All the Way

by

Jennifer Probst

Music, like books, has changed me in ways for the better. Thanks to all who fill the world with such beauty in every format.

For Frank, an icon that never loses his magic. You inspired a young girl to dream of love and beauty and passion and live a big life. To not only taste the wine, but drain the dregs dry. I should’ve known the best was yet to come.

To my husband, who I have always loved…all the way.

Chapter One

“Hey, Gavin, can you take table three?”

Gavin Luciano turned to face his younger brother, Brando. A familiar combination of pleading and rebellion shone from dark brown eyes as Brando shifted from one foot to the other. “I’ve got a crisis in the kitchen and you want me to play waiter? I thought we agreed that would be your responsibility?”

The rebelliousness won over the pleading. “I gotta go to the bathroom.”

Gavin lifted one brow. “I’m sure table three can wait another ten seconds.”

“Then I need to call Tracey. I told her I’d call at six.”

“Hmmm. I can always count on you to romance your women at prime dinner time.”

“Give me a break.”

Gavin hid a smile. He wondered if his younger brother knew he was capable of blushing. “Text her. I’ll take this table while you go the bathroom. Tracey can wait another hour.”

A scowl settled over Brando’s face but he decided not to argue. This time. “Fine.” Brando raced from the kitchen.

Gavin tried to remember if he’d ever been that young, where every lustful thought had been carved into his features and his body overruled his mind. Probably not. He couldn’t remember when he’d been willing to give up a business deal for a romantic afternoon in the park. Of course, that was probably the reason the family restaurant was going under. Pop had no problem throwing a sign on the door—Gone Fishing—even during peak lunch hours.

He shook his head. It was going to be a hell of a night. Another waiter had called in sick, and his normally stable chef believed his wife was having an affair. The man seemed to have a heavy hand with the pepper and seasonings tonight, almost as if he imagined he served his new wife’s lover. Gavin hoped everyone ordered the special. The sea bass was easy to prepare without screwing up the spices.

His progress halted as Dominick, the bartender, blocked his path. “I need a smoke. Can you cover the bar?”

He grabbed for his patience and reminded himself he was here to save a restaurant, not kill his staff. “No. I told you the new rules. Smoke on your breaks.”

Dominick twitched and clapped him on the shoulder. Since they’d grown up together, it was difficult playing the boss. “Come on, dude. I’m dying here. The crowd’s taken care of for the next few.”

Gavin gave him a look that made many young interns quake. “Don’t push me, Dominick. I’m already playing waiter, and I’m not getting behind the bar. If you don’t want me to fire your ass, get it back in your spot.”

The mutinous look almost made him feel guilty. Almost. “You need to get laid, man.” Dominick trudged back behind the bar, cigarette still in hand. No wonder Mia Casa never made a profit.

Gavin had three months to turn the Titanic, and he’d already run out of lifeboats. Pumping an obscene amount of money into the renovations would help, but if they didn’t get a schedule together and solid, sparkling reviews for the food, God himself couldn’t hold back the icy waters.

He fought a shudder, clawed deep for calm, and headed toward table three.

Then he saw her.

He stopped short and stared. A swirling array of emotions slammed through him like a hurtling freight train, and for one brief moment, he was in another time and another place. The last image of her flickered before his eyes, an image he’d been trying to fight since he had returned home.

She was with the same man as he’d seen her with a few weeks ago. The pathetic reminder of his lovesick spying twisted his gut but he greedily gorged on her appearance.

She took off her raincoat and threw it over the back of the chair. One hand reached up to shake the moisture from her hair, causing a couple of loose curls to escape the constraints of her perfect French twist. Titian-red strands slid over her neck and shoulders. He remembered those curls used to tumble down her back in wild gypsy waves. Used to feel like fire trapped in satin when he would thread his fingers through them. The single candle on the table flickered and illuminated the pearl sheen of her skin, left bare by the low-cut black dress.

A pair of trendy black-framed glasses now shielded jade green eyes. And something else, something intangible he couldn’t grasp yet. Almost as if there was a wall built around her that screamed look, but don’t touch.

He wondered if her companion ignored the signal. He wondered why the thought bothered him so much.

The woman reached for her menu and laughed at something her companion said. The sound drifted across the room, shot-silk amidst the clatter of china and glasses, and still heady enough to settle in the pit of his gut and squeeze. Hot enough to remind him of a sip of age-old whiskey. With a sting.

Out of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world, she has to walk into mine. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if a piano player named Sam burst into “As Time Goes By.”

Gavin dragged in a lungful of air and paused for a beat. Then he walked toward table number three.

…

Miranda Storme scanned the menu with an ease of an expert, her mind automatically making mental notes of prices and cuisine. She wondered if she’d have enough time to order the special.

“Uh-oh, you’ve got that look on your face.”

Miranda glanced up. “What look?”

Andy Carson pulled his brows into a frown. “The critic look. Can’t we enjoy one meal without whipping out your notepad? Let’s be rebels tonight. Let’s order a plain bowl of spaghetti and meatballs and forget about testing the chef’s skills. I’m tired of working every time I pick up a fork.”

She laughed. “Andy, you get to eat for free, and I don’t even make you write the column.”

“I don’t care. I had a Big Mac yesterday and I couldn’t enjoy it. I kept trying to figure out exactly what was in that special sauce.”

She bit her lip. “Okay. Since you’re nice enough to suffer through the opera with me, I’ll order the spaghetti. An Italian restaurant can’t screw it up, and we can make the performance in time.”

His face lit up as he closed the menu. “Perfect. Anyway, we’re not on an official review tonight and—what’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

She watched the man approach her table and heard a strange roaring in her ears. Long strides closed the distance between them with the same ruthless determination he’d shown years ago. It had been part of him she’d fallen in love with.

Until he had used that same determination to walk right out of her life.

“Hello, Red.”

As the deep, gravelly voice stroked her ears, Miranda controlled a shudder. Slowly, she lifted her gaze to meet his, and was grateful she still felt numb. Steel-blue eyes met and held hers. Piercing in intensity, as if he could see right into her soul. Once, he had. She’d sworn to never make the mistake again.

“Hello, Gavin.” She kept her tone even, as if running into your first love occurred on a daily basis. “How are you?”

“Fine.” The polite, cliché conversation made her shudder, but no original words rose to her lips. His probing gaze released her and studied Andy. He seemed to take inventory, as if checking for weaknesses that could be used later to his advantage. An awkward silence settled over the table.

“I take it you two know each other,” Andy said.

Miranda re-gathered her composure. “Andrew Carson, this is Gavin Luciano.” The two men exchanged nods. “Gavin and I dated many years ago. He was an up and coming advertising executive at the time.” She forced a smile. “I’m sure he’s been quite successful.”

“I left.”

Miranda’s head swung back around. “You left?”

“Yep.” He rocked back on his heels with a satisfied look. “I moved into a different field.”

“What are you doing now?” she asked.

The tiny smile turned into a full-fledged grin. She sucked in her breath at the sight of that slow smile flashing a perfect row of white teeth. Totally confident. Overwhelmingly arrogant. Devastatingly masculine. “This,” he said. Gavin whipped out a pencil and notepad from his jacket. “Can I take your order?”

She blinked. She took in his appearance, which consisted of a black turtleneck, khaki slacks, and a sport jacket. “You’re a waiter?”

“Tonight I am. I’m the owner. This is my restaurant.”

A rush of memories flooded through her. Dear God, she’d known Mia Casa sounded familiar. How could she have picked his family’s restaurant? Not that she’d ever been invited here when they dated. Other than it was Italian and located in Manhattan, Mia Casa was just another common name of another place to dine.

Her stomach tilted. “You always said you never wanted anything to do with your family’s restaurant.”

Darkness settled over his features, then disappeared. “I was wrong.” His voice dropped to an intimate pitch. A shiver ran down her spine. “About a lot of things.”

Her hand shook as she reached up to slide the glasses back up her nose. She was so not going there. Having a chatty conversation with the man who dumped her would only ruin her appetite. She took a deep breath and briskly closed her menu. “How intriguing. Well, I think we’re both ready to order.”

Andy sat back in his chair and waved one hand in the air. His face reflected growing amusement. “Miranda, you order for me. You know what I want.”

She registered Gavin’s frown with relish. It would have been unheard of for Mr. Macho to let a woman order for him. For once, she succumbed to her evil side and deliberately leaned toward Andy. Her hand slid over his as she played with his fingers. His shocked expression almost ruined her moment, but she kicked him under the table and ignored his wince. “Darling, would you like to go traditional tonight?”

He blinked and remained silent. Her heel dug into his ankle. “Oh, yes, sweetheart. Traditional is fine.”

Her professional critic training kicked in and she relaxed into her familiar world of food. “I think we’ll start with the calamari, and bring some bruschetta with that. The spaghetti and meatballs as the main course. What’s your vegetable?”

Did he wince, or was she imagining things? “Tonight we have broccoli rabe. But I recommend the salad instead of the vegetable. We have a wonderful house dressing to accompany it.”

“Broccoli rabe, please.”

“We’re known for the stuffed artichokes. I think you may enjoy that, instead.”

Oh, yeah, he really didn’t want her to have the broccoli. She’d been to enough restaurants to know when a waiter was told to push certain items. Giddy satisfaction flowed through her veins. “No.”

He shifted his weight. “As you wish. May I suggest the special tonight, instead? The chef has been preparing it all evening and it’s quite extraordinary. Chilean sea bass over a bed of polenta served with—”

“No, thank you. Bring us two glasses of Chianti Reserve, please.”

Frustration beat from his figure. Gavin was used to being in control, both in and out of the bedroom. Andy was probably driving him crazy with his refusal to speak. “Perhaps your companion would like an opinion?” Gavin asked.

Andy shrugged. “Whatever she says.”

She almost laughed as her ex-lover’s jaw clenched. Miranda blew an air kiss across the table. “It’s so wonderful you don’t need to be in control. I won’t disappoint you, darling. I haven’t yet.”

“Funny, you used to love not being in charge.” He paused. “Quite loudly, if I remember correctly.”

Her breath strangled in her throat as she remembered the way he used to back her up against the wall, lift her skirt, and make her beg. She squeezed her thighs together, waited till she found air again, and forced a smile. “Not anymore. We’ll be skipping desert to catch the eight o’clock show at the Met.”

His pencil paused. “La Traviata?”

His thumb rubbed the edge of the pencil with slow, fluid motions, and Miranda remembered those blunt fingers gliding over her naked skin as the powerful strains of the opera rippled through the air. Remembered each stroke of his body against hers as he controlled the rhythm, ignoring her cries as he took her on a wild ride of pleasure, until the tension exploded while the music rose to a crashing crescendo. Remembered lying in his arms afterward, gazing into the fire, knowing she belonged to him.

She cursed the huskiness to her voice. “Yes.”

“You always did like the opera.” His hot gaze drifted over her face, and lower. “Some things never change.”

She looked away and handed him the menus. “That’ll be all for now. Thank you.”

“I’ll bring your appetizer shortly.” Gavin turned and strode gracefully across the room.

Andy cleared his throat. “Whew, I have bruises on my leg. Next time remind me if I need to play the role of your boy toy.”

“I’m sorry, Andy. It’s…complicated.”

He grinned. “No problem, it was kind of fun. I guess that’s the guy who screwed you up, huh?”

His words hit the tender spot of memories buried deep. “Yep.”

Andy reached out and awkwardly patted her hand. “Let’s see, this is the part in the evening when my wife would say a few words to make you feel better.”

“Care to give it a whirl?”

“Guys suck.”

She gave a strangled laugh. “Tell me about it. But he taught me a lot about myself. I’m stronger now.” Maybe if she said it enough she’d finally believe it.

One brow shot up. “Just don’t confuse strength with denial. Shutting yourself off from feeling isn’t necessarily being strong.”

“I always told you to be a shrink.”

“Those weren’t my words. They were from my own shrink.”

Miranda sighed. “Maybe he gives group discounts. After tonight, I think I’m going to need it.”

…

Miranda blinked back tears and fumbled for her water glass. Unfortunately it was empty, so she settled for a sip of Chianti. The alcohol added to the fire on her tongue and did nothing to quench the blaze.

Andy seemed to have the same trouble. He grabbed his own water glass. “Are you sure you didn’t dump him and he wants revenge?”

Miranda choked on the wine. “It does seem a bit, er, overpowering, doesn’t it?”

“He must have used a pound of pepper and garlic.” He signaled for more water. “And that broccoli rabe was just plain scary. I’m still chewing it and I ate the stuff an hour ago.”

“The bread was good.”

“Yeah, let’s give the place four stars.”

Miranda laughed. There was nothing her friend hated more than a disappointing Italian restaurant. “Don’t get cranky. We’ll just get a cannoli to go.”

He snorted.

She rose from the table. “Why don’t you grab the check while I go to the ladies room?”

“Okay, I’ll meet you out front.”

Her heels clicked against the wooden floor as she made her way toward the back of the dining area. Her gaze swept over her surroundings, noting the combination of old- and new-world style that made up the restaurant. One glance at the large modern bar showed her the restaurant was undergoing some growing pains, battling between the current times and the fight to keep tradition. Miranda pictured the mighty Gavin Luciano running the place like a pirate rules his ship.

She washed her hands and carefully checked her appearance. As she tried to smooth some loose tendrils of hair back into the French twist, her hands trembled. She dropped her arms and stared into the mirror.

Three years.

How long had she waited and hoped for him to return? To chase her and admit he’d fallen in love with her and wanted to stay?

