right through her. “When I was caught, I put up no fight, my lady, for your lovely eyes had bound me.”
Oh. Uh…
“That’s very romantic,” Lucia said, pulling down her glasses. “So, it was love at first sight?”
“Yes,” Luke said.
“Yes,” Scarlett whispered.
“There is nothing sweeter than true love.” Glancing at Luke, Benito nodded, camaraderie in his expression. Then he raised his bottle and Scarlett reached for her glass. She met his in a toast.
Luke’s smile, however, dimmed for just a second, hidden from Benito as he picked up his sweating soda from the table. But his voice betrayed nothing amiss. “To true love.”
Scarlett lay back on her lounger, his words still in her ears.
Benito finished off his beer and kissed Lucia. “I think that Scarlett and Luke should cook for us something of Tuscany.”
Her mouth opened.
“Yes, Benito. We would love to, after the wedding—” Luke said, his voice easy.
“No, tonight. Cook for us tonight.”
Tonight?
But Luke shrugged. “No problem. What do we need, darling?” He turned to her, took another sip of his drink.
What did they need? He didn’t seriously believe that she’d been in Italy, right? She’d…she’d, well she’d lied. She’d never been to Italy, never even taken a cooking class. She’d simply drawn from a scene in a book—
Oh, wait. He smirked at her.
“Basil. And…” What was that other Italian herb? “Oregano. And fresh mozzarella. And—”
“I don’t think we can come up with a wild boar.” Benito smiled. “But I’ll have my people find the rest.” He kissed Lucia on the forehead. “Salut!”
Oh, no.
He got up and climbed down from the deck.
Luke continued to smile.
“Are you serious? We’re going to cook?” Yet, for a rich, aromatic moment, she saw herself with an apron tied around her waist, Luke standing behind her, his arms encircling her, stirring tomato sauce, pressing a kiss to her neck—
“This is perfect,” he said, probably reading her thoughts.
Yes, it was, wasn’t it?
He set down his drink, his voice pitching low. “I couldn’t figure out how to get you off the ship, but oh, Scarlett, you’re brilliant.”
“I am?” She was?
“Yes.” He walked over and picked up her hand, kissing it.
She stared at him. “I don’t understand.” But she did relish the tingles that went up her arm, right into her brain.
Maybe he’d…what if he wasn’t acting? What if he felt it, too, the sparks between them as they’d spun that lie, the taste of romance on this clear blue day. What if he really meant it?
She smiled up at him.
“You’re going to get drunk and come on to Benito.”
You’re going to—What? “Wait! What did you say?” She yanked her hand out of his grasp. “I’m not going to do any such thing!”
His smile dimmed. “Just calm down, it’s a great plan.”
“It’s a horrible idea. Why on earth would I ever do that? First, I don’t drink—you know that.”
“You don’t have to drink. I’ll teach you a trick that makes it look like you’re drinking only you’re not. You’ll be sober, but Benito won’t know that.”
“Why would I want him to think I’m drunk?”
“Because a sober girl wouldn’t try to seduce him.”
“I will not try and seduce him! What a horrible thing to say. I’m…well, I’m a Christian for one, and two, I’m…engaged!”
And of course, her voice had to tremble, her insides suddenly jumbled. But he’d just kissed her hand, just looked at her as if he…
It was all part of the mission. Part of adapting. A temp job.
What a fool she’d been to think he might actually be interested in her. She’d blame it on her sunstroke.
She looked at Lucia. “Are you okay with this?”
Clearly not, from the stricken look on Lucia’s face.
Scarlett turned to Luke. “Why?”
His smile had cooled, his expression dark. “Because, like I told you in the hotel, this is a short-term gig. You need to get off this boat. And I have to stay. And the only way I can think of is for you to offend your best friend here. Lucia, you have to kick her off, and Benito has to believe it.”
Lucia sighed.
“Lucia—” Luke started.
“I know, I know. I just…” Lucia swallowed. “Fine.”
“Fine?” Scarlett tore her gaze off Lucia and turned back to Luke. “No, not fine. This is your magnificient plan? I’m not going to have anyone think I would betray, well, my fiancé—” she pointed to Luke “—and you—” she turned to Lucia, “my best friend. What kind of person would that make me? No. I’m not a man-stealer.” Her jaw tightened and she pinned a glare on Luke. “And you know it.”
His mouth tightened a little around the edges. “Of course you’re not. But it’s a good plan, and it’ll work.”
“Well, what if I don’t want to leave? I don’t have to leave. Lucia needs me, right?”
“Don’t answer her,” Luke said darkly.
Lucia drew in a long breath.
“It doesn’t matter what she says. I’m not leaving.” Scarlett got up, grabbed her wrap, snaked it around her waist and slipped into her flip-flops.
“Where are you going?”
