Under The Tuscan Sun...: A Bride for the Italian Boss / Return of the Italian Tycoon / Reunited by a Baby Secret

That brought her back to the suspicion that her sense of destiny wasn’t for the restaurant business, but for this restaurant and these people. If she actually got a job at a restaurant in New York, she couldn’t expect the staff there to treat her this well.

Realizing all her good fortune would stop when she left Mancini’s, her feeling of the “destiny” of belonging in the restaurant business fizzled. She would go home to a tiny apartment, a man whose marriage proposal had scared her and a teaching position that suddenly felt boring.

“Miss Daniella,” Gio said as she approached the podium later that night. “The gentleman at table two would like to speak to the chef.”

She said it calmly, but there was an undercurrent in her voice, as if subtly telling Daniella that this was a problem situation, not a compliment.

She smiled and said, “Thank you, Gio. I’ll handle it.”

She walked over to the table.

The short, stout man didn’t wait for Dani to speak. He immediately said, “My manicotti was dry and tasteless.”

Daniella inclined her head in acknowledgment of his comment. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what happened. I’ll tell the kitchen staff.”

“I want to talk to the chef.”

His loud, obnoxious voice carried to the tables around him. Daniella peeked behind her at the kitchen door, then glanced at the man again. The restaurant had finally freed itself of people curious about Rafe’s temper. The seats had filled with customers eager to taste his food. She would not let his reputation be ruined by a beady-eyed little man who probably wanted a free dinner.

“We’re extremely busy tonight,” she told the gentleman as she looped her fingers around his biceps and gently urged him to stand. “So rather than a chat with the chef, what if I comp your dinner?”

His eyes widened, then returned to normal, as if he couldn’t believe he was getting what he wanted so easily. “You’ll pay my tab?”

She smiled. “The whole meal.” A quick glance at the table told her that would probably be the entire day’s wage, but it would be worth it to avoid a scene.

“I’d like dessert.”

“We’ll get it for you to go.” She nodded to Gio, who quickly put two slices of cake into a take-out container and within seconds the man and his companion were gone.

* * *

Rafe watched from the sliver of a crack he created when he pushed open the kitchen door a notch. He couldn’t hear what Dani said, but he could see her calm demeanor, her smiles, the gentle but effective way she removed the customer from Rafe’s dining room without the other patrons being any the wiser.

He laughed and Emory walked over.

“What’s funny?”

“Dani just kicked somebody out.”

Emory’s eyes widened. “We had a scene?”

“That’s the beauty of it. Even though he started off yelling, she got him out without causing even a ripple of trouble. I’ll bet the people at the adjoining tables weren’t even aware of what was happening beyond his initial grousing.”

“She is worth her weight in gold.”

Rafe pondered that. “Gio made the choice to get her rather than come to me.”

Emory said, “She trusts Dani.”

He walked away, leaving Rafe with that simple but loaded thought.

At the end of the night, the waitstaff quickly finished their cleanup and began leaving before the kitchen staff. Rafe glanced at the bar, thought about a glass of wine and decided against it. Instead, he walked to the podium as Dani collected her purse.

He waited for the waitresses on duty to leave before he faced Dani.

“You did very well tonight.”

“Thank you.”

“I saw you get rid of the irate customer.”

She winced. “I had to offer to pay for his meal.”

“I’ll take care of that.”

Her gaze met his, tripping the weird feeling in his chest again.

“Really?”

“Yes.” He sucked in a breath, reminding himself he didn’t want the emotions she inspired in him. He wanted a good hostess. He didn’t want a fling with another man’s woman.

“I trust your judgment. If not charging for his food avoided a scene, I’m happy to absorb the cost.”

“Thanks.”

He glanced away, then looked back at her. “Your duties just keep growing.”

“Is this your subtle way of telling me I overstepped?”

He shook his head. “You take work that Emory and I would have to do. Things we truly do not have time for.”

“Which is good?”