Too long. Eventually, she grew up and grew strong. She realized he’d never come back, and she needed to build her own foundation.

Now he was back.

Miranda straightened her shoulders. It didn’t matter, of course. She’d walk right out of his restaurant tonight and never see him again. Only shock made her body seem so strangely out of control.

She swung open the door and started down the long hallway.

“God, you look good, Red.”

She froze, then turned slowly around and came face to face with her past. “Thanks. You haven’t changed a bit.”

He gave a soft laugh and moved forward. Waves of masculine energy emanated from his body, pulling her in. His gaze traveled over her face, her hair, and downward. “From someone else, I’d take that as a compliment. Coming from you, I’m a bit leery.”

Miranda struggled to remain cool and distant. “I’m sure my opinion won’t keep you up at night.”

A lazy grin curved his lips. “It’s not your opinion I’m worried about. There were always other things about you that kept me up at night.”

She jerked away as the intimate words flowed between them. “I’ve got to go.”

“Wait.” His hand shot out and closed around her upper arm. Shockwaves of heat ripped through her, and she stepped back, suddenly afraid of him. He seemed to sense her wariness, and allowed her the space. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“There’s nothing left to say.”

He winced. “I tried to contact you, you know. I mean, I wanted to contact you.”

“I see. Well, that makes up for everything, I guess. Thanks for clearing up the misunderstanding.”

He let out his breath. “Dammit, Miranda, please listen to me. I want to explain.”

She shook her head. “You’re amazing. You actually think after bumping into me by accident you can clear up the past in one tidy episode? I have news for you. It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re angry. I can understand that.”

She laughed. “I’m not angry. I’m not sad. I just don’t feel anything. I put what happened between us behind me, and have no need to dredge it back up.”

“Because of him?” Gavin jerked his thumb down the hallway. “The guy you’re with?”

Her mouth dropped open. “I don’t believe you’re asking me that question.”

“I don’t think he’s right for you,” he stated.

“You’re insane. I’m not staying around to hear more of your ranting. We have an opera to catch.”

This time he stopped her retreat by backing her up against the wall. He leaned in. The familiar scent of lemon and spice swarmed around her, and though her mind screamed she hated him, her body remembered him as a lover. Her nipples rose in unconscious demand against the black wool of her dress, and liquid heat pooled between her thighs. Sexual energy hummed and sizzled in the air.

“Let me go,” she whispered.

“It’s still there, Miranda.”

She took in the arrogant thrust of his jaw, the curve of his lower lip, the Roman nose that dominated his face. His lips stopped inches from hers, and his breath rushed warmly against her mouth.

“What do you want from me?” she asked. “Do you want to play more head games? I don’t need another roller coaster ride for excitement. Find another player.”

One thumb tipped her chin up. Something deep inside stirred back to life as she glimpsed a swirling array of emotions reflected in his features. Regret. Pain. Desire. “God forgive me for hurting you like I did,” he said.

Her voice trembled. “Let me go.”

“I made that mistake three years ago. I’m not about to make it again.”

“You arrogant, son of a—” she broke off and struggled for control. “I’m not interested in what you want anymore.”

The pad of his thumb dragged over her lower lip, and she caught the gleam of determination and resolve glimmering in his eyes. Her heart stopped. She held her breath and waited for him to say the words.

“I was going to leave you alone.” His lips twisted in a self-deprecating smile. “But now I can’t. Let me explain why I left.”

Seconds ticked by. The clatter of china and glasses rung through the air. Mercifully, numbness settled over her, as she stared at the man who had walked away without a good-bye. His explanation was too late.

He was too late.

Miranda removed his hand and pushed against his chest. He stepped back, and she moved around him. Silence blanketed the long hallway. Finally, she straightened her shoulders and spoke, her voice devoid of emotion.

“Good-bye, Gavin.”

She turned and walked away.

About time he stared at a woman’s back and dealt with dismissal. His overwhelming arrogance stole her breath and her sanity, turning her into the tired, stereotypical representation of a woman scorned. With each stride to her table, her wrath rose and stripped away all of the surface layers she’d worked so hard to re-build.

He probably believed a good explanation would make everything he’d done forgivable. Gavin always gained things too easily, whether it be women, sex, or love. How would it feel to have him finally experience real loss? Messy emotion?

The sweet ache to get even pulsed in her gut. Too bad there wasn’t a way to teach him a well-earned lesson in humility.

Miranda dragged in a breath and settled her composure. She refused to let the man ruin her evening. He’d ruined enough of her days to last a lifetime.

She left the restaurant and didn’t look back.

Chapter Two

The woman on stage moved toward the center. She flung her arms outward in a symbol of surrender, acceptance, power. Her voice, delicate as a spider’s web, skimmed over the room. She invited her audience to share her journey, to open their hearts and souls for this brief moment in time; to share the pain and pleasure of life. And, suddenly, the voice grew larger, booming and echoing off the walls as she challenged the Gods to one final battle. The music became her defender, swelling with majestic force, and the audience held their breath as they hoped. They knew the ending, and yet, a tiny voice whispered in their ears to wait. Perhaps, this time, love will conquer all. Even death.

The last note of her aria rang through the air as she fought her fate. For one instant, Miranda believed the woman had won. Then she collapsed as the curtain crashed to the floor.

Miranda sucked in a ragged breath. The thunderous applause of the audience comforted her as she brushed away the stray tear and remained seated in the darkness. Years ago, she vowed never to cry over life’s events, but allowed herself this one luxury. Weeping at the opera was entirely acceptable.

“Are you okay?”

She turned toward Andy with a smile. “I’m fine. I hope you weren’t too bored.”

Her friend gathered his cashmere coat as the lights went up. “It was fine,” he responded gruffly.

She wiggled herself into the sleeves of her lime green raincoat. “No matter how many times I see La Traviata, I always hope the ending will be different. Didn’t you think—” she stopped short when she caught the telltale dampness on her friend’s cheek. “Andy, you were crying.”

He gave a disgusted snort and turned his back. “Don’t be ridiculous. Real men don’t cry.”

She laughed and trotted behind as they left the Metropolitan Opera house. The chandeliers dripped with opulence and shimmered over the crowd as they fought their way down the elaborate staircase. The dark wine carpeting cushioned her step.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” she sang. “You loved it and you were crying. Admit the truth, or I’ll tell Elaine you sobbed and caused a scene.”

“The pasta sauce went to your brain,” he said.

Miranda made a face as the icy blast of New York City air hit her full force.

He pulled his lapels up around his neck. “Anyway, stop distracting me. You never told me what your boyfriend wanted to talk to you about.”

“Ex-boyfriend.” She cinched the belt tighter as they headed toward the parking garage.

“He looked like he wants to rekindle the romance. What’s the deal?”

They ignored the flashing Don’t Walk sign and cut in front of a hurtling taxicab. The driver beeped and stuck up a middle finger, but she shrugged it off. She knew deep down the driver wouldn’t have thought twice about running her down and leaving her carcass in the street. God, she loved the ruthlessness of the city. And how sick did that make her? The conversation she’d been desperate to forget hovered on the edges of her sanity.

“The deal is quite simple. Asshole wants to explain why he left.”

Andy snickered. They paid the attendant, hopped in the car, and cut into a throng of traffic. Her friend didn’t speak for a while, as they eased one inch per minute, until his curiosity finally won. “What do you want?”

She shrugged. “I want him to leave me alone. I want to forget I ever fell in love with him and was stupid enough to think he loved me. He completely humiliated me. I opened up to him, let myself be vulnerable, and he left. Now I want to get on with my safe, orderly life.”

“So, what are you afraid of? You’re in control now. Maybe it’s time you proved that to yourself.” He grinned. “Maybe it’s time you taught Asshole a lesson.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why do women let men walk all over them? Look, he acted like a jerk and now he thinks he can corner you in the hallway and go back to the way things were. Think like a man. Hit him where he hurts the most.”

Miranda winced. “Doesn’t sound very charitable. Aren’t I supposed to be the better person?”

“Didn’t you ever hear of eye for an eye?”

“What am I supposed to do, get a couple of hoods to do a number on him?”

“Actually, I know this guy from the Mafia who—”

“Andy!”

“Kidding, just kidding. You’ll think of something. Picture thousands of women across the globe, waiting for you to bring justice to their gender.”

“Do you eavesdrop on Elaine’s conversations to come up with this stuff?”

“I watched Oprah once. But now that she’s retired, I’m into Dr. Phil. My therapist approves.”

She adjusted the heat of the vents and fought a shiver. “This whole conversation is ridiculous. I’ll never see him again. He may want me back, but I’ve moved on.”

“Why don’t you sound convinced?”

She looked out the window and tried to hold back the memories. “You don’t know how the relationship was. He had this sort of spell over me.”

“Like a weird sexual power?”

Miranda smothered a laugh. “Close. He’d just scored a partnership in MacKenzie & Associates Advertising, where he was used to getting what he wanted. And he wanted it all. Travel, power, money.” She shook her head in disgust. “But I saw something else in his eyes.”

“Uh-oh. Let me guess. A gleam of vulnerability. A bit of loneliness. All the things that trip up a woman.”

“Yep.” She nibbled on her bottom lip. “Of course, he told me the rules up front. He didn’t want any heavy commitments, and I accepted the terms. Until I fell in love with him.”

“I assume he didn’t suffer from the same emotions?”

The car pulled up to her apartment complex. “Guess not. After my big confession, he left. I never saw him again.”

“Until tonight.” Andy cursed and gripped the steering wheel. “He was probably running scared. We tend to flee when things get too heavy. God knows Elaine freaked me out when I realized she was the one, and it took a long time for me to finally realize it, too. Think about what I said. A little revenge may teach him a lesson. Not to mention how good it would feel.”

“Good night, Andy. Thanks for going to the opera with me. You can drop Stephen off at my house Saturday night.”

A flicker of guilt crossed his face. “I didn’t really mean we had to trade services, Miranda. You don’t have to babysit if you don’t want.”

“A deal’s a deal. You go to the opera with me, and I babysit. Besides, I love Stephen.”

“Oh, you like horns on a kid, huh?”

She grinned and got out of the car. “Like father like son.”

“Ouch. Get some sleep.”

She shut the door and shivered in the damp air. With a quick wave to the security guard, she took the elevator up and hurried inside. Her heels came off in record time, and she quickly stripped, threw on a T-shirt and shorts, and collapsed on the slate gray sofa.

Silence enveloped the room. A silence she’d become used to. A silence she learned to cultivate after realizing her life had become a series of adventures with no end, turning her into an excitement junkie.

So, she’d changed.

Quiet now meant peace. Security. Safety.

Miranda listened to the steady pelt of rain against the window. So why did the silence suddenly feel so empty?

She groaned and buried her face in the velvety cushion. What was the matter with her? She was a strong, capable woman, and Gavin’s crazy declaration meant nothing.

Just like she hadn’t meant anything to him.

The demons rose before her, flashing and taunting even as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block out the images. But they were stronger than her will and dragged her back. Forced her to remember.

“Talk to me, baby.” His mouth nibbled on her ear, did delicious things to her neck, and with one quick movement, strong hands ripped open her blouse.

She gasped, knowing this was the beginning of the game that would end in a rocket of pleasure. Knew the rough play ended in the most explosive orgasm she’d ever experienced.

“Tell me where you want to be touched.”

She guided her hands to her breasts and arched. “Here. Oh, yes, like that.”

His mouth replaced his fingers as he took one ruby crest between his lips and sucked hard. Her skirt fell around her feet and he caressed her buttocks through the silk of her panties. Liquid fire pooled between her thighs.

“More?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

She grabbed his hand and pressed it against her throbbing clit. His leg hooked under her knee and lifted her up, bracing her against the wall so she was splayed open. One finger slipped beneath the elastic edge. Paused. And plunged deep. “Here?”

Her head hit the wall and her teeth bit down on her lower lip. On the verge of orgasm, she fought for control. “Yes.” She fumbled with his belt buckle, frantic to get him as deep inside her as possible.

He gave a low laugh filled with satisfaction. “You’re a greedy woman, Miranda.” Her hands closed around hard, silky flesh and squeezed. His gasp drove her on as she stroked his hard length. “Tell me what I want to hear.”

“I want you.”

He lifted her up. “Wrap your legs around me tight,” he commanded. She obeyed immediately, knowing he liked control, liked watching her lose her sanity before he gave in to his own satisfaction. “Look at me.”

Steel-blue eyes caught and held hers. Raw emotion and need exploded from her gut and shimmered through her and suddenly she knew. Knew he claimed more than her body in that moment. Somehow, in a matter of weeks, he’d claimed her mind and heart and soul.

“Say it again.”

Her flesh burned and shivered, as if caught between excruciating heat and bitter cold. “I want you, Gavin.”

He plunged hard. A cry escaped her lips as he buried himself deep and her body welcomed him. He moved, and she dug her nails into the hard muscles of his shoulders.

“Show me how much. Give me what I need.”

He rocked his hips against hers and took her on a wild ride. With each thrust, he made her beg, until the familiar ritual became much more. The orgasm screamed through her as loud and harsh as her words exploding in the air.

“I love you Gavin, I love you, love you…”

Miranda shot off the sofa with an agonized moan and headed toward the kitchen. With deliberately steady motions, she went through her nightly ritual of making tea. But the familiar actions didn’t bring back the numbness. Pain bubbled up deep and demanded entry into vulnerable crevices shut down long ago.

Damn him for leaving her.

Damn him for coming back.

He fled with her humiliating words echoing in the air between them, leaving something bigger than she’d ever thought possible. Alone—with a decision that could change both of their lives forever. She rested her hands on her belly and remembered. Like mother, like daughter. Except she would have made the right decision. She wouldn’t have abandoned her baby.