“To the kitchen. I’m going to learn how to cook.”
Luke had recruited a regular Julia Child. Scarlett stood in the kitchen, a towel around her waist, slicing a piece of freshly grilled tenderloin into strips, her hair back in a curly ponytail, putting more effort into the meat than she probably needed to.
He settled his hands on her hips, intending to lean in and whisper in her ear for the benefit of Benito’s chef, who now tossed an arugula salad. Scarlett jumped and rounded on him.
The knife dripped dark juice and he peddled back, hands up. “Don’t kill me.”
“I should.” She narrowed her eyes at him, then turned back to the meat. “I still can’t believe you suggested what you suggested.”
He could admit that after she’d left, and he’d had a moment to allow the fresh air to clear his brain, he didn’t exactly love the idea of her flirting with Benito. Something abou
t the images of her in Benito’s arms just made his stomach tighten.
“What are you making?”
“Tagliata with rosemary, capers and lemon.”
“Really?”
She made a face at him. “You so underestimate me.”
Yes, perhaps he did. “Can I help?”
“Sure, turn down the heat on that balsamic vinegar I’m reducing. It should be the texture of syrup.” She glanced at the chef and he nodded, a smile on his face.
Luke picked up the spoon, stirring the mixture bubbling on the stove. “This smells good. And what’s this?” He pushed what looked like mini artichokes around a pan seasoned with oil.
“Fried capers. I couldn’t believe Estoban had them in his pantry.”
“Okay, I’m impressed.”
“Don’t be. The recipe was in the back of one of my novels.” She slid the sliced meat onto a plate layered with cut arugula. “I cooked it for my aunt, and we pretended we lived in Tuscany for the day.”
“Is that where you came up with our scenario?”
“A great scene from To Rome with Love.” She reached for a pan of oil, rosemary and garlic and drizzled it over the meat.
“Another book?”
“Same book. But one of my favorites.” She picked up the caper pan, added it to the reduced balsamic vinegar and stirred. “See, life imitating art.” She looked up at him, smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
He’d hurt her. If the bloody knife didn’t give it away, the way she tucked in her arms to move past him with the pot of vinegar did.
As if she didn’t want to touch him.
He suddenly very much remembered touching her, his hand rubbing sunblock over her shoulders, on her upper back, the rich smell of coconut lifting from her skin.
The fragrance caught him as she walked by, and for a second he couldn’t breathe.
He watched her pour the vinegar over the steak and for a long moment, he forgot where he was. He saw himself in a kitchen, just like this, Scarlett preparing dinner, him setting the table. Perhaps she’d look up at him and smile, as she did this afternoon when they’d spun their story. He’d put down the silverware, come over to her, wrap his hands around her waist and turn her, catch her face in his hand and—
“You can put this on the table. And then fetch Benito and Lucia.” She thrust the platter of meat into his hands without meeting his eyes.
Oh, boy.
He put the platter on the counter as she turned to the sink and began dumping in her used utensils. Her breaths came quickly, as if she might be trying not to cry.
He sighed.
“Scarlett, I’m sorry.” He glanced at the chef, now placing salad on their plates, and stepped up to her, longing to touch her shoulder but instead leaning over to talk into her ear. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m just trying to keep you and Lucia safe, and I can’t help but think it would be better if you got thrown off the boat.”
Her breath trembled. “I know.”
He stilled. “You…know?”
“Yes. And I’ll do it. But I’ll feel sick every second.”
Yeah, well…him, too. He curled his hand over her shoulder, hating it when she stiffened. “I can’t figure out how else to get you off this boat. As it is, you’re going to miss your sister’s party.”
“Oh, she’ll be distraught, I’m sure.”
He didn’t miss the sarcasm in her voice. “I’ll have you back by morning, even if I have to hijack one of the Jet Skis.”
“Terrific.”
“It’s just pretend, you know. You won’t really be flirting with him.”
She closed her eyes, her jaw tight. “Yeah. I got that part. Loud and clear.”
Then why was she so upset? Certainly she knew that he didn’t really think she could be a man-stealer, a betrayer? Six hours with her had told him that she was the kind of woman who would be faithful. Loyal.
Good thing they were just pretending, because she just might be the kind of woman he could trust, even…love.
What? He blew out a breath, backed away from her, gathered himself. No. He so didn’t have room for a woman in his life. Not with his job taking him all over the world.
More than that, he had terrible instincts. Look what happened last time he’d given out his trust, his heart.
“I’ll find Benito and Lucia,” he said, more coolly than he intended.
When he returned with Benito and Lucia, he didn’t recognize the woman he’d left waiting for them in the dining room. She had loosened her hair, added lipstick and held a glass of wine that he knew she wasn’t drinking.
