He was older than the others, at seventeen, and had some short-order cooking experience. He’d maintained eye contact with her the entire time they’d spoken. She’d seen the hunger in his eyes. And, like Rico, he’d held himself slightly aloof from the other boys.
‘I suspect he’s a rough diamond. If he gets the right breaks he could go far.’
Rico stared at her, his jaw slack. Then a light blazed in his eyes. It stole her breath. Before she could gather her wits he reached across, took her face in his hands and kissed her.
CHAPTER FOUR
IF NEEN HAD thought Rico’s lips would be cool—like him—she’d have been seriously mistaken. They were hot. Searingly hot. Heat jolted through her all the way down to the soles of her feet, electrifying her. Telling her what she needed and how.
She gasped, but she didn’t pull away.
His grip tightened. And then his tongue stroked her inner lips, teasing and tempting, creating an aching space of need and desire inside her that grew and grew and threatened every shred of her composure until she thought she might die if she didn’t respond.
Her tongue touched his. She felt rather than heard his moan. He smelled of aftershave, but tasted smooth, like a buttery Chardonnay. She pressed herself as close as she could and drank him in.
Beyond the sheer unexpected magic of the kiss, the table bit into her ribs and the clatter of cups and saucers tried to break her concentration. She did what she could to block it out, wanting to savour this one unexpected moment. A moment filled with energy and hope and a lightness of being that was utterly foreign to her but utterly right at the same time.
More china rattled and clinked.
Rico.
Chatter. Laughter.
Kissing her.
The sound of a coffee machine.
So right...
Wrong!
The word screamed through her and Neen planted a hand in his chest and shoved him away. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, trying to rid herself of the taste of him in an effort to settle the clamouring need that hurtled through her. Her body’s betraying hum and thrum, its pounding and pulsing, made her grip the wooden tabletop in an effort to stay upright.
Rico stared at her, his chest rising and falling, his eyes dark and dazed.
She hadn’t expected this kind of ‘insta-lust’ with Rico. He was so contained and driven. She hadn’t experienced anything like it. Not with Chris. Not with anyone.
Chris. Ice trickled down her spine. She was not going to repeat history.
Her heart pounded up into her throat, but she forced her fingers to let go of the table. She slipped the strap of her handbag over her shoulder.
‘I wish you every success with your new venture, Rico, but upon further consideration I don’t believe I’m the right candidate for the position, after all.’
She might need a distraction from her troubles, but not that kind of distraction.
She stiffened when he reached out as if to stop her. He noticed her recoil and reefed his hand back. His lips turned white. ‘Please don’t go, Neen. At least not until I’ve had a chance to apologise.’ He looked away. ‘Though I’m not sure I can explain that even to myself.’
The light in his eyes had disappeared, leaving them dull and flat. As if... She swallowed. As if the emotion he was fighting was destroying some inner part of him. She wanted to flee from the tumult he’d set loose inside her. She wanted to escape the recriminations that swamped her—run from her own compliance and stupidity—but... Those eyes! Whatever recriminations she harboured, he suffered them tenfold.
Composing herself, she set her handbag in her lap and gripped it until her knuckles turned white. ‘You have two minutes. Explain away.’
He pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘I’ve already told you I questioned your commitment to this project...’
She really wanted that dull flatness to be gone from his eyes. A bit of colour in his face wouldn’t go astray either.
‘Which is why I wasn’t your first choice.’
She didn’t know how she knew that, just that she did. She wondered exactly how far down his list she had been.
‘And yet you’ve brought something more important than commitment to this project.’
‘Yes?’ She tried to keep her voice icy, polite.
‘A lack of judgement.’
She folded her arms. ‘I’ll have you know I’m incredibly discerning,’ she bit out.
He stared. And then, incredibly, he smiled and the warmth returned to his eyes. ‘I meant you haven’t judged the boys and you haven’t automatically assumed that this café is doomed to failure.’
Oh. She unfolded her arms. That was all right, then.
‘You’ve brought a sense of...of justice to the table and it’s bowled me over. You’re prepared to judge people on how they act, not on how society perceives them.’
‘Why should that be so surprising?’
‘Because I’m used to working with people like me—we constantly feel as if we’re fighting an uphill battle against prejudice and conservatism.’ He scraped both hands back through his hair. ‘I forgot there are people out there who are willing to make up their own minds.’
She shook her head. The man needed to get out more.
‘I was sitting here waiting for you to say something cutting and derogatory about the boys, for you to tell me I was living in cloud-cuckoo land if I thought the café would succeed. Instead you came up with a no-nonsense solution to a potential problem and I felt...’
She stared at him. What had he felt?
‘Hope.’
Her heart thumped. ‘So you kissed me?’ How long had he been slogging away at this thankless job with so little optimism?
‘It was supposed to be a kiss of gratitude, but...’
She didn’t want his gut-wrenching guilt to return so she kinked an eyebrow. ‘But you were overcome by my animal magnetism, right?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t sell yourself short. You’re an attractive woman. Even if you do try to hide it beneath those prim suits of yours.’