Miranda slammed the mug down on the gleaming white counter. Oh, what she would give to see him suffer emotionally as she had. Just once. Andy mentioned revenge, and Lord knows she was tempted, especially after the stunt Gavin pulled tonight.

Her gaze snagged on the pile of newspapers stacked neatly on the side. No use wasting time on crazy daydreams. She needed to write up her review on the new Thai restaurant, and plan the angle she wanted to approach her column. Her fans were wild about her sharp witty banter and ability to honestly pick apart a dining experience like a story, rather than the mean club approach too many critics prided themselves on.

She’d finally achieved her dreams and reached a semi-celebrity status in the foodie world. Between her regular critic reviews and her HotSpot feature for Foodie magazine, she was well recognized and respected in the industry.

Her mind sifted through the possibilities, remembering that awful spaghetti she’d consumed a few hours ago. Too bad Gavin’s restaurant sucked. How did he possibly make a profit? She figured Mia Casa wouldn’t be in business too much longer with a chef like that, and—

Gavin’s restaurant.

Column.

Miranda froze. The idea danced before her, ripe with possibilities. She quickly sorted through the ethics of her decision, but after a few moments, the plan hit in vivid, shattering force.

Oh yeah. She had a new idea for Sunday’s issue.

And it was going to be a doozy.

…

“We’re ruined! Completely ruined!”

Gavin shifted in the leather barstool. His mother threw up her hands in typical Italian fashion. He wondered if it was too early to have a drink. Usually, prepping for the day’s work gave him a surge of adrenalin. This morning, the scene reminded him of a funeral, and nobody could do a funeral as well as his family. Pop sat across from Brando with a look of doom on his face. His younger brother already had a pout to his lip, which meant he was on the defensive. And Antonio glanced from one to the other as if just waiting to be challenged.

With resignation, Gavin picked up the paper and stared at the Miranda Eats column. The heading jumped out at him and made his fingers itch to hold a shot glass:

Mia Casa Caves In.

His mother paced and wrung her hands. “In all the years open for business, we’ve never had such a review. Giovanni, what did you do to this food critic?” She peered over her glasses in accusation.

He winced again at his God-given name and reigned in his patience. He hated the family name, and changed it to Gavin years ago. His parents refused to acknowledge the change, so now he felt as if he had two identities. Of course, he could’ve been named Sonny from The Godfather, their favorite movie, so he figured he was lucky.

“Nothing, Mama.” He took note of his father’s frown and obvious disappointment. “We had some problems last night, but I had no idea she was doing an official review.”

Antonio slammed a meaty fist down on the table. “How can I work in such chaos?” he demanded. “Waiters call in sick, Brando’s on the phone all night with his girlfriend, and my wife is having an affair.” He let out a long stream of Italian curses. “I cannot perform under such conditions.”

He pointed to the quote in stark black and white. “It states here she spoke directly to the chef of Mia Casa. Are you crazy, Tony? Why did you answer a call from a critic without putting me on the phone?”

His chef straightened to full height. Unfortunately, since he only topped five-six, he didn’t have a long way to go. “She identified herself as Miranda Storme. How am I to know she is from Miranda Eats? She said she dined here and asked what I thought about the food I served.”

The awful finality of the quote slammed into Gavin’s brain and he read it aloud. “Anthony Riccio is the head chef of Mia Casa and states this about a customer’s dining experience: ‘The food is of the same high quality no matter what day or time a diner visits. I pride myself on consistency and good cooking.’ If this is the truth, don’t bother going in for lunch, either, unless you want to keep chewing your vegetables throughout the day.”

Tony threw his head up to the sky and spit out his declaration. “A lie! We shall sue and regain our reputation!”

Gavin surrendered the battle and reached for the crystal shot glass to pour a stream of whiskey. He ignored his mother’s shocked gasp and directed his words toward his chef. “Tony, the waiters told me they never served so much water. We want the bar bill up, not the water bill.” He cut his hand through the air for silence when his chef opened his mouth. “Enough. What’s done is done.”

“Tracey said I don’t spend enough time with her and she’s thinking about going with this other guy,” Brando said. “I had to convince her not to. Why am I always working anyway, when Gavin gets all the credit?”

His father reached out and grabbed his brother by his ear like he was three. “Brando, I am the one who called your brother and asked for help. He took a leave from his job to help us, and you will respect this.”

One lower lip jutted out in a sulky expression to rival Marlon Brando. “I bet I could’ve gotten a better review from Miranda Storme.”

“Brando Luciano, respect your older brother,” boomed Archimedes Luciano, patriarch of the family.

Brando stood up. “Why should I, Pop? I was the one who was supposed to inherit the restaurant. He goes away for three years, decides he wants the business, and you go and give it to him. Now look what happens. If business sucked before, it’ll be worse after the review.”

Gavin hated to admit his brother was right. His gut told him there was more to that review than just business, and he was to blame. “Mia Casa was going bankrupt, Brando,” he said quietly. “It’s a family business and we’re all involved, but this place needs some changes to keep up with the times. Dating and partying is fine, but the restaurant needs twenty-four hour attention. Are you ready to do that?”

“Sure. I’ll just imitate you. Abandon the restaurant and achieve a crappy review from the most important food critic in town. Pure genius.”

Mama shook her finger at his brother. “Language!”

Gavin squeezed his eyes shut. Unfortunately, his brother spoke the truth. Crap, why hadn’t he suspected she was on a formal review? Because the moment he laid his gaze on her, he’d been toast. When he left her years ago, she’d been ready to embark on her studies at the culinary. He figured she’d be a prestigious chef, and kept track of her progress while overseas.

Instead, she exploded in the papers and high-profile magazines as the hot new reviewer in the city. He studied everything she’d ever written. Her work demonstrated a sharp-witted style, a wicked sense of humor, and an old-fashioned tendency toward fairness.

But Sunday’s column was personal, and Mia Casa took the hit. How much money had he already sunk into the renovations and big-time advertising to build a new client base? A menu overhaul almost put him in the hospital, as each item needed to be argued over with his parents, while his mother mourned the loss of traditional favorites.

The celebrity chef stunt almost lured him to quit. Almost. He demoted Antonio to assistant, and splashed the announcement of the big new hire of a well-known chef from the Food Network. His grizzled appearance and world-weary expertise was impressive. Gavin figured the guy could take any crap his family threw at him and get Mia Casa big exposure.

Wrong.

His family plotted the chef’s demise from the beginning. Expensive truffles suddenly disappeared. The clean and white pressed uniforms the chef insisted on showed up soiled and smelly. The small group of waiters left his food under the warmer for too long, so complaints trickled in about dried up fish and meat. Seven full days, and the Lucianos toppled the big cheese. The chef quit and walked out in an old-fashioned temper tantrum, while Tony threw up his arms and pretended he didn’t understand.

More money down the tubes. And Gavin learned his lesson. He could dump his money, hire who he wanted, but the core group would never change because they were family.

Gavin grabbed for patience as his family continued bickering. When Pop called him and asked for help, he never hesitated. He figured it would be the easiest job of his career.

Not.

His one step forward with the renovations just took five steps back. Now he had to deal with the aftereffects of negative publicity. Why had she picked his restaurant at this time? Had she written the column to guarantee he’d track her down? An unconscious attempt to get him so angry, he’d be sure to initiate another meeting?

Gavin threw back the last of his shot. Hmmm. Sounded good, but he guessed she’d scoff and tell him his massive ego was twisting things again.

Didn’t matter. She’d thrown down the gauntlet and opened the door of the past, whether she knew it or not. He was just going to walk right through.

Gavin scooped up the paper and tucked it under his arm. “I’ll take care of it.”

“How?” Archimedes asked.

“I’ll get her to write a second review.”

Silence settled over the dining room. His family looked at him as if he’d taken leave of his senses.

Brando snorted. “She never does second reviews—that’s part of her style. Once she tags a place unfit, it’s tagged for life. You’ll never get her to do one.”

He gazed at his brother with narrowed eyes. “Watch me.”

He strode out of the restaurant.

…

“Ouch. Stephen, that hurt, you devil.”

The little boy screeched in delight as his pudgy fist came away with a few strands of red hair. Miranda rubbed her scalp where her new bald spot lay. “Manda, do it again!”

She shook her head and swung him high in her arms. “Don’t think so, flirt. If that’s how you show affection for a girl, you’re gonna be in some trouble.”

He kicked his feet and laughed as he played the familiar game of airplane. “Fly me, fly me!”

The doorbell rang, and Miranda made a landing noise as she settled him against one hip. “Come on, flirt. Daddy’s here to pick you up. Said you were going to the zoo today.”

“Aminals!” he shouted. “Daddy said I could see the lion in The Wizard of Oz.”

“That’s right. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my.” She grinned and threw open the door. “And here’s your—oh, my God!”

“Oh my God,” the toddler boy mimicked.

Gavin took one look at the toddler perched on her hip and grew pale. “Oh, my God.”

Silence fell between them as they glanced at one another, and Miranda tried to gather her wits. She knew writing the column had been a risk. With Gavin’s massive ego, she bet he thought she wrote it in the hopes he would contact her. Still, revenge had been too sweet to ignore.

But she’d never expected him to show up on her doorstep.

“What are you doing here?” She moved her head away as Stephen reached for another red curl. “How did you find me?”

Gavin’s gaze never left the boy’s face. His voice came out ragged. “I needed to talk to you. We never finished our conversation.”

Miranda snorted. “No, you just can’t handle a woman walking away from you. I was finished with the conversation. I think you’d better go.”

She tried to shut the door but he blocked it with the toe of his leather shoe. “We have a lot more things to discuss.” He studied the toddler. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Stephen must have sensed the growing tension and let out a cry. She spoke softly. “You’re upsetting him. I don’t have time for this right now.”

Gavin’s olive skin seemed to grow a shade paler. He propped himself up against the edge of the door. “I’m a little upset myself.”

“Look, if you have a problem with the review, take it up with my editor. Every word was valid and—what’s the matter?”

He ran one hand through his hair. Oaky brown strands flopped across his forehead. “Can I sit down for a minute?”

She opened her mouth to tell him no, but he moved through her apartment and settled on the sofa. Odd, he looked almost sick as he stared at the toddler. Almost as if…

Understanding dawned. He thought Stephen was hers! The humor of the situation put her back in a good mood. Good. He believed she had a husband tucked away in the back room and a full, happy life. The faster she got him out of here, the better off she’d be. He’d never bother her again. His monstrous ego probably shuddered at the thought she’d moved on without him.

“Are you happy?”

Miranda sucked in her breath as she caught the look on his face. Raw hunger. As if he wished the child was theirs. But of course, she was imagining things. Gavin told her many times he didn’t want children. Another reason she’d never told him the truth or tried to contact him.

She opened her mouth to tell the truth but the doorbell rang.

Miranda took a deep breath and let Andy in. “Hey, sorry I’m late, but Laura’s dance class ran over— Oops, didn’t know you had company.”

“Gavin stopped by to discuss a few things.”

Andy gave him a nod, then crouched and held out his arms. “Come here, buddy.”

The toddler ran toward his father and flung himself into the embrace. Andy swung him up, the look of fatherly pride gleaming in his eyes, but she made sure not to glance back. “You better get going if you want to have enough time at the zoo.”

“Was he any trouble?”

She absently rubbed her head and grinned. “Of course not, he’s an absolute angel.”

Andy laughed. “You’re a great liar. Come on buddy, time to see the animals.”

“Aminals! Bye, Manda.”

She gave the child a kiss and shut the door behind them. Then slowly turned around.

Electricity pulsed and crackled through the air. One very tall, very pissed off male rose from the couch and closed the distance between them. She watched in fascination as he stopped right before her. His jaw clenched with tension. “You should have told me.”

Her eyes widened. “You come storming into my apartment, make the assumption Stephen is mine, and you’re mad at me? You didn’t even give me a minute to tell the truth.”

He frowned. “You know what I thought.”

“What’s the matter, Gavin? Did you really believe I’ve wasted the past few years waiting for you to contact me again? Sorry to disappoint you, but I’ve moved on with my life. Now get out.”

“Soon. Why did you do a review on my family’s restaurant?”

She moved away and walked into the kitchen. Grabbing the kettle with unsteady fingers, she filled the pot with water and flicked on the flame. “All of my reviews aren’t planned. I do many impromptu visits.”

He followed. “Why do I have an idea you didn’t plan to write up Mia Casa until our encounter?”

Miranda focused on her soothing ritual. She took down a box of green tea bags, hoping the magical healing qualities of the herbs soothed her. One delicate teacup embroidered with roses clicked on the small plate. Sugar, milk, lemon. The tea set was an antique find in a second-hand shop and came from royalty. She liked to imagine a queen sipping the brew with ladylike restraint, her emotions firmly in check as she relaxed within the constraints of tradition.

God, how she longed to be that person. God, how hard she’d tried to change. “Does this really matter? What do you really want, Gavin?”

“I want you to do another review.”

She removed the kettle and poured. Fragrant puffs of smoke rose from the cups. She picked one up and handed it to him. “I see.”

“Your column was personal. Not up to your standards, Red. You always talk to the owner after a review to see if he or she had any comments, especially if you decide not to recommend the restaurant. You’re usually fair, but you didn’t write one decent comment about Mia Casa.”

“I liked the bread.”

He snorted. “I understand you wanted revenge. But your review can hurt my family, and they have nothing to do with the mess I made out of our relationship. I need a fair deal. Do a second visit, unscheduled.”