“Hey, Benito,” she said in a voice that wasn’t quite right. “I missed you.”
Oh, brother. If this was her being seductive, they’d be shark dinner. She just might be the worst flirt on the planet.
Indeed, Benito’s eyebrow raised. “You made us dinner.”
“You asked me for dinner, didn’t you?”
This couldn’t be good. Luke pulled out her wicker chair. “Why don’t we eat?”
She sat down and gave them all a sloppy smile. Really, she hadn’t been drinking—had she?
Benito sat next to Lucia. And Luke wanted to cringe when Scarlett scooted her chair closer to him.
Benito took Lucia’s hand. “What did you make us?”
“Tagliata. It’s steak with capers and rosemary.” Scarlett leaned on one hand, meeting his eyes. “I hope you like steak.”
Benito picked up his knife. “It’s no wild boar, but it’ll do.” He looked at her.
Then he made the mistake of winking.
Scarlett laughed, something high and way too bright, and Luke wanted to dive under the table.
“Oh, Benito, you are so funny!” She slammed the table and everything shook. Luke reached out, grabbing her glass before it went over.
“O-kay, I think that’s enough for you.” He moved the wine then slid his arm around the back of her chair while Benito eyed them. “She gets a little too friendly when she’s been drinking.”
“I thought she didn’t drink.”
“Only when I cook!” She went to bang the table again and Luke caught her hand. “How about if we leave the bride and groom to their dinner and I’ll take you back to the room?”
She leaned back, put her hands over her mouth. “Oh, Lukie, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Lukie?
“It’s the sun, I’m sure. It dehydrates a person.” He pulled out her chair, pulling her up into his arms. “Enjoy. She’s a fabulous cook.”
Benito rose. “Do you need help?”
“Yes, help me Benito,” she said, her arm draped over Luke’s neck.
Perfect. Maybe, if he’d let it play out longer, she might just get herself ousted by Benito himself. But, well, he couldn’t take it. Besides, at this rate, they might both get thrown off into the sea.
He glanced at Lucia. Maybe it was enough, though, for a rousing fight in the morning, something Lucia could hurl at Scarlett. Something that might send her home. He tried to send that message to her but found her tight-lipped.
Even offended.
Okay, see, this is what he got for working with amateurs.
He pulled Scarlett from the table and let her lean against him as they walked out into the hallway.
They closed the door to the galley and in a second, she’d untangled herself from his grip and pushed him away. “What’s your problem? I was doing great in there.”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her down the deck, his voice low. “Are you kidding me? It was painful. Like you’ve never flirted with a man in your entire life. That was wretched!”
Her eyes widened and she gulped in a breath. Then, yanking her arm from his grip, she marched in front of him, nearly running.
Perfect. “Scarlett!”
“Just leave me alone, Luke. Just…I’m sorry I’m such a fool.”
Oh, for crying in the sink. “You’re not a fool.”
She rounded and her eyes glistened
against the starlight. “I am. Because, well…okay, I haven’t flirted with a man. Ever. I don’t know how. I just…well, apparently, my best attempts are laughable.”
“That was your best attempt?”
She closed her eyes and he wanted to bang his head against something hard.
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I’m not my sister. I don’t flirt. I’m just me, okay? But clearly that’s not good enough. And yes, you’re right. This was a mistake. I just hope…well, that I didn’t destroy all your big plans.”
She whirled away from him and ran up the stairs to the next deck. By the time he followed, she’d slammed the door to her stateroom.
He stood there for a long moment, then walked out onto the deck and sat down on one of the lounge chairs. He leaned back and considered the stars in the night sky.
“Having woman problems, son?”
EIGHT
The cool darkness of the stateroom—only the moonlight slanted in through the blinds—calmed the chaos in Scarlett’s brain.
She shouldn’t have had that sip—not even one sip!—of wine. It went straight to her head and numbed her into believing she could pull this off.
It was painful. Like you’ve never flirted with a man in your entire life.
Well, she hadn’t, thanks. She’d hoped she could rely on her acting skills, but apparently even those turned out to be abysmal. And now, because of Luke and the way he turned her brain to oatmeal, the way he made her believe that she might be some sort of secret agent, she’d turned herself into a fool.
Again.
She slid to the floor, her back against the door, pressing her head to her knees.
No wonder she liked romance novels. Because it was all she had. After all, who would actually fall for her? The girl hidden behind the stacks of books, the temp girl, the Hanson family leftovers.
Not Duncan, of course. And clearly not Luke.
She pressed her fists into her eyes. No, she wouldn’t cry. Luke had promised her nothing. He’d made it clear from the beginning that she just had a job to do. The blame for this night’s fiasco belonged to her.
And, yes, maybe she had played it up a bit. After all, a girl didn’t watch her glorious sister perform all the time without learning a few tricks.
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