“Yes. Very good.” He gazed into her pretty blue eyes and fought the desire to kiss her that crept up before he could stop it. His restaurant was becoming exactly what he’d envisioned because of her. Because she knew how to direct diners’ attention and mood. It was as if they were partners in his venture and though the businessman in him desperately fought his feelings for her, the passionate part of him wanted to lift her off the ground, swing her around and kiss her ardently.

But that was wrong for so many reasons that he got angry with himself for even considering it.

“I was thinking tonight that a differentiation between you and the waitresses would be good. It would be a show of authority.”

“You want me to wear a hat?”

He laughed. Was it any wonder he was so drawn to her? No one could so easily catch him off guard. Make him laugh. Make him wish for a life that included a little more fun.

“I want you to wear something other than the dark trousers and white blouses the waitresses wear. Your choice,” he said when her face turned down with a puzzled frown. “A dress. A suit. Anything that makes you look like you’re in charge.”

Her gaze rose to meet his. “In charge?”

“Of the dining room.” He laughed lightly. “You still have a few weeks before I give you my job.”

She laughed, too.

But when her laughter died, they were left gazing into each other’s eyes. The mood shifted from happy and businesslike to something he couldn’t define or describe. The click of connection he always felt with her filled him. It was hot and sweet, but pointless, leaving an emptiness in the pit of his stomach.

He said, “Good night, Dani,” and walked away, into the kitchen and directly to the window over the sink. A minute later, he watched her amble across the parking lot to her car, start it and drive off, making sure she had no trouble.

Then he locked the restaurant and headed to his SUV.

He might forever remember the joy in her blue eyes when he told her that he wanted her to look like the person of authority in the dining room.

But as he climbed into his vehicle, his smile faded. Here he was making her happy, giving her promotions, authority, and just when he should have been able to kiss her to celebrate, he’d had to pull back...because she was taken.

Was he crazy to keep her on, to continually promote her, to need her for his business when it was clear that there was no chance of a relationship between them?

Was he being a sucker?

Was she using him?

Bah! What the hell was he doing? Thinking about things that didn’t matter? The woman was leaving in a few weeks. And that was the real reason he should worry about depending on her. Soon she would be gone. So why were he and Emory leaning on her?

Glad he had more maître d’ interviews scheduled for the following Monday, he started his car and roared out of the parking lot. He would use what he had learned about Dani’s duties for his new maître d’. But he wouldn’t give her any more authority.

And he absolutely would stop all thoughts about wanting to swing her around, kiss her and enjoy their success. It was not “their” success. It was his.

It was also her choice to have no part in it.

* * *

Sunday morning, Dani arrived at the restaurant in a slim cream-colored dress. She had curled her hair and pinned it in a bundle on top of her head. When Rafe saw her his jaw fell.

She looked regal, sophisticated. Perfect as the face of his business.

Emory whistled. “My goodness.”

Rafe’s breath stuttered into his lungs. He reminded himself of his thoughts from the night before. She was leaving. She wanted no part in his long-term success. He and Emory were depending on her too much for someone who had no plans to stay.

But most of all, leaving was her choice.

She didn’t want him or his business in her life. She was here only for some money so she could find the relatives of her foster mother.

The waitresses tittered over how great she looked. Emory walked to the podium, took her hands and kissed both of her cheeks. The busboys blushed every time she was near.

She handled it with a cool grace that spoke of dignity and sophistication. Exactly what he wanted as the face of Mancini’s. As if she’d read his mind.

Laughing with Allegra, she said, “I feel like I’m playing dress up. These are Louisa’s clothes. I don’t own anything so pretty.”

Allegra sighed with appreciation. “Well, they’re perfect for you and your new position.”

She laughed again. “Rafe and Emory only promoted me because I have time on my hands in between customers. While you guys are hustling, I’m sort of looking around, figuring things out.” She leaned in closer. “Besides, the extra authority doesn’t come with more money.”

As Allegra laughed, Rafe realized that was true. Unless Dani was a power junkie, she wasn’t getting anything out of her new position except more work.

So why did she look so joyful in a position she’d be leaving in a few weeks?

Sunday lunch was busier than normal. Customers came in, ate, chatted with Dani and left happy.