Her will shook, then stilled. He was a master at closing a deal and getting what he wanted. He rose up from the ranks at demonic speed, and became the top closer for a valid reason. He never took no for an answer. Even now, she fought her natural ability to surrender, and allow herself the pleasure of his approving smile, or the flash of satisfaction in his eyes. He was Dom material down to the bone, and she refused to play the game any longer. This time, he’d never get what he wanted. It was the last shred of pride left, and she’d be damned if she showed any weakness.

“No.”

He blinked. “No?”

She placed her teacup on the table. “I’m not doing a second review. I’m sorry it will affect your family, but I was fair, impartial, and I told the truth.” She quenched the tiny flicker of guilt and soothed herself with the knowledge she followed the basic regulations of rating a restaurant. Showing Gavin a lesson was just an extra perk in the process. “I told my readers I never tried the dessert. I called to speak with your head chef and get his comment. Talking with the owners is not a necessity, and doesn’t make or break a review. My motto is clear. I never do second reviews. Our business is concluded—on all matters. If you’ll excuse me, I have a number of things to do this afternoon. You know the way out.”

She took the cup from his hands, set it on the counter, and walked away. A rush of triumph raced through her. She was free. This time around, her old love was not in control, and it probably drove him crazy.

Andy was right. Revenge was sweet.

She stood by the door, ramrod straight, but he didn’t move. Just leaned his hip against the island with a casual laziness. Miranda knew better. He seemed to assess his options with lightning speed, before settling on his new path. “Wanna know how I felt when I saw you with Andy’s son?”

“Don’t.”

“What I was really mad about is how I felt at the idea of you having a child with another man. I hated it.”

Numbness overtook the anger until she felt limp. Her voice was toneless when she finally answered. “What we had wasn’t real. It was just sex.”

He pushed away from the counter and crossed the room. “You’re wrong, Red. That’s what I wanted to believe. Hell, I wanted to believe it so bad I traveled a thousand miles across the globe to prove I didn’t love you. Nothing worked. I made my money, accomplished my goals, and tried to be happy without you.” He paused. “But I never was. When Pop called and asked for help, all I could think of was the idea of running into you again.”

“You expect me to believe you took three years to realize you love me? Why didn’t you fly home immediately after you came to this startling conclusion?”

“It wasn’t like that. We were at a crossroads, and I didn’t want to interfere with your own goals.”

“Very convenient.”

“It’s the truth. You were off to study at the culinary. I had just scored a partnership. I completely panicked and made the biggest mistake of my life.”

She snorted. “Yeah, so big you jet-set around the world, being miserable.”

He seemed to think over her statement, and a misty longing edged his voice. “Most of the time, yes. But I decided to take some time off and travel to India. Everything started to crystallize there.”

“You went to India?”

He nodded. “I was taught a different way of life. I learned I’d been trying to find myself on the outside, but I needed to find out who I was on the inside. I didn’t track you down because I thought it was too late.”

“Right.”

He groaned. “I have a feeling you don’t believe me, but I never expected this to be easy. I didn’t want to come barging into your life again, Red, when there was a good chance you’d already forgotten me. Gone on with your life.”

“I have, Gavin. That’s the whole point to this conversation. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop you from cornering me in the restaurant, or leaving after I asked you to go.”

“Because I knew it wasn’t over the moment you looked into my eyes.”

The tears were trapped deep inside, but she refused to let them surface. Instead, she faced him with a deep calm. “You’re too late.”

“I don’t believe that.”

He stepped in front of her and laid both palms flat against the wood, trapping her head in between them. She let out a soft whoosh as the air left her body—faced with his full power. His warm breath struck her lips, a delicious mixture of whiskey and mint.

Miranda realized he was still in control.

The gleam in his eyes reflected a knowledge he affected her in the most primitive way possible and intended to use it to his advantage. The spicy scent of him teased her senses. She decided the best way to play the scene was flippant. “Seems we’ve been here before, huh? Me, Tarzan. You, Jane. Simply charming.”

His lower lips quirked. “You always were a hellcat, Red. I never knew whether to strangle you or drag you to the nearest bed. The latter proved more pleasant.”

She smiled sweetly. “I wouldn’t do a second review if you offered me a million dollars. I wouldn’t do a second review if I was sick, and dying, and you were the only man to help me. If you were the last man on Earth standing between me and a nuclear bomb blast I wouldn’t—”

“I get the message. You won’t do the review. Fine, I’ll change your mind later.” He ignored her outraged squeak and continued. “Time to take the first step, sweetheart. I’m going to prove your body hasn’t forgotten me, even if you want to deny your feelings.”

Her heart thundered and skipped like Derby day. “Arrogant, aren’t we? You were good, babe, but not good enough to span three years. I’ve had better.” Did her nose grow longer from her lie?

He lifted her chin up, forcing her to face him. Grim resolution shot from blue-gray depths. His body heat was almost tangible, tempting her to surrender and reach out to touch him. “Ouch. That’s gonna make me up my game. But I want more than your body. There’s been an empty ache in my gut from the day I walked away from you. I searched Godforsaken places to fill it and I never got close. Until now. I want another chance, Miranda. I want to know how you changed and who you are. I have eight weeks to prove myself again and I’m not wasting another second.”

He closed the inch of space between them by pressing solid muscles against her curves. His head lowered. Carved lips stopped inches from hers, and his breath rushed across her trembling mouth. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

The familiar command took her back. Nights of naked skin and sweat and orgasms. She gasped at his cruelty. “Damn you to hell.”

His hands slid down her body to link her fingers within his. “Already been there.”

His mouth stamped over hers.

Chapter Three

I’m not going to respond. I’m not going to respond. I’m not going to—

The mantra pounded over and over as his lips skated gently across hers. She steeled herself for the invasion and vowed to fight, but it never came. As if he had all the time in the world to re-discover her taste and texture, his mouth skimmed…pressed…retreated…until an unconscious moan rose from her throat and her fingers tightened around him.

Never changing the force of his teasing kiss, he returned the pressure of her fingers, squeezing, then slowly unlacing as he broke contact of skin against skin. One thumb massaged the sensitive flesh of her palm, then stroked upward to press into her thudding pulse point. Her hand flexed, and every inch of her body jumped to life. Her nipples rose against the cotton of her shirt. Denim brushed against denim as he shifted his weight. His belt buckle scraped against her lower belly, and caused a rush of liquid heat to pound between her thighs. Her lips parted under the delicious persuasion of his, but still he held back, tracing the corners of her mouth with the tip of his tongue.

She ached for an intense strength she could fight. Instead, he snared her with a delicate heat that promised her a world of sensation, as if he knew her body would always welcome him back.

She tilted her head and allowed him access, but he ignored her request. Suddenly she gazed into an ocean of heat, burning with a demand and hunger. “You have to say the words, Miranda.” The silky command raked across her ears. “Invite me in.”

Her hips arched upward. He was a real life vampire, seducing her to opening her window so he could bring her pleasure and steal her soul. “No.”

The game continued. His teeth nibbled on her bottom lip, then soothed with his tongue, always refusing to kiss her the way she needed. One foot nudged her legs apart so he could angle his hips more intimately against hers. The hard length of his erection settled between her thighs. His hands stroked each finger with a completeness that told her he would give as much attention to other parts of her body. Parts that ached for him. Drugged up with bliss, she moaned and reached for him.

“Is this what you want?” he murmured.

She shook with rage and passion and wanting. “I hate you.”

He buried his hands in her hair. “I know.”

“Yes.”

With a muttered curse, his mouth came down on hers. His tongue plundered the seam of her lips and re-staked his claim. The taste of him drove her mad for more as he explored and conquered every slick, satiny corner of her mouth. She gave him free access and met each thrust of his tongue with her own. Her breasts were crushed against the muscled wall of his chest. The gentle teasing turned into an inferno. His hips rocked against hers. She arched and demanded more.

“Let me touch you.”

She didn’t need to say the word. In a moment, her shirt was unbuttoned and parted. A deep-seated groan rumbled from his chest at her lack of a bra, and then his fingers stroked her swollen flesh.

“Gavin!”

“I know, baby, I know.” One thumb raked across the ruby crest and he lowered his lips to take her in his mouth. He bit and licked, pushing her closer into a seething pit of sensation.

“I’ve thought about you like this,” he whispered. “Every night climbing into bed I dreamed of touching you, hearing you cry out in pleasure.” He nibbled on her neck as his hands lifted her breasts and rubbed her nipples. “Let me show you how much I need you. Let me make love to you and you’ll see we belong together. You’re safe with me, sweetheart, I swear it.”

I love you, Gavin, I love you…

He’d left before, and he’d leave again. Was she so weak-willed and pathetic she’d allow him to repeat the same move three years later?

Her skin chilled as if steeped in ice water. Slowly, she reached out and pushed against his chest. He looked up.

“Nice try. But a good screw still won’t make me do a second review.”

“We were always better than a good screw and you know it. Don’t try to deny the connection we have.”

She twisted her lips. “Orgasms don’t make a connection, Gavin. I’ve moved beyond that now. Maybe it’s time to up your game.”

He jerked back. Torment shone briefly in those eyes, then disappeared. “God, what happened to you? How did you become so cold?”

She calmly buttoned her shirt. “I was taught by the best.”

He cursed and rubbed his forehead. “I deserved that, I guess.”

She didn’t answer, just leaned against the door and watched him.

“Do you know what karma is, Miranda?” He let out a humorless laugh. “In India they believe karma is the result of your past lives and actions. You re-connect with people who you’ve known before.”

He glanced over but she refused to answer.

“Karma is like destiny. When two people discover each other from past lives, they form a deep connection. Three years ago I was only willing to have an affair. I’d decided I wanted more from my life than to run the family business, settle down, and have children. I craved freedom, and I thought that came with money and power. Maybe before if I had stayed, I would’ve ended up hurting you in a different way. Because I wasn’t ready. Now I am.”

He reached out and pushed back a stray curl from her face. “I want a chance to show you the man I really am. I want a chance to make it up to you.”

Her lower lip trembled. The memory of those weeks after he left still bruised at a touch. The loneliness and fear. The knowledge she was alone and hadn’t been good enough. Was never good enough. “It’s too late.”

She waited for his final acceptance. His hand dropped away. He opened the door and paused. “You’re wrong. You’re going to welcome me back into your bed. You’re going to trust me again. Because it’s our karma.”

Then he left.

…

Gavin climbed into his black Mercedes, shut the door, and clasped his hands around the steering wheel. The leather seat creaked gently beneath his weight as he gazed out through the windshield.

Maybe she was right.

Maybe it was too late.

How would he ever convince her to forgive him?

How many times had he picked up the phone, aching to hear her voice? How many letters had he written but never mailed? He shook his head in disgust. Overwhelmed by the sights he encountered and the emotions bubbling up inside, he’d penned his feelings to her in every city over the damn country. Each time he stopped at the post office, ready to mail them, something held him back. As time passed, his decision became easier to keep the letters his secret. He knew written words couldn’t change things between them. So, he threw himself into his work and searched for his own answers.

When he got back into town, he tracked her down immediately. The memory of her strolling out of her office, laughing with Andy, punched him in the gut. They looked…close. Intimate in the way of friends, maybe more. He watched them walk down the street and realized he had no right to appear back in her life.

Until she showed up at Mia Casa.

Karma.

He needed to use this opportunity to right his past mistakes. Save the restaurant. Gain Miranda’s forgiveness. But one look twisted his motivations. He wanted more. Her body, her mind. Even her heart.

He had no right to demand any of it. He would have to go back to Europe within eight weeks. Unless he tossed it all and stayed. The first time he chose his career. Would she give him another chance to choose her? Could he give up everything he worked hard to build for the unknown?

Maybe. Damn, he wanted a shot. He already experienced the burn of her body. Now he wanted to dive back in and see the woman she’d become. In order to have that option, he faced the hurdle of trying to un-break her heart.

Gavin pressed the button and the engine purred to life. He had a long road ahead, but his travels taught him the fine art of patience. And that kiss proved she still had feelings for him. It was a tiny spark to cling to, but one spark could ignite a fire.

Gavin threw the clutch into gear and drove out of the parking lot.

…

Miranda shuffled the papers on her desk and tried to keep her butt in the chair. Ever since Gavin walked out of her apartment a few days ago, her writing had stalled. Almost as if guilt mocked her. Not over his attempt to forge a physical relationship to gain a second review. No, the main thing keeping her blocked and up half the night was the knowledge he was right. The main reason she wrote that review was revenge. Guess it was a dish best served cold after all.

She pushed back a sigh and re-focused on the one sentence she managed to compose. At least it was over. Gavin finally backed off. Though they’d exchanged harsh words, it was for the best. No man could possibly handle all that hostility and return for more.

“Hey, Miranda, looks like you don’t have to go out for today’s review.”

“Hmm?” She glanced up from her computer. The pencil she’d been tapping fell from her fingers, causing the copy editor who had yelled the comment to laugh. “Oh, no.”

Gavin strode through the newsroom as if he was editor-in-chief and barked orders to the two men trailing behind. They grumbled beneath their breath as they pushed a silver tray cart across the room and stopped by her cubicle. Giggles and whispers cut through the air as all eyes focused on her guest.

“Your lunch, madam.”

Her mouth fell open. “Are you insane? What are you doing here?”

“Giving you a chance to taste the real menu at Mia Casa.” He nodded to the other men. They looked at each other and shook their heads, as if they knew their boss was crazy, then whipped off the covers from the plates. The rich scents of fresh tomatoes, lemon and garlic wafted in the air. Miranda firmly ignored the sudden cry of her stomach and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“I’m not doing another review, Gavin.”

