A Bride For The Italian Boss

She said, “We were young.” But her gaze clung to his.

They weren’t young now. They were both free. A world of opportunities awaited him, and her responsibilities to her sister had been fulfilled.

Would it really be so wrong to try again?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Lily scampered out of the kitchen, careful not to slosh her soup. But as the door swung closed behind her, she heard Chef Rafe say, “I thought we decided it is best for you to stay away from her?”

Mic said, “Yeah.” He paused a second, as if considering that, then he said, “But we’re not kids and I’m only here for a few weeks. There’s nothing wrong with us spending some time together.”

Her steps faltered. Another woman might have been insulted that he was thinking of her only as a lover. Maybe even entertainment while he was here. Not someone to keep in his life permanently. But she knew the past would never allow them to have another relationship. And if that wasn’t enough, he was going to Paris and in a few months she’d be renting out her condo and moving to Florence. But she still desperately wanted her one more night.

So when Mila suggested they go to Pia’s Tavern after work and she heard Mic agreeing, she accepted the invitation too. Except she didn’t go directly from Mancini’s to Pia’s. She raced to her condo, showered, fixed her hair and put on makeup and her best jeans and sweater before she left for the local tavern.

When she entered, the short, round bartender was adjusting the channel on the television above the shelves of whiskey, gin and rum behind the shiny wood bar. Flames from the old stone fireplace in the back kept the January cold at bay. In the far corner, playing darts, was the crew from Mancini’s.

As Lily’s eyes adjusted to the light, she noticed everybody but Rafe seemed to have needed the night out. Their demanding, hyper-vigilant chef was not in attendance.

But Mic was. He’d taken off his chef’s smock and wore jeans and a bright blue sweater that made the color of his eyes seem even bluer. He stood beside Allegra, holding her arm back, showing her how to throw a dart, but Lily didn’t get jealous of the intimate pose. She knew when Mic was romantically interested in someone. A certain look came to his eyes. That look wasn’t there for Allegra.

She slid out of her old black wool coat, hung it on a convenient hook near the dartboard.

When Mic heard her, he glanced up.

“Wanna buy a friend a beer?”

His eyes darkened, then warmed, and she smiled. That was the look he got when he was interested in someone.

“Sure.”

He motioned for the bartender, who came and took orders. Lily ambled to a table when the bartender brought her beer and Mic followed her.

He slid to the seat across from her. “You changed clothes.”

She smiled. “I don’t get out much. I wanted to look nice.”

“Liar. You changed for me.”

She laughed. “So you’re getting smart enough not to accept my silly lies.”

“The last one wasn’t silly.”

“No, but I thought it was necessary.” She sucked in a breath to change the conversation. She didn’t want to talk about the past or the future. She wanted to be with him. “And here we are. Eight years later. Eight years smarter. And neither one of us coy.” She met his gaze. “Would you like to come back to my condo with me?”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Mic almost spit out his beer. He wanted nothing more than to go back to Lily’s condo with her.

It was what she wanted. He could see it in her eyes. But something wasn’t quite right. They’d never made love just for sex. It had always been about love. And what she suggested now, a hook up, gave him an odd feeling he couldn’t quite interpret.

So he left the decision to chance. “How about if we play darts for it?”

She laughed. “What?”

“If you beat me, we do as you wish.”

She rose from the table. “Wow. I’ve never had a man turn me down before.”

Jealousy speared his heart as he also rose. “There have been many?”

She laughed and took his arm, leading him to the dartboard. “There was no one.”

He said, “What?” but she ignored him, walking to the board and removing the darts for them to play.

The thought that she’d spent eight years celibate rattled through him. Confusion destroyed his dart game, and she easily beat him. And he wondered if that hadn’t actually been her plan.

He met her gaze. “Looks like you get your wish.”

She smiled and reached for her coat on the hook, but he grabbed it before she could and held it for her to slide on. “So we go back to your condo now?”

She turned, her eyes bright with humor. “You must be invited again?”