Which relieved Rafe and also caused him to internally scold himself for distrusting her. He didn’t know why she’d taken such an interest in his restaurant, but he should be glad she had.

She didn’t leave for the space between the last lunch customer and the first dinner customer because the phone never stopped ringing.

Again, Rafe relaxed a bit. She had good instincts. Now that his restaurant was catching on, there were more dinner reservations. She stayed to take them. She was a good, smart employee. Any mistrust he had toward her had to be residual bad feelings over not being able to pursue her when he so desperately wanted to. His fault. Not hers.

In fact, part of him believed he should apologize. Or maybe not apologize. Since she couldn’t see inside his brain and know the crazy thoughts he’d been thinking, a compliment would work better.

He walked out of the kitchen to the podium and smiled when he saw she was on the phone. Their reservations for that night would probably be their best ever.

“So we’re talking about a hundred people.”

Rafe’s eyebrows rose. A hundred people? He certainly hoped that wasn’t a single reservation for that night. Yes, there was a private room in which he could probably seat a hundred, but because that room was rarely used, those tables and chairs needed to be wiped down. Extra linens would have to be ordered from their vendor. Not to mention enough food. He needed advance warning to serve a hundred people over their normal customer rate.

He calmed himself. She didn’t know that the room hadn’t been used in months and would need a good dusting. Or about the linens. Or the extra food. Once he told her, they could discuss the limits on reservations.

When she finally replaced the receiver on the phone, her blue eyes glowed.

Need rose inside him. Once again he fought the unwanted urge to share the joy of success with her. No matter how he sliced it, she was a big part of building his clientele. And rather than worry about her leaving, a smart businessman would be working to entice her to stay. To make his business her career, and Italy her new home.

Romantic notions quickly replaced his business concerns. If she made Italy her home, she might just leave her fiancé in America, and he could—

Realizing he wasn’t just getting ahead of himself, he was going in the wrong direction, he forced himself to be professional. “It sounds like you got us a huge reservation.”

“Better.”

He frowned. “Better? How does something get better than a hundred guests for dinner?”

She grinned. “By catering a wedding! They don’t even need our dishes and utensils. The venue is providing that. All they want is food. And for you that’s easy.”

Rafe blinked. “What?”

“Okay, it’s like this. A customer came in yesterday. The dinner they chose was what his wife wanted to be served for their daughter’s wedding at the end of the month. When they ate your meal, they knew they wanted you to cook food for their daughter’s wedding. The bride’s dad called, I took down the info,” she said, handing him a little slip. “And now we have a new arm of your business.”

Anything romantic he felt for Dani shrank back against the rising tide of red-hot anger.

“I am not a caterer.”

He controlled his voice, didn’t yell, didn’t pounce. But he saw recognition come to Dani’s eyes. She might have only worked with him almost two weeks, but she knew him.

Her fingers fluttered to her throat. “I thought you’d be pleased.”

“I have a business plan. I have Michelin stars to protect. I will not send my food out into the world for God knows who to do God knows what with it.”

She swallowed. “You could go to the wedding—”

“And leave the restaurant?”

She sucked in a breath.

“Call them back and tell them you checked with me and we can’t deliver.”

“But... I...” She swallowed again. “They needed a commitment. Today. I gave our word.”

He gaped at her. “You promised something without asking me?” It was the cardinal sin. The unforgivable sin. Promising something that hadn’t been approved because she’d never consulted the boss. Every employee knew that. She hadn’t merely overstepped. She’d gone that one step too far.

Her voice was a mere whisper when she said, “Yes.”

Anger mixed with incredulity at her presumptuousness, and he didn’t hesitate. With his dream in danger, he didn’t even have to think about it. “You’re fired.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

“LEAVE NOW.”

Dani’s breaths came in quick, shallow puffs. No one wanted to be fired. But right at that moment she wasn’t concerned about her loss. Her real upset came from failing Rafe. She’d thought he’d be happy with the added exposure. Instead, she’d totally misinterpreted the situation. Contrary to her success in the dining room, she wasn’t a chef. She didn’t know a chef’s concerns. She had no real restaurant experience.