The younger man gazed at Gavin in triumph. “I told you she wouldn’t do it. I told you this was a stupid idea. If Pop had given me the restaurant, this would have never happened.”

“Yeah, Brando, you’ve been telling me that ever since I got back. Oh, by the way, Miranda, this is my younger brother.”

She raised a brow. She’d never met Gavin’s family. Their brief affair hadn’t afforded her the status of being introduced to family members. After all, sex was kept in the bedroom. She ignored the cut of pain and nodded. “Nice to meet you.”

Some of the sulkiness left his face and he smiled. “Hey, I think your column is pretty cool, and I have a tip for you. My girlfriend Tracey works at this pizza place in the Village, and she says they make the best Sicilian. It’s called Sammy’s Slice. I bet I can get you a discount.”

“Thanks, Brando. I’ll take it under advisement.”

The older man stuck his head in between them and put out his hand. “I’m Antonio, signorina, and I am the chef at Mia Casa. I can promise you today’s lunch will be the best you’ve ever had.” He beamed. “My wife is not having an affair.”

“Oh.” A puzzled frown creased her brow as she shook his hand. “Well, I’m very glad for you, Antonio.”

“Yes, this is a very good thing.”

Gavin turned to the two men. “Now that the introductions are made, if you gentlemen will leave us, I’ll see you back at the restaurant.”

With a quick good-bye, they left. Miranda looked down at the elegant silver tray, complete with linen napkins, serving utensils, and a long stemmed red rose. She sighed. “Why are you doing this?”

He draped one napkin over his arm and filled her plate. “Maybe I wanted to finish our conversation. Maybe I thought you were hungry.”

“Maybe you should have called.”

“This is more personal. Besides, I bet you haven’t eaten yet.”

Her stomach growled on cue, but he kept his face neutral. His knit shirt stretched across broad muscles. He stood hands on hips, legs braced apart, and his actual aura vibrated with unconscious arrogance. Miranda shook her head in amazement. The man served her lunch and he exuded a casual elegance, reminding her of royalty.

“You’re still bossy,” she grumbled. “Just because I’m eating this doesn’t mean I’m giving in. I hate to waste food.”

“Point taken.” He handed her the plate and grabbed one of the computer chairs, settling himself down. “What are you working on?”

She swallowed a perfect bite of eggplant Parmesan and tried to mask her surprise. “We’re expanding the Miranda Eats column. My editor wants to start printing some of the common questions people write in about.”

“Like who pays for your meals when you go on reviews?”

“Exactly.” Miranda wondered how Antonio had achieved such a wonderful combination of firmness and texture to the eggplant. Too many times the vegetable came out limp and soggy. She took another bite. “It’s amazing how many readers assume I pay for myself and write the review out of the kindness of my heart. People think I’m an aspiring author who’s desperate to be published in anything.”

“Are you an aspiring author?” he asked curiously.

She laughed. “No, but I have a skill for the written word. Always did.”

“What happened to the culinary? I assumed you’d be set up in some four-star kitchen, perhaps running your own cooking show on the Food Network. You always had such a passion for food.”

“I still do. I spent the first year learning the basics, but I wasn’t happy. I lacked the skill and passion to cook professionally, but inherited the rare gift of palette. I dropped out when I realized my favorite part was tasting the food, and I despised the rest of the steps. The idea of being trapped in the kitchen made me shudder.”

He smiled. “You always did have a free spirit.”

“Yeah, that’s not how Chef Riley described me.” She winced at the memory. “Anyway, I know good food and bad food. I can also pinpoint and explain in basic language to the layperson. It took me a while with different papers before scoring an opportunity with The Herald. I started slow, with guest appearances, then built to a weekly column. But everything exploded when a friend of mine who works for Foodie magazine did a feature on me. Suddenly, I got offered the HotSpot feature. I dated a few chefs, was written up in the gossip pages, and found I had officially arrived.” She crinkled her nose. “It’s embarrassing. I always thought food critics were unknown entities who can hide their identity and sneak into famous restaurants. Instead, I’m invited to openings and courted around the city. Kind of hard to sneak in and do a review undercover now. Pretty amazing stuff for someone with no classical culinary training.”

“Your parents never cooked?”

The dark memory stole across her joy for a moment. With effort, she pushed it back. “No, they weren’t around.”

He focused on her face and stripped away the barrier. “You never did speak about your past or upbringing,” he said softly. “Either way, I think you’re damn amazing.”

Pleasure surged but she reminded herself he was a man on a mission. “I’ve come a long way since my first column.”

“I remember. You wrote about the lure of the cheeseburger and gained a whole new audience.”

She looked up. “How did you know about that?”

“I read your work while I was away.”

She peered over her glasses, suspicious, but only met a naked hunger in those blue depths that rattled her to the core. She nervously dabbed the napkin at the corner of her lips and looked away. Time to change the subject. “Does your family enjoy having you home?”

“Sometimes.”

“Explain.”

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. “The biggest statistic for restaurant failure is money. I have plenty, so when Pop called me, I knew I’d be able to renovate the place and pour funds into marketing and advertising. Of course, my father doesn’t agree. He says the success of Mia Casa depends on heart.”

“I like your dad already.”

“Try working with him. My whole family is the poster image of Italian stubbornness. I tore up half the place to put in a new lounge and update the bar. They hate it. They drove out a celebrity chef and fight me on every change I institute. Sometimes I feel like I need to coax a rabbit from the damn Mad Hatter to win an argument.”

“Have you seen a difference from your investment yet?”

“New clientele are coming in. But not as much as I anticipated. Now, with a great review…”

“Keep dreaming.”

“Right. Well, maybe Gordon Ramsey will bail me out of the mess.”

She arched a brow. “You contacted Ramsey?”

Gavin shrugged. “Worth a try. I pulled in all my contacts and put in a request to get us featured on Kitchen Nightmares.”

“What in the world made you decide on that option?”

“A bottle of Johnny Walker.”

A laugh sputtered from her lips. She hated his wit and humor.

“Does Andy work with you?” he asked.

“He writes the lifestyle column. Exercise, health and diet are his main focus.”

“But he goes with you on reviews?”

“Yep.”

Gavin remained silent. His fishing expedition was obvious, but damned if she’d tell him straight out Andy and her were platonic. Let him stew.

“You’re close friends?”

“Yep.”

The chair squeaked as he shifted his weight. “And he has a kid.”

“Actually, he has two. Stephen and Laura. Laura was in dance class at the time.”

He tapped his shoe absently against the metal rung. “I see. You went to the opera together, which means you must be very close friends.”

“I said that already.”

“Right.”

The tapping grew more insistent. Miranda put down her fork and tried the small portion of linguini. A moan rose to her lips. Perfect. Al-dente, with just enough oil and garlic to make her taste buds sing. Fresh Roma tomatoes, basil…and was that thyme or rosemary? A mixture? Tarragon would be absolutely impossible, right?

“Miranda?”

“Oh, sorry, I wasn’t listening.”

“Are you sleeping with him?”

She choked and grabbed her napkin to keep the linguini from spilling out of her mouth. “What kind of question is that? It’s none of your business.”

He seemed to think it over. “Maybe not. You’ve already told me you think it’s too late for us, but I think you should know he’s one of the reasons I didn’t approach you sooner.”

“What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his hair, mussing the burnished strands. “I followed you a couple of times. I thought if we sat down and talked, I’d get a chance to tell you my side of the story. But you were with Andy, and you both seemed familiar. I decided to keep my distance.”

“You followed me?”

He nodded. “I knew I didn’t have the right to interfere if you were involved. God knows I wanted to, but I figured you’d kick me to the curb.”

“You would’ve been right.” She twirled her linguini around the fork. The idea that Gavin tracked her down made strange feelings stir to life. An inner voice warned her not to go down that yellow brick road, because it would never lead to the wizard. Ah, hell. “Andy is married.”

“Oh.” He paused. “Are you sleeping with him?”

Miranda gasped. “No! I’d never sleep with a married man. I’m good friends with Andy’s wife, Elaine. I babysit, and borrow Andy for reviews. I hate eating alone and can’t bring a date to a business meal.” She pushed her glasses firmly back up her nose. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

He grinned and his shoulders relaxed. “I know. I just wanted to make you mad. Your eyes flash and your cheeks get that flushed look to them. As if we were making—”

“Don’t say it.”

“Sorry.” He gestured toward the food. “Good?”

“It’s okay.” She avoided his knowing stare and concentrated on twirling. “Tell me why you’re back in New York working at the restaurant.”

“Mia Casa has been in the family for a very long time. It was passed on from my great-grandparents. I was trained since a toddler how to work in a restaurant, and everyone assumed that as the eldest son, I’d take over.”

“But you had different plans?”

He gazed off into the distance, as if fighting memories. “I wanted to travel and see new places. We had this customer who used to come in, and he’d always be jetting off to these exotic locations on business. When I told Pop about it he just laughed. Told me real values were based on family, children, and home. I imagined myself his age, doing the same thing day after day, and freaked out. That’s when I made the decision to do everything possible not to give my father what he wanted.”

She tilted her head. “It’s normal for a child to want the opposite of the parents. Especially when there’s a lot of pressure to fall into line.”

He shook his head. “Mia Casa became a trap for me. All I could see was my family struggling all the time to keep it going. We weren’t poor, Miranda. We just didn’t have many things. God knows, I wanted those things.”

“What happened when your parents found out you weren’t going to run the business?”

“First they threw a fit, but eventually they supported my decision. Pop told me I needed to find my own way to happiness.” He cleared his throat as if fighting emotion. “Also told me I’d realize the important things and eventually come home.”

She fiddled with the edge of the napkin. “So, when you got the European contract you felt like you’d achieved your dream.”

“Yes. At first I was happy, or so I told myself. Time blurred and I never questioned my decision. Until Pop called and said Mia Casa was in trouble. I left immediately and decided to stay until I get the restaurant afloat.”

“How long?”

He shifted his feet. “I took a three month leave of absence. I have two months left.”

She nodded. “Will that be enough time?”

“I hope so. I’ve used endless connections, advertised, and the new lounge opens up this week. It has all the ingredients for success.”

“Seems like once those loose ties are knotted, you’ll be on your merry way again.” Her temper burned. Why should this be easy for him? Did he really think he could stroll into her workplace, make her lunch, and waltz her into bed? Had she been so easy before?

“That’s the original plan.” He rocked back on his heels. “But I’m open to a new one.”

She snorted. “Maybe it’s time you realize people don’t always fall in line with your big bad plans. Especially if they’re temporary.” Before he could defend himself, she waved a hand in dismissal. “Whatever. I’m happy for you. Happy you got what you always wanted.”

His voice grew gritty with regret. “Yes. But I had to give you up to do it.” He leaned forward. “So I really lost.”

Startled, her gaze flew to his, and her fingers clenched.

Fire.

The connection burned with a fierceness that shook her body. She could handle a flicker of old feelings from the past. It was the new emotions that sprung to life that were causing the trouble. The swirling mixture of familiarity and wanting and completeness when their eyes locked. Three years ago, the physical attraction between them dominated the relationship. Now, a strange longing to know this new man reared up. He was different. Oh, he owned the same arrogance and confidence possessed three years ago, but now there was an inner knowing reflected in his face. He was actually more powerful, because he knew who he was, and he knew what he wanted.

Miranda realized she was in real danger.

She pushed away her plate. “Thank you for lunch,” she said politely. “I really have a lot of work to do, so I’d appreciate it if you leave now.”

He studied her in silence. The busy sounds of the newsroom swarmed around them. “Miranda, have dinner with me Saturday night.”

“No.”

“Why?”

She let out an exasperated breath. “Because I said I can’t.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “Of course not. If you must know, I’m babysitting for Andy Saturday night.”

“I’ll help you.”

A laugh escaped her lips. “No, Andy won’t like that idea.”

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t like you.”

That stopped him for a moment. “I’ll have to change his mind then, won’t I?”

Irritation nipped. “No. I’m not one of your clients or your customers, and I won’t be bullied. Neither will Andy. I will not go out with you Saturday night or any night after that. Do you understand?”

A smile ghosted his lips. “I understand.” He stood and collected the tray. “I’ll be in touch, Red.”

His disappearance rubbed her raw. Seemed like he had no problem walking away from anything of value in his life, and she wasn’t about to stick around for a stroll down memory lane. There was only a world of hurt waiting for her. She was probably some sick type of challenge. Gain her forgiveness, earn her trust, pat her on the head, and strut back to his perfect life. He seemed to think he had a big S curved onto his chest, but like Superman, he only swept in to save the day and flew away for the next crisis. Superman had no frickin’ staying power.

Jerk.

A weird pressure vibrated around her and she turned her head to find three of her co-workers staring at her.

“What?” she asked, throwing up her hands. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

The copy-editor shrugged. “Why don’t you give the guy a chance? Seems cool.”

Everyone murmured in agreement.

Miranda groaned and laid her head on the desk in defeat.

Chapter Four

Miranda watched in amusement as Elaine and Andy rushed around the house in a desperate attempt to get out the door. The three-bedroom townhouse was cozy but trendy, decorated in earthy Tuscan tones. The thick cream carpet was currently littered with Legos and a variety of toys, DVDs, and a big Elmo doll. The removal of the expensive glass coffee table clearly showed child-proofing was needed because of their son’s ability to get into trouble.

She caught a whiff of Chanel perfume as Elaine whizzed by. “He should go down early tonight, so there’s a bottle in the fridge. We’re trying to wean him, but he loves it at night.”