She blinked. She opened her mouth but no sound came out.
‘I am truly sorry for my utter lack of professionalism. Like I said, I can barely explain it to myself. All I can say is that I’m mortified.’
‘I can.’
He stared.
‘Explain it,’ she clarified. She sat back, narrowed her eyes and folded her arms. ‘When was the last time you had a holiday? When was the last time you let your hair down and had some fun? When—’ she poked her finger at him ‘—was the last time you had a break from work?’ She’d bet he even worked weekends.
‘I don’t do holidays, Neen. I don’t do breaks or time off. My purpose is to make a difference, not loll about.’
Like her parents, this man ate, breathed and slept his cause. She suddenly scowled. ‘Well, then, you’ll just become another sad, burned-out statistic. Why don’t you save us all some time and throw yourself on a martyr’s pyre right now and be done with it?’
His eyes flashed but she ignored them.
‘You’re not Superman, Rico. Like the rest of us, you’re flesh and blood. If you don’t make some serious changes in your life you’ll wear yourself out.’
‘But at least it’ll be for the greater good.’
His attempt to make light of it set her teeth on edge. ‘Tell that to all the other female staff members you start inappropriately kissing willy-nilly.’
He thrust a finger at her. ‘I can promise you that will never happen again. Ever!’
She tried to ignore the way her stomach dropped.
‘Besides the fact it was appallingly unprofessional, I’m your boss! It’d be wrong of me to give you or any woman the impression I’m in the ma
rket for a relationship when I’m not. I don’t have the time or the room in my life for romance.’
She blinked. Why on earth not?
No curiosity!
He dragged in a breath, but his eyes still glowered at her—which was far better than that awful flatness.
‘Neen, you’re a valuable asset to this project. Please don’t let my behaviour this afternoon induce you to turn your back on this job.’
She stared at him, and then she couldn’t help it—she started to laugh.
‘What’s so damn funny?’
‘You! You don’t know if you even like me, and it galls you to ask me to stick the job out, but—’
‘Of course I like you!’
She didn’t bother calling him a liar. This man had no idea about normal human relationships. He was even worse at them than she was. For some reason that cheered her considerably.
She reflected on her brand-new security system and the promise of self-defence classes...and on the fact that Rico had been too much of a gentleman to refer to the way she’d responded to his kiss—that she’d kissed him back. She wasn’t sure she wanted to, but in spite of herself she liked him.
‘I wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression either on the relationship front,’ she said softly. ‘I’m not ready to test those waters again.’
‘Duly noted,’ he said, just as quietly.
She wanted her life sorted out. She needed to have something of her own to fall back on—like her café—before she ever risked her heart again.
‘Well, as long as we understand each other then I guess you still have yourself a café manager.’
He slumped back in his chair. ‘Thank you.’
But they didn’t shake on it. Touching didn’t seem a good idea.
‘Okay.’ She clapped her hands, trying to become businesslike and workaday again. ‘How quickly do you think you can get in pest exterminators and an electrician?’
‘Tomorrow—Friday at the latest. If they work the weekend the place should be ready for painting on Monday.’
‘Excellent. Why don’t I meet you and the boys at the café at nine on the dot?’
‘If you make it eight-thirty you’ll beat the rush hour on the bridge.’
She rolled her eyes and rose. ‘Eight-thirty, then. And I’ll be leaving the prim suits in my wardrobe and wearing jeans and an old sweater.’
He rose too. ‘Ditto.’
The man actually owned jeans? She’d thought casual clothes might be relegated to the same dark hole as romance. She bit back the sarcastic comment that rose to her lips. What he wore and his views on romance were no concern of hers. They weren’t.
‘Do you have a photograph of Chris?’
She frowned. ‘Why?’
‘I want to know what he looks like. I want to be able to identify him if he starts hanging around the café.’
She hadn’t thought about that. She swallowed and nodded. ‘I’ll bring one on Monday.’
He nodded. ‘Have a good weekend, Neen.’
She didn’t return the sentiment. She doubted he’d heed the thought behind it. ‘See you, Rico.’
When they hit the pavement they turned in opposite directions. Neither of them glanced back.
* * *
Half a dozen boys turned up to help out on Monday. Their eagerness made Rico’s gut clench—and, as usual, a familiar flooding helplessness swamped him. He had to get them off the streets. He had to find them jobs, give them hope. But he couldn’t offer them all jobs. At least not yet. And it didn’t bear thinking about the disasters waiting in the wings for them—drugs, alcohol, violence. And that was just a start!
Neen’s brisk clapping hauled him from his morose brooding. He stared at her and eased air into his cramped lungs.
‘What, precisely, are you hoping we get done today, Rico?’
He pushed his shoulders back. ‘I want to get these walls painted. We’ll need to polish the floors too, eventually.’
Like a lot of the homes in this historic part of Hobart, the floor was made of ancient Tasmanian oak. It would look great when they were through with it.
‘But that had better wait until we’ve painted.’ He grimaced. ‘And the kitchen needs one heck of a clean.’