Still, she had instincts—

Didn’t she?

“I’ll fix this.”

He turned away. “This isn’t about fixing the problem. This is about you truly overstepping this time. I don’t know if it’s because we’ve had personal conversations or because to this point all of your ideas have been good. But no one, absolutely no one, makes such an important decision without my input. You are fired.”

He walked into the kitchen without looking back. Dani could have followed him, maybe even should have followed him, but the way he walked away hurt so much she couldn’t move. She could barely breathe. Not because she’d angered him over a mistake, but because he was so cool. So distant. So deliberate and so sure that he wanted her gone. As if their evenings at the tavern hadn’t happened, as if all those stolen moments—that kiss—had meant nothing, he was tossing her out of his life.

Tears stung her eyes. The pain that gripped her hurt like a physical ache.

But common sense weaved its way into her thoughts. Why was she taking this personally? She didn’t love him. She barely knew him. She had a fiancé—almost. A guy who might not be romantic, but who was certainly stable. She’d be going home in a little over two weeks. There could be nothing between her and Rafe. He was passion wrapped in electricity. Moody. Talented. Sweet but intense. Too sexy for his own good—or hers. And they weren’t supposed to be attracted to each other, but they were.

Staying at Mancini’s had been like tempting fate. Teasing both of them with something they couldn’t have. Making them tense, and him moody. Hot one minute and cold the next.

So maybe it really was time to go?

She slammed the stack of menus into their shelf of the podium, grabbed her purse and raced out.

When she arrived at the villa, Louisa was on a ladder, staring at the watermarks as if she could divine how they got there.

“What are you doing home?”

Dani yanked the pins holding up her short curls and let them fall to her chin, as she kicked off Louisa’s high, high heels.

“I was fired.”

Louisa climbed off the ladder. “What?” She shook her head. “He told you to dress like the authority in the dining room and you were gorgeous. How could he not like how you looked?”

“Oh, I think he liked how I looked.” Dani sucked in a breath, fully aware now that that was the problem. They were playing with fire. They liked each other. But neither of them wanted to. And she was done with it.

“Come to Rome with me.”

“You’re not going to try to get your job back?”

“It just all fell into place in my head. Rafe and I are attracted, but my boyfriend asked me to marry him. Though I didn’t accept, I can’t really be flirting with another guy. So Rafe—”

Louisa drew in a quick breath. “You know, I wasn’t going to mention this because it’s not my business, but now that you brought it up... Don’t you think it’s kind of telling that you hopped on a plane to Italy rather than accept your boyfriend’s proposal?”

“I already had this trip scheduled.”

“Do you love this guy?”

Dani hesitated, thinking of her last conversation with Paul and how he’d ordered her not to call him anymore. The real kicker wasn’t his demand. It was that it hadn’t affected her. She didn’t miss their short, irrelevant conversations. In six months, she hadn’t really missed him.

Oh, God. That was the thing her easy, intense attraction to Rafe was really pointing out. Her relationship to Paul might provide a measure of security, but she didn’t love him.

She fell to a kitchen chair.

“Oh, sweetie. If you didn’t jump up and down for joy when this guy proposed, and you find yourself attracted to another man, you do not want to accept that proposal.”

Dani slumped even further in her seat. “I know.”

“You should go back to Mancini’s and tell Rafe that.”

She shook her head fiercely. “No. No! He’s way too much for me. Too intense. Too everything. He has me working twelve-hour days when I’m supposed to be on holiday finding my foster mother’s relatives, enjoying some time with them before I go home.”

“You’re leaving me?”

Dani raised her eyes to meet Louisa’s. “You’ve always known I was only here for a month. I have just over two weeks left. I need to start looking for the Felice family now.” She smiled hopefully because she suddenly, fervently didn’t want to be alone, didn’t want the thoughts about Rafe that would undoubtedly haunt her now that she knew she couldn’t accept Paul’s proposal. “Come with me.”

“To Rome?”

“You need a break from studying everything that’s wrong with the villa. I have to pay for a room anyway. We can share it. Then we can come back and I’ll still have time to help you catalog everything that needs to be fixed.”