“Ba ba!” Stephen screamed in delight.

Miranda tickled him under the arms and he squirmed and laughed. “Yes, no drawing on the walls tonight, buddy. I got in big trouble for that one.”

Elaine clucked her tongue. “That wasn’t your fault, sweetie. We should have hidden the markers.”

“Not what your husband said. I ended up buying him lunch for a week just to shut him up.”

Andy shot her a look at the feminine glare thrown his way. “Nice work, buddy.”

The bell rang. “I’ll get it. Better hurry up or you’ll never get out of here on time.” She flung open the door. “And for God’s sakes Andy, show your woman a little romance tonight.”

“Hi.”

Miranda stared at the man in front of her. Faded, worn jeans rode low on his hips. A casual blue shirt unbuttoned at the neck and gave her a tantalizing glimpse of olive-toned skin. She wondered if the expression on his face could actually be termed sheepish or if it was just her imagination.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered. One glance back confirmed Andy and Elaine hugging their son good-bye. “I told you I couldn’t see you tonight, and do you listen? No, of course not. The mighty Gavin Luciano always does what he wants no matter the consequences. You are in so much trouble. Andy’s going to have a fit once he finds you here, and I’m going to enjoy every single minute.”

“Hey, Gavin, how are you doing?” Andy reached past her to shake his hand. “I don’t know how late we’ll be. We want to catch supper after the play.”

“Take your time. We’ll have everything under control.”

Miranda let out an outraged squeak, but no words emerged. She studied the two men in front of her and wondered if she’d gone insane. “Andy, what is he doing here?”

Her friend shifted his feet. “Uh, well, he came to see me at The Herald and we got to talking. He told me you couldn’t go to dinner since you had to babysit, so I thought you’d like company.”

A scream bubbled at the back of her throat. “He conned you, didn’t he? God, my own friend becomes my betrayer. Whatever happened to think like a man? Hit him where he hurts the most? Take your revenge for all womankind?”

Andy shrugged. “That was before I knew him.”

“Come on, Red, don’t be so dramatic. You’ll get little Stephen worried.” Gavin walked past her toward the toddler and introduced himself to Elaine. Miranda glared at Andy and tapped her foot.

He threw up his hands. “Fine, I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“E tu, Brute?”

Elaine marched up behind them. A worried frown darkened her face. “Miranda, isn’t that the guy who dumped you three years ago?”

“Talk to your husband. Seems he made a new buddy and invited him over.”

Accusation gleamed from his wife’s eyes. “Is she right? Why would you do something like that? Invite the vampire into our own house?”

Miranda squashed a giggle. Seems Elaine and her both had a deep love for sexy vampire romances.

Andy groaned. “Can’t you give him a second chance? Sometimes men need to be understood. Sometimes we screw up and deserve an opportunity to make amends.”

“Men always stick together,” Elaine grumbled. “Look, if you want me to throw him out, just say the word. It will be my pleasure.”

Miranda shook her head. “Forget it, I can handle him. Have a good time, and don’t worry.”

Andy raced out the door, obviously relieved to have escaped his wife’s wrath for the moment.

Elaine rolled her eyes. “Okay, if you’re sure. My husband and I need to have a chat. Dr. Phil doesn’t seem to be working out.”

Miranda laughed and shut the door behind them. Gavin sprawled out on the floor with a pile of blocks, seemingly absorbed in the task of creating a high-rise building. Stephen was just as intent in his desire to destroy it.

Miranda dropped on the couch and watched them. “How’d you get Andy on your side?”

Massive shoulders lifted. “He’s on both of our sides. He knows where I’m coming from. So, you really felt like I put a spell on you, huh?”

Color flooded her cheeks. “I can’t believe he told you that,” she muttered. “And they say women gossip.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“I plead the Fifth. Anyway, that was a long time ago.”

He placed a bright red block on the floor and swung his head around. When he spoke, his voice dropped to a sexy growl. “That’s exactly how you made me feel, Red. I used to catch your scent when you walked past me, and it made me drunker than a bottle of age-old whiskey. I used to watch your mouth when you talked, and remember that catchy little moan you made when I pleasure you.”

Heat ripped through her. Her belly clenched and her nipples tightened to achy points. “Don’t. We have an audience.”

He glanced down. Stephen seemed enchanted with the bucket and bored with their conversation. “Oh. What I meant was, you know we were great, umm, great…playmates.” His face lit up at his supposedly brilliant Mission Impossible encoding techniques.

She smothered a laugh.

“Playmates, huh? I’d say we excelled at taking naps. When we got up from our naps, we were lousy together.”

Stephen shoved both hands out and shook his head. “No nap. No, no, no.”

Gavin tousled the boy’s hair and grinned. “No nap for you, buddy. Not yet.” The toddler went back to his blocks. Gavin’s voice lowered. “You’re wrong. We focused too much on napping and never gave social play dates a shot. My fault. I screwed up.”

Tension sizzled in the air, and Miranda raised her chin. Every time her heart softened, she reminded herself he’d do anything to reach his goal. Business was business. If she allowed herself to be vulnerable, she’d give him the opportunity to hurt her again.

This time she may never recover.

“You talk a good game, Gavin, but in two months you’re back out the door. What’s in it for me? I’m not looking for a short-term fling. I’m looking to settle down. Get married. Share a life.” She grinned. “Scare ya yet?”

“Nope. Bring it.”

“And what will your excuse be this time? A bigger contract? Another account only you can close? When does it end? I’m done being left behind.”

“Come with me.”

A clatter of blocks banged together and saved her from answering. Gavin dumped out the rest of the bucket and Stephen dove in. She kept her attention on the toddler and hated the sudden racing of her heart.

“What do you think?”

She sneered and hoped she looked intimidating. “I think you need to nap, bad. Isn’t that when men promise the world?”

A laugh escaped his lips. “God, you’re stubborn.” He put up a hand when she began to protest. “Wait. How about I offer a truce?”

He ignored her disbelieving snort and continued. “I won’t make any moves on you. No touching, no flirting, no bringing up the past. I’ll be the perfect gentlemen this evening.”

“What’s the catch?”

His lips twisted. “If I promise not to nap with you on Andy’s carpet, you give me a fair chance. No looking for hidden motives. No insults or defenses. Have an open mind tonight. Deal?”

Suspicion laced her tone. “All you want to do is talk?”

“Talking is a first good step. At least you won’t pounce on my every comment.”

“I don’t pounce. You just keep making arrogant remarks.”

“See, you broke the deal. That’s considered an insult.” He pointed an accusatory finger.

She fought the sudden urge to laugh. Was she crazy to accept his offer? She should throw him out and forget he came back into her life. Still, her curiosity burned with the need to be completely satisfied.

The offer was safe. Her body always got her in trouble. Tonight, he’d only deal with her mind, and there’d be no way to slip through her defenses. Maybe after tonight she’d be free of him.

“Deal.”

Stephen gurgled and smashed the perfect tower. Brightly colored blocks flew in different directions and he screamed with glee.

Her ex-lover looked disappointed. “Darn, that was a good one. Is he usually this rambunctious?”

Miranda slid off the couch. “He’ll be up another hour or so. He usually passes out by eight and sleeps all night.”

Gavin scooped up the rest of the blocks. “Okay, buddy, let’s see if we can make Trump Towers and sell them before the market crashes.”

Stephen screeched in agreement.

…

Four hours later, Miranda collapsed on the carpet next to Gavin. A groan of pain escaped his lips. “I think I’m going to die.”

“No, you only feel that way because your head is pounding and your legs hurt from racing around the room. Wait till the aspirin kicks in.” Miranda tried to pull herself back up the couch but only managed to move an inch. One glance at her babysitting partner told her he had the same problem. They both lay stretched out on their backs and gazed up at the ceiling.

“You lied. You told me he sleeps all night and isn’t any trouble.”

“It’s your fault. You got him excited about those blocks and he couldn’t fall asleep.”

Gavin groaned. “How am I going to explain the crayon marks on the wall? I swear I took my eyes off him for a second.”

“They’re washable.” The image of the successful, smooth tycoon chasing a toddler flashed before her. A giggle burst from her lips.

“What?”

“You may be able to close a million-dollar deal, but I never saw such a look of fear when Stephen told you he did poop.”

“I think you broke our truce. That was definitely an insult.”

“Just an observation.”

“If I had any strength left I’d kiss you so we’d be even. Did anyone ever tell you how beautiful you look with your hair spread out on the carpet?”

“You’re delusional.”

A comfortable silence settled between them. “I thought Andy had two kids.”

“His daughter is at a slumber party tonight. She’s at that stage where she thinks she’s too cool for a babysitter.”

“Have Andy and Elaine been married long?”

She turned her head to the right and caught a glimpse of his profile. The thought of his mouth sliding, wet and hot, over hers caused a shiver to race down her spine. Damn, she was exhausted. Time to get her mind out of the gutter. “About ten years. I guess Andy was working at another paper and interviewed Elaine for an article on fitness. She managed a health club. He was too shy to ask her out so he ended up writing a different column on her every day for two weeks. His editor finally dragged him in and made him ask her out. They were married a year later.”

Gavin rolled to the side. Propping his head on the side of her head, he studied her in thoughtful silence. Her heart stopped, then burst into rapid staccato. He reached out and ran one finger down her cheek, then drew back as if he remembered his promise.

“It was their karma.”

She swallowed. As if his words weaved a spell, she waited for his mouth to take hers. His quick, indrawn breath cut through the air as he recognized her surrender, and the silence pulsed with electricity. He half closed his eyes. The delicious scents of lemon and spice swarmed her. He leaned in, and she let out a sigh of release. She wouldn’t have to make a choice, because he’d make one for her.

He moved away with a low mutter. “Would Andy mind if I made a fire?” he asked.

She blinked. The air cooled without his body heat near. “No, go ahead. The room’s a bit chilly.”

She remained silent as he made the fire, and when the quick snap of wood caught flame echoed in the air, she remembered how many times they made love in front of Gavin’s fireplace while they listened to the opera.

“You’re thinking about it, too.”

Miranda closed her eyes and tried to will away the memory. “I don’t want to think about the past.”

“I know.” He settled back on the carpet and stretched jean-clad legs in front of him. “I remember the first night I took you to the Met. You’d never seen the opera before, and I warned you most people found the music boring. You insisted you’d love it.”

A reluctant laugh escaped her lips. “My grandmother loved the movie Moonstruck. We used to watch it together. Cher wore a beautiful red dress to the Metropolitan, and when Nicholas Cage took one look at her, I knew he fell madly in love. After that, I longed to see an opera.”

“Hmm, at least you didn’t admire Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. If my memory is correct, she shared her love for Madame Butterfly with her lover. Then she tried to kill the poor guy.”

She sniffed. “You’re making fun of me.”

Gavin chuckled. “I never saw the movie, but you beat Cher out. You wore green, the exact color of your eyes. The dress had that hood wrap thing, and when you loosened the cloth, all I could see was fiery red curls spilling around your face.”

She caught her breath at the vivid description. “You remember detail well.”

“I remember you.” He paused. “We saw La Traviata. You gripped my hand so hard I thought I’d be crippled by the finale.”

“I didn’t want her to die.”

He nodded. “During the last scene, you cried. Of course, you used to cry over everything. Songs on the radio. Television commercials. Those awful Lifetime movies you always watched. You didn’t budge from the chair at the end, and insisted the composer made a terrible mistake.”

“I was a bit emotional. I hoped for a happier ending.”

“Operas never have happy endings. That’s why people always remember them.”

She retreated from the brief flash of pain. “Yes.” Silence fell over the room. The steady tick of the clock on the mantle mingled with the snap of wood. Shadows danced against the wall. She heard her name whispered from far away. Too tired to fight the raging swirl of emotions, sleep dragged her down and claimed her, and she welcomed it, knowing it would stop the endless array of emotions slowly torturing her.

The words raked across her ears in a caress and melted into the misty fringes of sleep.

“It was never just sex. I loved you.”

…

Gavin stared into the dancing flames and whispered the words to the woman beside him. “It was never just sex. I loved you.” He gave a soft laugh. “I convinced myself it was only an affair, but every time I held you in my arms, I felt whole. No other woman has been able to make me feel complete. I don’t think any other woman ever will.”

He waited for her response, but only the sounds of snapping logs broke the silence. He dragged in a lungful of air and decided to turn around. Maybe if he looked into her eyes when he said the words, she’d finally believe him. Maybe he’s see a gleam of surrender and know there was a chance. Maybe—

He gazed into her face.

She was asleep.

He blinked. No fucking way. His big confession caused the woman to fall into slumber.

Gavin half groaned at the irony. Why was he surprised? Even sleeping, the woman drove him crazy. He ran a finger down her cheek. Warm, satiny skin. Her strawberries and cream scent drifted around him and caused an instant erection. He shifted as the primitive need to plunge between her thighs took fierce hold. God, he wanted her. Wanted to taste every inch of her skin, bring those animal sounds of pleasure to her lips, and bury himself deep inside her tight, clinging heat.

He’d never been able to keep his hands off her. He’d never had a problem controlling his lust before, or even the basic need to hear her voice and touch her. But nothing could happen until he regained one basic block of foundation.

Trust.

He needed to get his lady to trust him again, and that required keeping his hands off her. At least, for a while. Two weeks. Maybe one.

Ah, hell, he’d barely last another twenty-four hours.

The inner voice mocked his thoughts.

What will happen when your time is up?