His heart kicked. He hadn’t realized how much he’d longed for her smile, her presence, until that very second. With the pretense gone and all questions answered, he just wanted to be with her.

“No. I don’t need to be asked twice.”

She headed for the exit. He followed her, opening the door when they reached it, and she walked into the cold night.

Still, as much as he wanted to be with her, something about this troubled him.

“So you worked for Signor Bartolini for eight years?”

“Actually he died a while back. But Melony and I were there for years. He made his home our home.”

He took comfort in that, and relaxed a little. But her statement that there had been no one for her since their relationship popped into his head again, haunting him in a way he couldn’t quite figure out.

She’d spent the time they were apart truly alone. A sign that she’d had trouble forgetting him—forgetting what they’d had. She’d genuinely sacrificed so he could live his dream. The power of it humbled him.

He pulled the collar up on his jacket. “It’s really cold.”

She shoved her hands into the pockets of her simple black wool coat. “Our coldest January in a long time.”

Moonlight spilled over the streets and the glistening water of the fountain.

“You never did tell me your wish.”

“Because I want it to come true.”

He laughed and caught her hand, joy filling his heart. Maybe the thing to do would be forget the past and let this night happen.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

They walked into her building bundled together like longtime lovers sharing secrets. When they entered the elevator, Mic caught her hand, swung her to face him and kissed her. She murmured her pleasure, and he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue across hers, sending chill bumps to her toes.

The elevator bell rang. She heard the doors swish open, but they didn’t stop kissing. Feelings and sensations returned in long, elegant waves of arousal that wound through her, warming her and filling her heart with joy.

The elevator door swished closed again, but Rafe pulled away and swatted the “open” button. As the doors slid apart again, he scooped Lily into his arms.

“Which door?”

“Two,” she said, nuzzling her nose into his neck which was scented with a combination of aftershave and man. She would have thought this a dream, but the muscles beneath her fingers were solid and strong. He was solid and strong. She’d missed him in a way that had slowed her heartbeat and stolen her soul, and now he was here and she was in his arms.

Easy strides took him to her door. She rummaged in her jeans pocket for the key and, leaning back, punched it into the lock and opened the door.

He stepped inside, took a quick glance at her simple furnishings and said, “Nice.” But he didn’t slow his steps. He strode back the short hall to the last room and dumped her on the bed.

She squealed with delight and rolled away when he would have fallen on her, a game they used to play all those years ago. He caught her arm and brought her back to him, but she scooted away again. They tumbled across the bed like two kids before he finally stopped them by pinning her beneath him.

“You’re beautiful. You know that, right?”

It was so wonderful, so perfect, to feel his weight on her, to feel his heartbeat thrumming down into her breast. “Only you think so.”

He blew his breath out in a sound of disbelief. “You don’t look around. I see how the apprentices and cooks stare at you. Not to mention customers.”

“Then maybe you should kiss me to make sure I never notice them.”

He laughed and did as she’d asked, but not in the playful way she’d expected. The kiss was slow and deep, merging their mouths, awakening their souls. A lazy haze enveloped her. When he pulled away, she caught his arm to stop him.

“Coat,” he said, jerking off his jacket.

She quickly reached for the buttons of her black wool coat, but he nudged her hands away so he could undo them. As each popped, a piece of her coat slid away. His eyes darkened.

She levered herself up, so he could remove the garment. But she didn’t wait painstaking minutes he was taking. She sat up a little more, put her hands at the bottom of her sweater and jerked it over her head.

He kissed her then. Desire trembled through her, along with her first shadow of doubt. After their breakup, she hadn’t been able to even look at a man in eight years. Was it smart to spend one more night with the man who seemed to ruin her for other men?

Mic awakened hours later. He glanced at the clock. Three-thirty. He needed to be at Mancini’s at seven, but he couldn’t get himself to move. Snuggled into his side was beautiful Lily, the only woman he’d ever loved.