He was about to suggest they form into two teams—one for the dining room and one for the kitchen—when Neen reached down, picked up the buckets and detergent and started handing them out.
‘Right, then. What we need is hot water, and lots of it, to wash down these walls.’ She pointed. ‘And those dustsheets need to be spread out.’
The boys began to follow orders, some looking amused, some jostling each other and tossing out casual insults. Rico was promptly handed a bucket of soapy water. He opened his mouth, but then with a shake of his head he closed it again and set about washing a wall, all the time aware of Neen and her take-charge attitude. He ground his teeth together. In fact, he was a little too aware of her every movement.
The boys made a lot of noise as they worked. At one point Carl deliberately jostled Luke. Luke tossed a wet cloth back in retaliation, and in the ensuing ruckus a bucket of water went flying, slopping everywhere.
Rico spun around. ‘Pull your heads in! This is a café, not a football field. If you’re not going to take this seriously then you can leave. Now. I have twenty more boys ready to take your places if you don’t want them!’
Twenty? Fatigue hit him, but he kept himself stiff and straight.
Carl scowled. ‘We were just foolin’ around.’
‘Well, stop it and grow up. You’re damn lucky to get this chance. Don’t blow it.’
‘Keep your hair on,’ Luke mumbled.
Travis, the older boy, glared and took a step towards the pair. ‘Problem?’ He cracked his knuckles. Carl and Luke quickly shook their heads and went back to work.
Rico shot a quick glance at Neen, hoping the boys’ behaviour hadn’t put her off. She stared back at him. He swallowed and fought the urge to roll his shoulders.
She ambled over. ‘I didn’t picture you as the type to cry over spilt soapy water.’
He stiffened at the implicit criticism.
‘This programme is important.’ He glared around the room. ‘I need everyone to take it seriously.’
‘Right.’ She drew the word out. ‘And that means we’re not allowed to laugh or have fun?’
He scowled. ‘Of course not.’ He glanced at Carl and Luke, both of whom had their backs resolutely turned to him. Had he been too hard on them?
‘Glad we’ve got that sorted,’ she said.
He suspected it was only an effort of will that prevented her from rolling her eyes.
From then on everyone in the room ignored him. That suited him fine.
As they worked, Neen asked the boys about themselves. Surprisingly, after a while the boys started opening up and answering her.
They didn’t share the nitty-gritty stuff Rico knew about them—the broken homes, the drugs and violence, the poverty—they told her about their favourite football teams and what they liked doing on the weekends, what food they’d like to see served in the café. They told her their dreams. In less than three hours Neen knew more about them than he’d learned in three years.
Except for the nitty-gritty.
Eventually, though, Neen threw her cloth into a bucket and swung to face them all, hands on her hips. ‘Okay, I’ve had enough. I’ve put up with this for too long already.’
Rico turned with narrowed eyes. Who’d stepped out of line this time?
‘We’re setting some ground rules right now. I was going to wait until the café was up and running, but I’m afraid I can’t put up with it. And frankly—’ she stared hard at the boys ‘—I think you could all do with the practice.’
The boys stared at Neen in slack-jawed astonishment. Their shoulders were starting to hitch towards their ears and their faces were starting to shutter. Darn it! She’d been building a great sense of camaraderie with them. It would be better to let him deal with this. Whatever this was.
He took a step forward. ‘Neen—’
She held a hand up, halting him in his tracks.
‘The bad language that has been flying around this room is appalling!’
Shoulders were unhitched in sudden relief. Rico’s did too.
‘Now, those of you who are going to start working in this café—’ the sweep of her right hand took in Travis, Carl, Luke and Jason ‘—and those of you who eventually hope to—’ the sweep of her left hand took in the other two boys ‘—know this. The moment you walk through the front door to start work you will mind your manners and watch your language. If I hear bad language when you’re on duty here you will be out on your ear. You hear me?’
There were murmurs of ‘Yes, Neen...’ ‘Sorry, Neen...’ and ‘No prob, Neen...’ all around the room.
She smiled then. ‘Thank you. I appreciate it.’
That smile hit Rico in the gut and the memory of their illicit kiss flared to life, starting a throb in his groin. He gritted his teeth and turned back to the wall.
He sloshed water over it and scrubbed extra hard. What on earth had possessed him to kiss her? He hadn’t done anything that impulsive since he’d been seventeen years old and in all sorts of trouble.
He glanced at her again, and then turned back to work. He couldn’t explain it, but Neen sparked all his latent bad-boy impulses and brought them to blazing, thundering life. Impulses he’d kept under lock and key for ten long years.
He ground his teeth so hard he was in danger of snapping them. Under lock and key was precisely where he needed to keep those kind of impulses. He couldn’t afford to let them loose in the world again. They’d wreaked enough damage for one lifetime. He wasn’t letting them wreak more.
Darkness filled his vision. Dragging in a breath, he kept scrubbing, and eventually the darkness started to recede.
The Redemption of Rico D'Angelo Page 6