He dragged in a breath. He never intended on staying. He had commitments to a company who’d given him a chance to make his dreams come true. Yet, the woman who’d haunted his memories and dreams was here in New York. And lately, he felt more comfortable wearing a waiter’s uniform than a Prada suit.

It was as if a fork in the road opened before him. He ached to claim her again. Give himself to her as fully as she’d given of herself years ago. If he used the time wisely, he may discover if something remained from the ashes of the relationship.

Hell, Phoenix rose from the debris. Maybe so could they.

Except she deliberately wrote that review with one intention: to destroy him, and Mia Casa.

The primitive in him roared at the injustice of her act the same time he ached to bury himself between her thighs. He was betting he’d be able to convince her to write the second review, but at what cost? If he had to end up choosing between his family’s legacy and the lost love of his life, what decision would he make?

The questions whirled in his head and made his temples pound.

Andy and Elaine were due home soon, and his gut told him to disappear. Emotions ran deep this evening, and when Miranda woke, she’d be forced to deal with them. He needed to give her the time and space. Maybe he’d have a plan put together to get everything he wanted.

Two days. He’d wait two days, and then he’d call her.

Gavin checked on the sleeping toddler, washed up, and left.

…

Miranda juggled two grocery bags and kicked the door shut behind her. She dumped the bags and wrinkled her nose. Huh. Her apartment smelled quite…fragrant.

Oh, crap.

She widened her eyes at the sight of dozens of roses. Scattered on tables, glass countertops, even her bookcase. Brilliant colors blended together in a dazzling array, making her blink to test the reality of the image.

Damn. Gavin Luciano struck again.

Miranda grumbled under her breath and stomped to the refrigerator. The man didn’t know when to stop. After the night they spent at Andy’s, she woke to find him gone. Asshole. He had that move down like an expert. It was just like him to begin breaking down some of her barriers, and then take off for greener pastures when the impulse struck. At least she knew she was done this time. One hundred percent over him. She craved stability and peace. Gavin dumped her life upside down and shook out the contents. She prepared for his call the next day and pumped herself up to give him the kiss-off speech of the century.

But he never called. She threw a bag of lettuce, apples, and cheese into the crisper, and squirmed. The man waited two whole days to contact her, then acted outraged when she told him she never wanted to see him. Again.

Miranda took out the Ginseng tea, along with the honey chamomile, to hopefully help her sleep. Any other man would accept her decision and move on. Not Gavin. So he’d started with the gifts.

First candy. He must have bought out every Godiva truffle in Manhattan, in every size, shape, and flavor. She took one box home and gave the rest to her coworkers. At least he remembered her weakness for chocolate. Not that it mattered.

Then the music. An iPod filled will all of her favorite songs, all with a theme. Romance and forgiveness. The man even slipped in Barry Manilow—her secret passion.

Now flowers. She peeked into the living room and gazed at the sensual beauty filling up every space. She adored roses.

Who cared that he was good at remembering what a woman liked? Probably a talent he used to seduce females into his bed. Their relationship was over, and roses and candy and music did not make up for the past. She filled the kettle and began to settle into her evening tea when the bell rang. Another delivery? Great. She trashes his restaurant, and he sends her flowers. Sounded like a bad country song. She flung open the door.

“Why won’t you take my calls?”

Miranda crossed her arms in front of her chest. “How’d you get those roses in my apartment without a key?”

“I know people.”

“Great. Mafia florists.” He brushed past her and walked in. She closed the door in resignation. “Gavin, what do you want?”

“I want to know why you won’t talk to me. I thought we connected at Andy’s.”

She arched a brow. “We connected so much you stumbled to the door in a haste to get away. When things get emotional, you leave. You’re the same man you were before, and I was a fool to forget. You can only be involved with a woman if you’re completely in control of the situation.”

Understanding dawned on his face. He groaned and rubbed his temple. “Ah, shit, now I know why you’re so mad. It’s because I left before you woke, isn’t it?”

She shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

Gavin swore under his breath. “I can’t believe this. For the first time in my life, I try to do the right thing and I fuck up. Miranda, I thought you’d want some space. I decided to leave because I didn’t want to push, and when Andy and Elaine came back I didn’t want you to feel awkward.”

She stared at him warily. “Is that why you didn’t call?”

He nodded. “I wanted to give you two days. I figured it was a good time for you to come to terms with rebuilding this relationship. I wanted to text or call, but I thought you needed time.”

Suddenly drained, her shoulders slumped. She sat down on one of the counter stools. “I can’t do this anymore, Gavin.”

Was that a flicker of fear on his face? Probably just a trick of the light. “Do what, baby?”

“Something happened at Andy’s. I felt—I felt almost as if I was discovering you all over again. Part of me wanted to surrender, and the other part knew I could never trust you.”

He took the stool next to her. His voice was gentle was he spoke. “I’m different, Miranda. We’re different.”

The woman she was years ago craved to believe him. The woman she was today laughed in scorn. Gavin wanted a second review—that was the main item on his agenda, and she’d be a fool to forget it. After all, this was his family. He hadn’t chosen her over his career before. Why would she possibly think he’d pick her over Mia Casa now?

“Do you really want to give us a chance? Or do you want a better review?”

He stiffened and seemed to choose his words with care. “How about both? If I thought your article was fair, I’d step away and stop asking. But this could be the difference between bankruptcy and saving the restaurant that’s been in my family for generations.”

God, she didn’t want to feel all these emotions. Didn’t want to question herself any longer. Need and fear and a lingering pain rose up and swamped her. She needed to make a final decision. Let go of the past and give Gavin another chance. Or walk away and get on with her life.

She wanted to trust him. But the image of her crying and alone, with no one to turn to taunted her vision. Miranda vowed never to experience such gripping sadness, and this was the same man who caused it. So she did the only thing she knew.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she repeated softly. “I know you told me the reason you left, but for three years you never contacted me. Never wondered what you left behind, or what I had to go through when I tried to call the next day and opened up a neat, cold email.” She stopped, refusing to share what else he had left behind. The past was the past, and it was time she moved on. “I don’t believe I really meant anything to you. That’s what I can’t forgive.”

His hands gripped the counter as he bowed his head, seeming to struggle with her final answer. When he rose, his face reflected a battle-scarred weariness. “I understand.” He reached inside his jacket pocket and tossed a handful of envelopes on the table. “I’m not giving you these to change your mind. I can’t take away the past, but at least you can see I wasn’t lying. I thought about you every day. Those are just a few of the letters I wrote, and I wanted to mail them, but—” he broke off in disgust. “Doesn’t matter.”

“I’ve pushed too hard because that’s what I’ve always done when I want something. Seems I have lousy timing learning when I should back off and when I should stick.” He gave a self-mocking laugh. “But I want to learn. I know you have little reason to trust me. We have a special celebration tonight at the restaurant to reveal the new lounge. I want you to come with me. Meet my parents. See a part of my heritage and my past.” His eyes blazed with intensity. “I’m asking you to give me this one night to show you who I am. Share what I was too fucking selfish to give you before. I don’t want to hurt you anymore, Miranda.” His voice turned ragged. “And if you don’t show up tonight, I won’t bother you again.”

He left.

She touched the crinkled stack of letters bound in a worn rubber band. Pain and longing hit her gut. His words reached deep inside and stirred up a mess of emotions she thought were compartmentalized. Did she really want to open herself back up to rejection? How many times had crazy hope driven her to think this time it would be different?

She remembered her mother returning home from rehab, smelling clean and fresh and sweet. Her long red hair caught the light of the sun as they sat in the living room together, reading books and doing puzzles on the glass table. She sensed this time, her mother was healed. This time, she would stay with her and Grandma, and they’d be happy and normal. She ignored the worried gleam in her grandmother’s eyes. Refused to see the tremble of her mother’s fingers as she lit cigarette after cigarette. The whispered phone calls out on the porch. The beginning of the decline, all over again.

Miranda hugged her arms around her middle. So stupid. Within a few days, the drugs were back. The strangers hovered outside, with the crazy eyes and mismatched clothes. When she woke up, her grandmother cooked her breakfast in the tiny, silent kitchen. And Miranda knew her mother had left again, for the lure of the drugs and unnamed, faceless people who didn’t care.

They never spoke of her again.

A shudder wracked her body. Opening herself back up to Gavin held no purpose. Yet, the thought of meeting his family tantalized like a pair of Manolos on sale in Payless. One night. No promises. He’d already vowed to leave her alone if she asked. Somehow, she sensed his own pain when he talked of their past. But it was too late. And no letters were going to make up for it, either.

She opened the kitchen drawer and stuffed the stack of envelopes way in the back. She now retained complete control. Perhaps, by meeting his family and finally seeing him in his own personal element, she’d be able to gain more closure. Closure to finally walk away without a backward glance or a hitch of her heart.

And of course, the last word.

Finally.

Miranda stood in the kitchen for a long time before she made her decision.

Chapter Five

“Mama, Pop, this is Miranda Storme.”

Miranda shifted her feet as the elderly couple stared at her in astonishment. Damn, she’d known this was a mistake. Why would Gavin’s parents welcome her to their restaurant when she’d been the one to trash it in the first place? She craved to remain in the background and observe tonight, but the moment she appeared he dragged her back toward the kitchen. Sweat dampened her palms and she fought the urge to swipe them down her skirt.

As if he sensed her anxiety, Gavin linked his fingers within hers. Gently, he squeezed, and she relaxed at the full impact of his support.

His father cleared his throat. “Um, are you the Miranda Storme who did the review?”

“Yes, sir. I’m afraid I am.”

The couple exchanged glances. “I see,” Archimedes Luciano said. “Are you here to do a second review?”

“She’s with me, Pop. Miranda’s my date tonight.” Gavin flashed her a mischievous grin. “And she says she won’t do a second review under any circumstances.”

Gray brows slammed together. “You dated my son years ago, yes?”

She nodded.

Archimedes glared at Gavin. “You messed up the relationship, didn’t you?”

Gavin winced. “Yeah.”

His father let out a long stream of Italian. Miranda figured the words weren’t meant to be said in polite company since his wife gasped and cut him off with one sharp command. “Passion without pain, sunshine without rainy days, huh? You wanted it all, but you lost a little thing called love. True love. Real life does not work like this, Giovanni.”

She turned with fascination and caught a flush on her ex-lover’s cheeks. “Giovanni?”

“I don’t answer to that name,” he stated with a straight face. “Stop quoting Sinatra, pop. That’s not what happened.”

His father snorted. “Everything about life is learned from Frank. I have told you this over and over, but you still refuse to listen.” He focused his attention on her. “My son does many mistakes, but he’s trying to make up for them. I just have one question to ask you, signorina.”

She swallowed. “Yes, sir?”

“Did the broccoli rabe really taste like rubber?”

Miranda nodded. “I’m afraid it did.”

“Then you told the truth, and my son has another problem to fix. You are welcome here. Gavin tells me he has a surprise for the guests tonight. Yet another unveiling of these so-called modern features that make a successful restaurant.”

She smiled. “Thank you, I’m looking forward to it.”

His mother shook her head and patted her hand. “I agree with my husband. We are honored to have you as our guest.” She wagged a finger at her son. “Just make sure this surprise doesn’t contain anything distasteful. No lewd singers or dancers to bring in customers. No nakedness, either.”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “Mama, give me a break.”

Miranda tried not to giggle. His parents walked away, and she realized Gavin still held her hand. She tugged but he kept his grip, raising her hand to press a kiss against her palm. His steel-blue gaze pierced into hers. “They like you.”

His warm lips skated over her wrist, and her skin prickled. “How can you tell?”

“Pop yelled at me. That’s always a good sign. He also respects your honesty.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, he likes your hair.”

She blinked. “My hair?”

He released her hand and brushed his fingers down over the strands. The curls jumped and wrapped themselves around him. “Fire trapped in satin,” he murmured. “Just like the woman herself.”

A rush of lust hit her hard. She shifted her weight to relieve the ache between her legs. “What about your mother?”

Gavin grinned. “She likes your spirit. She says I usually walk all over women, and Mama admires strength.”

“Funny, I’ve never met them before this.”

He tilted her chin up. “I kept you away from my family because I knew they’d fall in love with you, and then I’d have nothing left to fight.”

She ached to smooth back the unruly curl that fell across his forehead. Trace the heavy line of his brow, the thrust of his jaw, the sensual curve to his lower lip. Instead, she cleared her throat. “Want to give me a full tour?”

He allowed her the space and nodded. “Of course.”

She followed him deeper into the back. Half of the tables were filled, and the clean white tablecloths mocked the loss of the majority of customers.

“I want to show you my vision,” he said. “We were losing a lot of clientele because we lacked features that mark the more New World Italian restaurants.” He stopped at the large modern bar, where the bartender chatted with one of the customers, refilling her glass of red wine. “We renovated the bar for the after work crowd, and added an appetizer menu to bulk up customers at lunch and happy hour.”

“I assume your parents didn’t approve of these renovations?”

“They threw a fit. After I found out Mia Casa was on the verge of bankruptcy, I used my money to overhaul the place and hopefully draw in a new client base. But Mia Casa has always been built on tradition, so my family was afraid we’d lose all the solid customers that started our business in the first place. I’m looking for a balance.”

She nodded. “You’re right. How are you trying to draw people in?”

“We’re advertising entertainment on weekends now. Come on, I’ll show you the lounge.” They walked into the back room, which was set up with a sleek black piano and dance floor. Rich Tuscan landscape paintings and tapestries hung on the walls, and simple arrangements of fresh flowers rested on low tables. Candles filled the room and added to the intimate atmosphere.

“It’s beautiful. I like the way you set up the seating. There’s enough space in between tables to guarantee privacy.”