As he got out of bed to dress, he took in her simple bedroom. Airy lace curtains. A comforter of soft colors for beauty and warmth. Thick rugs on hardwood floors. Dressed now, he walked into the living room, seeing it was the same. Warm colors. Simple furniture that spoke of ease and use. No showpiece. No art. Her apartment was a home.

He hadn’t thought of home in a long time. And knew that was because the only woman he had ever wanted to settle down with was in the room down the hall.

There were no ifs, no buts, no ands, no maybes. His life was exciting, but cold and frequently empty. Lily filled up the empty spaces in his heart, gave his life meaning … gave him a sense that he wasn’t just a piece of talent. He was somebody.

Fate had given him another chance to have the woman he loved. And if he walked away without asking her to marry him, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Lily was just about asleep again when Mic returned to the bedroom. Eyes closed, she rolled to her side. “I thought you were leaving. Did you forget something?”

“Yes.”

She felt his weight on the bed beside her and opened her eyes.

“I forgot something very, very important.”

“Really? You look totally dressed to me. Is there a sock under the bed?”

“No.” He glanced away then gazed at her again. “Have you ever thought about the future?”

She laughed. “Of course, I think about the future.”

“No. I mean do you ever really think about the future.” He motioned to the bed. “How this affects our future?”

She studied his serious face, the odd look in his eyes. She had no idea what could take him from her happy lover to this serious man … then it hit her. She and Mic hadn’t ever had a one-night stand. They’d been serious about each other from their first night. Lovers who intended to marry. This night didn’t fit them.

“You worry that you’re going to hurt me.”

“I do not intend to hurt you again.”

His serious tone pinched her heart. There was no way she’d let him regret making love. No way she’d have him leave thinking she was a charity case. She wasn’t.

Before he could say anything, she sat up. “Look, Melony isn’t the only one who got money for school from Signor Bartolini. I let Melony get enrolled and settle in before me to give her a sense of freedom, a chance to find friends without me hanging about. But next month I’ll be joining her in Florence.”

His face fell. “You’re going to school?”

She stroked his arm. “Yes. I get to live my dream too.”

He studied her face. “You have a dream?”

“You think I didn’t?” She sat up a little farther in bed, determined not to let him feel sorry for her or regret their time together, even though her heart splintered. Did he really have so little feeling for her that he didn’t see how this conversation would hurt her? Especially since there was a part of her that wanted to say, “Take me to Paris with you.”

But he wouldn’t take her to Paris with him. He wouldn’t be so bold as to ask again, and she wouldn’t be so humiliated as to beg.

“I love art. I visited so many museums that I swear I know more than the curators.” She laughed, working to hide the weird feeling in her heart that nudged her to admit she loved him and beg him to give her a second chance. She had to preserve her pride. She’d known this was only a one-night thing. She could not embarrass herself. “That’s what I want to be.”

“And you have already enrolled?”

“Si. Tuition is paid. I am okay, Mic.” She squeezed his arm. “You do not have to take care of me or worry about me. I’m very good alone.”

He rose from the bed. His eyes skimmed her face and she prayed for the strength not to cry.

“And this is what you want?”

She nodded. “This is what I want.”

“You are sure?”

She nodded again.

He ran his hand along the back of his neck. “Okay, then.” He turned to the door. “I will see you at Mancini’s.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Mic cursed the cruelties of fate when Lily arrived at Mancini’s a few hours after him. He had, it seemed, lost his chance. For one shining moment in time eight years ago, his path and Lily’s path had synced. But because he’d gotten hurt rather than investigate why she refused his marriage proposal, he had lost her. After the sacrifice she’d made so that he could live his dream, he could not deprive her of hers by asking her to forget university and move to Paris with him.

But it was hard to work with her, to watch her happily go through the day as if nothing was wrong when his heart was broken. So he was glad when the call came in from his aunt, telling him that her condo had sold.

Not wasting a second, he thanked Rafe for giving him something to do for the weeks that could have been long and boring. Then he walked into the dining room to find Lily.