Louisa’s face saddened. “And then you’ll catch a plane and be gone for good.”

Dani rose. “Not for good.” She caught Louisa’s hands. “We’re friends. You’ll stay with me when you have to come back to the States. I’ll visit you here in Italy.”

Louisa laughed. “I really could use a break from staring at so many things that need repairing and trying to figure out how I’m going to get it all done.”

“So it’s set. Let’s pack now and go.”

Within an hour, they were at the bus station. With Mancini’s and Rafe off the list of conversation topics, they chitchatted about the scenery that passed by as their bus made its way to Rome. Watching Louisa take it all in, as if trying to memorize the country in which she now owned property, a weird sense enveloped Dani. It was clear that everything was new, unique to Louisa. But it all seemed familiar to Dani, as if she knew the trees and grass and chilly February hills, and when she returned to the US she would miss them.

Which was preposterous. She was a New York girl. She needed the opportunities a big city provided. She’d never lived in the country. So why did every tree, every landmark, every winding road seem to fill a need inside her?

The feeling followed her to Rome. To the alleyways between the quaint buildings. To the sidewalk cafés and bistros. To the Colosseum, museums and fountains she took Louisa to see.

And suddenly the feeling named itself. Home. What she felt on every country road, at every landmark, gazing at every blue, blue sky and grassy hill was the sense that she was home.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She told herself she wasn’t home. She was merely familiar with Italy now because she’d lived in Rome for months. Though that made her feel better for a few minutes, eventually she realized that being familiar with Rome didn’t explain why she’d felt she belonged at Mancini’s.

She shoved that thought away. She did not belong at Mancini’s.

The next day, Dani and Louisa found Rosa’s family and were invited to supper. The five-course meal began, reminding her of Rafe, of his big, elaborate dinners, the waitresses who were becoming her friends, the customers who loved her.The weepy sense that she had lost her home filled her. Rightly or wrongly, she’d become attached to Mancini’s, but Rafe had fired her.

She had lost the place where she felt strong and smart and capable. The place where she was making friends who felt like family. The place where she—no matter how unwise—was falling for a guy who made her breath stutter and her knees weak.

Because the guy she felt so much for had fired her.

Her brave facade fell away and she excused herself. In the bathroom, she slid down the wall and let herself cry. She’d never been so confused in her life.

* * *

“Rafe, there’s a customer who’d like to talk to you.”

Rafe set down his knife and walked to Mila, who stood in front of the door that led to the dining room. “Great, let’s go.”

Pleased to be getting a compliment, he reached around Mila and pushed open the door for her. Since Dani had gone, compliments had been fewer and farther between. He needed the boost.

Mila paused by a table with two twentysomething American girls. Wearing thick sweaters and tight jeans, they couldn’t hide their tiny figures. Or their ages. Too old for college and too young to have amassed their own fortunes, they appeared to be the daughters of wealthy men, in Europe, spending their daddies’ money. Undoubtedly, they’d heard of him. Bored and perhaps interested in playing with a celebrity chef, they might be looking for some fun. If he handled this right, one of them could be sharing Chianti with him that night.

Ignoring the tweak of a reminder of sharing that wine with Dani, her favorite, he smiled broadly. “What can I do for you ladies?”

“Your ravioli sucked.”

That certainly was not what he’d expected.

He bowed slightly, having learned a thing or two from his former hostess. He ignored the sadness that shot through him at even the thought of her, and said, “Allow me to cover your bill.”

“Cover our bill?” The tiny blonde lifted a ravioli with her fork and let it plop to her plate. “You should pay us for enduring even a bite of this drivel.”

The dough of that ravioli had serenaded his palms as he worked it. The sweet sauce had kissed his tongue. The problem wasn’t his food but the palates of the diners.

Still, remembering Dani, he held his temper as he gently reached down and took the biceps of the blonde. “My apologies.” He subtly guided her toward the door. The woman was totally cooperative until they got to the podium, and then she squirmed as if he was hurting her, and made a hideous face. Her friend snapped a picture with her phone.