When he called her name, she faced him with a smile.

“My aunt’s condo sold.”

Her happy smile faded. “Oh.”

He shrugged into his jacket. “I am leaving.”

“You’re leaving now?” She blinked. “I thought maybe you could come by again tonight.”

He couldn’t handle the pain of it. He especially couldn’t trust himself not to beg her to give up her dream and follow him to Paris.

“I must leave now.”

He turned and walked out of Mancini’s, his heart hurting, but proud of himself for not asking her to give up her dream for him.

He drove to the condo and packed his duffel bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he walked to his car, got in and headed for Paris.

Lily fell to a chair in the dining room. Mila raced over. “Are you okay?”

“He’s gone.”

Mila glanced at the door. “You mean, Chef Mic?”

“Si.” Seeing the confused look on Mila’s face, Lily bounced out of her chair. She hadn’t played such a good role in the bedroom that morning for Mic, only to ruin it this afternoon by falling apart in front of her friends.

She pasted a smile on her face as she fought the sting of tears. “I am fine.”

But she wasn’t fine. Losing him the first time had killed her, but letting him go this time had a ring of finality to it. He would never be back … and even if he did come back to visit Rafe, neither of them would be so foolish as to let their heart get involved again.

Mic only got five miles before he cursed and slapped the steering wheel. He could not believe fate was so cruel to bring them together only to tear them apart.

But he also knew he could not ask her to sacrifice for him one more time. She had a life, dreams …

Hell, she had a right to her dreams. God knew, he was living his. There were no fewer than eight restaurants that wanted him. He could—and had—named his price. While she’d been stuck in Monte Calanetti, he could go anywhere he wanted—

He stopped his thoughts. He could go anywhere he wanted. Including Florence. He might not be able to ask her to give up her dream for him, but he sure could give up one little restaurant for her.

He turned his car around with a screech of tires.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Lily pulled herself together as best she could, but it wasn’t good enough. She needed to go home and cry this out.

She walked into the kitchen to ask Chef Rafe if she could have the afternoon off, but the back door opened and Mic walked in.

Her heart sped up, then slowed to a crawl. He was probably back for something he forgot. She turned and raced out of the kitchen just in time to see Gino escort customers to a table. She grabbed her order pad.

She got as far as saying, “Today’s specials are …” when she was lifted off her feet and swung around.

She blinked a few times and Mic’s face came into focus. “Mic?”

“Si.”

“What are you doing!”

“I’m taking you with me.”

“To Paris?” At first the idea thrilled her. She couldn’t bear to be without him. Then the whole thing sunk in. He was taking her to a city she didn’t know with no promise of a future. No mention of love.

“Put me down!”

“No. I lost you once. I’m not losing you again.” The words were nice, sweet, and filled her heart with such hope it almost burst, but they weren’t enough.

“I’m not going to Paris.”

“Good because I’m not going to Paris either.”

By this point, they were at Gino’s Maître D podium. He reached behind him and slid her coat off its hanger. Handing it to her, usually gruff Gino grinned. “It’s cold out there. You’re going to need this.”

She caught the coat as they whipped by Gino. “Mic!”

He set her down beside his car. “Eight years ago, you gave us up so I could live my dream. Now, I give up one measly restaurant so you can live your dream.”

She blinked. “What?”

“I can work anywhere I want!” He waved his arms as if to indicate the world. “I have two offers in Florence.”

“And you’re coming with me?”

“No. We’re going together. We’re getting married. And then we’ll both live our dreams.”

Her mouth fell. Her head spun. Her heart almost believed him. “But we don’t know each other.”

“We’ve always known each other.” He paused, stepped closer. “Always loved each other.” He laid his hand on her chest. “Your heart tells me.”

Her lips trembled.

“You don’t believe me?”

When she said nothing, he shook his head. “What is wrong?”

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Say … that I love you?” He laughed. “I love you. I adore you. I have always adored you. And I will not let you tell me no this time.”

A laugh broke through her tears. She bounced to her tiptoes and threw her arms around him. “Then I say yes. Yes. I love you. Yes, I will marry you.”

She barely got the words out of her mouth before he kissed her and for the first time in eight years Lily Norelli was whole again.

A Bride for the

Italian Boss

Susan Meier

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

ITALY HAD TO BE the most beautiful place in the world.

Daniella Tate glanced around in awe at the cobblestone streets and blue skies of Florence. She’d taken a train here, but now had to board a bus for the village of Monte Calanetti.

After purchasing her ticket, she strolled to a wooden bench. But as she sat, she noticed a woman a few rows over, with white-blond hair and a slim build. The woman stared out into space; the faraway look in her eyes triggered Daniella’s empathy. Having grown up a foster child, she knew what it felt like to be alone, sometimes scared, usually confused. And she saw all three of those emotions in the woman’s pretty blue eyes.

An announcement for boarding the next bus came over the public address system. An older woman sitting beside the blonde rose and slid her fingers around the bag sitting at her feet. The pretty blonde rose, too.

“Excuse me. That’s my bag.”

The older woman spoke in angry, rapid-fire Italian and the blonde, speaking American English, said, “I’m sorry. I don’t understand a word of what you’re saying.”

But the older woman clutched the bag to her and very clearly told the American that it was her carry-on.

Daniella bounced from her seat and scurried over. She faced the American. “I speak Italian, perhaps I can help?” Then she turned to the older woman. In flawless Italian, she asked if she was sure the black bag was hers, because there was a similar bag on the floor on the other side.

The older woman flushed with embarrassment. She apologetically gave the bag to the American, grabbed her carry-on and scampered off to catch her bus.

The pretty blonde sighed with relief and turned her blue eyes to Daniella. “Thank you.”

“No problem. When you responded in English it wasn’t a great leap to assume you didn’t speak the language.”

The woman’s eyes clouded. “I don’t.”

“Do you have a friend coming to meet you?”

“No.”

Dani winced. “Then I hope you have a good English-to-Italian dictionary.”

The American pointed to a small listening device. “I’ve downloaded the ‘best’ language system.” She smiled slightly. “It promises I’ll be fluent in five weeks.”

Dani laughed. “It could be a long five weeks.” She smiled and offered her hand. “I’m Daniella, by the way.”

The pretty American hesitated, but finally shook Daniella’s hand and said, “Louisa.”

“It’s my first trip to Italy. I’ve been teaching English in Rome, but my foster mother was from Tuscany. I’m going to use this final month of my trip to find her home.”

Louisa tilted her head. “Your foster mother?”

Dani winced. “Sorry. I’m oversharing.”

Louisa smiled.

“It’s just that I’m so excited to be here. I’ve always wanted to visit Italy.” She didn’t mention that her longtime boyfriend had proposed the day before she left for her teaching post in Rome. That truly would be oversharing, but also she hadn’t known what to make of Paul’s request to marry him. Had he proposed before her trip to tie her to him? Or had they hit the place in their relationship where marriage really was the next step? Were they ready? Was marriage right for them?

Too many questions came with his offer of marriage. So she hadn’t accepted. She’d told him she would answer him when she returned from Italy. She’d planned this February side trip to be a nice, uncomplicated space of time before she settled down to life as a teacher in the New York City school system. Paul had ruined it with a proposal she should have eagerly accepted, but had stumbled over. So her best option was not to think about it until she had to.

Next month.

“I extended my trip so I could have some time to bum around. See the village my foster mother came from, and hopefully meet her family.”

To Daniella’s surprise, Louisa laughed. “That sounds like fun.”

The understanding in Louisa’s voice caused Danielle to brighten again, thinking they had something in common. “So you’re a tourist, too?”

“No.”

Dani frowned. Louisa’s tone in that one simple word suddenly made her feel as if she’d crossed a line. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry.”