“That’s what I wanted. Tonight is the grand opening of the lounge. Our singer starts at nine.”

Her lip twitched. “Lady GaGa?”

His face was deadpan. “No, Kid Rock.”

She laughed. “Your mother will be thrilled.”

“Hey, Gavin! I got a huge problem at table four, I need you now—oh, hi, Miranda.” Brando stopped short in front of them. “How ya doing?”

“Good, Brando. How’s Tracey?”

He beamed. “She’s great. She told me you went to check out her pizza place and that you told the manager she was one of the best waitresses in town.”

Gavin lifted his brow. “You actually went to that dive in the Village?”

Brando stuck out his lower lip. “It’s not a dive, they have the best Sicilian. Right, Miranda?”

“I have to agree with your younger brother. Sal’s Slice is certainly not a dive.”

Gavin groaned. “I can’t believe this. You trash Mia Casa and give four stars to his girlfriend’s pizza place.”

“I call them as I see them.”

“Yeah, Gavin. If you didn’t act like such an idiot years ago, maybe she’d have given us a break. And she was right. The broccoli rabe sucked.”

Gavin put up a hand. “No more. Don’t give the woman ammunition. I’m trying to convince her to do a second review.”

Brando snorted. “She never does second reviews. Get over it.”

She bit her lip hard.

“So you’ve been reminding me. What’s the trouble with table four?”

“They want me to bring over a side of sauce for their linguini.”

“So?”

“They’re having the linguini with garlic and oil.”

Gavin winced. “You can’t put sauce over that type of dish.”

“Yeah, but they’re not Italian. They don’t get it. Anyway, Tony refuses to give them the sauce. Says it will ruin his reputation.”

Gavin shook his head. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Hey, can I work the bar?”

“You’re under age.”

The famous pout rested on Brando’s lips. “I won’t drink, I just want to serve. I’m sick of waiting tables.”

Gavin sighed and turned to her. “Would you excuse me for a moment? I need to get some things settled with the staff.”

“Sure, go ahead. I’ll sit at the bar.”

The brothers left the room and a grin tugged at her lips. She’d never seen this side of her old lover. Watching him not so in control of the elements made him more approachable. Human. A flare of hope ignited. Was it possible to get a second chance?

Or did Gavin just want to save his family restaurant?

Miranda pushed away the disturbing question and headed toward the bar.

…

He wasn’t happy.

Miranda threw back her head and laughed at something the bartender said. A rush of possessiveness settled over him, and his hands clenched around the china as he fought the urge to howl and drag her away. He knew Dominick was happily married, but it didn’t stop the man’s gaze from roaming appreciatively over her body. And he seemed to lean in a bit too close when he spoke.

“No, I asked for the chicken Parmesan,” Gavin’s customer told him as he set the plate down.

“I’m sorry, my mistake.” He shook his head to clear it and switched the plates to their correct positions. “Can I get you another glass of wine?”

“No, thanks, Gavin. How about some more bread?”

He nodded. “I’ll be right back, Mr. Diamonte.”

Gavin muttered a curse as he hurried back to the kitchen. He’d invited her out for a romantic evening and ended up taking over the role of waiter. He was going to kill Brando. His half-hour break now stretched to over an hour. Probably making out with Tracey in the car, and God knows that could take forever. Gavin glanced once more to his date, but she seemed perfectly at ease with Dominick’s company. And Antonio’s. And Pop’s. Hell, even the singer he hired stopped to introduce himself and chat. Everyone seemed to get a chance to enjoy her company except him.

The smell of smoke made him turn left. He stopped at the corner table where Pop and his Sinatra crew played cards, drank wine, and snuck cigarettes. When had he become the straight one in the family? “Pop, what are you doing?”

His father waved him off. “Cosmo isn’t hurting anyone by having a quick smoke.”

Gavin crossed his arms over his chest and gave him his best hard ass stare. The other members of the group ignored him and concentrated on their hand. Cosmo was second in charge, evident in his appearance. A thick gray mustache set off a face that would make any gangster proud, but he’d gone bald years ago. His thick black glasses hid a sharp gaze that had run a successful place in Little Italy, before he gave it up to his two sons and hung out with his posse across town.

“Cigarettes kill you. Gives you cancer, stroke, and heart attack. Is that what you all want?”

Cosmo snorted in a cloud of smoke. “Sinatra smoked every day of his life and made it into his nineties. This world has become too soft.”

The third member of the group, Vinnie, nodded. Instead of wine, his fingers clasped the tiny shot glasses of Grappa. Gavin always wondered how the man walked straight. The grainy Italian liquor was hard-core, and he drank it all night long without even a slight buzz marring his poker game. Vinnie sported the old-fashioned white button-down shirt, slacks, and sports jacket. Old school about his appearance, he always showed up dressed like he was going out on a hot date rather than getting drunk at the bar with his friends.

Vinnie hummed the first bar of a song. Pop jumped in. “Don’t Worry About Me,” he boomed.

Cosmo cursed. “I shoulda had that one.”

Gavin blew out a breath. Didn’t they ever talk in anything but Sinatra code? “Fine, if I won’t change your mind by threats of death, how about jail? You’re breaking the law. No smoking inside of restaurants. Put it out, Cosmo.”

The thick gold ring around his finger gleamed in the light. He muttered something in Italian and stubbed out the cigarette. “Ridiculous. You’re gonna ruin my game.”

Pop glared at him.

He confiscated the ashtray and the lighters. “No more smoking.”

Cosmo glanced at his hand and threw in two more chips. “Luck Be A Lady Tonight, gentlemen.”

The men grumbled and went back to their game.

Gavin smothered a laugh and left. He dropped off a basket of bread and checked Antonio’s progress in the kitchen. His chef shook his head in disgust when he entered. “You are screwing up again, Gavin.”

“I’m trying to keep the evening running smoothly. Who would’ve thought Pop hung out with the bad crowd?”

“You will lose your lady. You haven’t even danced with her tonight, and you leave her in the company of Dominick for entertainment.”

“He’s married with kids.”

Antonio sighed. “He cheats on his wife. This I know for a fact.”

Gavin paused for a beat, then ripped off his apron. “When Brando gets here, tell him to set up cappuccino for table five. I’m taking a break.”

He strode to the bar and took a seat next to her. She tapped the edge of her glass with one cherry red fingernail as she listened to Dominick amuse her with stories about the business. Gavin casually reached under the bar and slid one hand to the top of her thigh, stopping at the hem of her short black dress. Her quick indrawn breath danced in his ears.

Dominick seemed to sense her distraction and paused. “Hey, Gavin, how are you? Just keeping this lovely lady company while you take care of business.”

Gavin smiled. “How’s Deborah doing? And the kids, of course.”

Color stained the man’s cheeks. “Uh, fine, just fine. Be right back.” He flew to the end of the bar and left them alone.

Miranda glanced at him from under lowered lashes. “Were you trying to prove a point?”

His fingers glided over her silk-clad legs, and her sleek muscles flexed under his touch. He grew to rock hard status and shifted uncomfortably as he imagined stripping off that dress and getting her naked and ready. Damn, she was beautiful. Classy. Sexy. It’d be a miracle if he got through the evening without taking her in the stockroom. Instead, he focused on conversation. “I just asked about his family. You knew he had a family, right?”

She emitted a throaty gasp when his hand dipped under the sensitive flesh behind her knee. “The subject never came up, but I did notice the wedding ring. You didn’t have to play the role of possessive caveman, you know. What are you doing?”

“Touching you.” He gritted his teeth as the wave of lust hit him hard. “I’m frustrated. I’ve been watching you all night, smiling and laughing with other men, and all I want to do is hold you in my arms. Strip off that little black dress. Kiss you, make you moan, drive inside you over and over—”

“Gavin!” Her lower lip trembled. “Don’t say those things. And no—no touching.”

He reluctantly let his fingers drop from the path of Eden. “Why?”

“Because. You’re not getting me into bed tonight just because you invited me out once. Plus, we’re in a public place.”

He shot her a grin. “Never stopped us before.”

Sexual tension squeezed between them. A flash of recognition crossed her face. Gavin remembered the times they met for lunch, and ended up racing to the nearest taxicab to get home. The hands under the table. The whispers behind menus. And of course, the time in the unisex bathroom…

“We’re in your parents’ restaurant.” She reached for her wine glass. “I’m not like that anymore. I was more impulsive, and now I’m interested in sophisticated conversation. Friendship. Dependability.”

He chuckled. “All that stuff is good, baby, but if the chemistry isn’t right, you’ll end up with a nice friend who happens to be in bed with you. For the rest of your life.”

“If you settle for just sex, you won’t have anyone waking up with you in the morning. Six weeks and he’ll be running for the door.”

Gavin laughed. “Nice hit.” He stroked her hair, then ran a finger down her cheek. She shuddered. “That’s why we’re going to have both.”

Her pupils dilated. If he pushed hard, she’d buckle. But he didn’t want to win her body. He craved more. His past actions stripped away her confidence in him, and he longed to heal the wounds. Gavin wanted her to feel safe in his arms again. Words wouldn’t convince her. Sex wouldn’t, either. Just time, though he didn’t have much left.

The calls were beginning. The company wanted him back sooner, and though his official leave gave him eight more weeks, the pressure was on for him to take over an important foreign deal. The younger associate didn’t have the skills, and MacKenzie & Associates were afraid of a screw up. They needed a closer.

Him.

He pushed away the thought and concentrated on the present. How long had he lived by the creed of bigger, better, and now? Never able to enjoy his success in the moment, and never satisfied for long. His time in India clarified what he needed to do. Slow down. Focus. Savor. And be grateful for all.

Starting with Miranda.

“Will you dance with me?” His voice came out hoarse. Crap, he felt like he was at prom with sweaty palms, hoping not to get shot down. “For a little while I want to hold you and close my eyes. Pretend I hadn’t fucked up. Pretend you belong to me again.”

Her startled gaze studied his face for a long time. Without a word, she slid her hand into his and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. The singer was a nice blend of old and new, offering classics for the traditional crowd earlier on, then switching to current popular songs for the younger partiers. Gavin stopped and motioned him over, giving his request, then eased Miranda into his arms.

She fit in his arms as if they’d never been apart. The years melted away and became a distant memory. His body remembered the familiar rhythm and settled as if he was home. Thigh brushed against thigh, and his hips cradled hers. He buried his hands in the silky waves curling down her back, and the tight nubs of her nipples against his chest told him she was just as aroused. The creamy tone of I’ve Got You Under My Skin drifted in his ears.

“God, Red, you could always drive a man to his knees.”

Her thigh slid between his legs and her knee lifted slightly. He sucked in his breath as the slither of silk rushed past his ears, and warm flesh pressed against his erection. Her body trembled, and a fierce rush of satisfaction shot through him. His lady may fight her emotions, but on a primitive scale, her body surrendered.

“I won’t go to bed with you tonight, Gavin.”

A strangled laugh escaped his lips at her candor. “You always did know how to let a man down easy. Do you think I’d force you?”

Miranda snorted. “Your skills of persuasion were worse. But I won’t let you seduce me. I meant what I said. I need friendship and trust. I don’t want to be impulsive anymore.”

Worry nibbled at his usual confidence. “I know. I don’t expect you to be the same person. It’s just that I feel this wall around you, and I don’t know how to fight through.” He forced a smile. “But I don’t expect miracles. I knew this would take time.”

“Gavin—”

“Hush.” He dropped a kiss on her temple and held her closer. “The song’s almost over.”

They were quiet for a while and moved gracefully across the floor. “I remember Sinatra songs used to make you cry.”

She hesitated. “I don’t cry. Not anymore.”

His arms tightened around her but he didn’t respond. Another scar. One he’d probably caused. What had happened after he left? Had another asshole hurt her? Betrayed her trust? A wave of anger rushed over him when he thought of the laughing, open woman she’d been when they met. The thought he’d accomplished it all by himself disgusted him. How selfish he’d been. How much he needed to make up for.

Applause swept through the room at the close of the song. Gavin led her back to the main dining room. “Did Tony set you up with an appetizer sample?” he asked.

She shot him a look. “Yes. He let me gorge for free and then mentioned he had three kids to support if the restaurant went under.”

Gavin laughed. “I swear I didn’t put him up to that.”

“Hmm. You did always prefer the direct approach.”

He paused. “We’re all invested in Mia Casa. I’m sure you take that into consideration every time you rate a restaurant with low marks. Don’t you?”

She flinched. Yes, there was definitely a flare of guilt and rebellion in those gorgeous eyes. “Sure. But I told the truth, and that’s what counts.”

“I know. But I also noticed when you rated Billy’s Steak House three stars, you made note the meat was tough, the service was poor, but you concentrated on the entire experience. Did you do that with us, Miranda?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but looked over his shoulder with a frown. “Gavin, what’s going on over there?”

His gaze followed her curious stare to where a small crowd gathered around one of the tables. He spotted Brando standing a few feet away, apparently frozen by the scene. Then he heard the scream.

“He’s choking! Somebody, please help him!”

Ignoring his rapidly pounding heart, Gavin raced to the center of the group. A young man clutched at his throat. His eyes bulged and his skin turned an odd purple color.

He tried five hard slaps in the middle of his shoulder blades. When nothing dislodged, Gavin grabbed the man from behind, slipped his arms around his stomach, and made a fist with his two hands. Quickly finding the right position, he gave one upward thrust.

Nothing.

Gavin took a deep breath and remained calm. Deliberately shutting out the noise and panic around him, he repositioned his hands and once again jerked upward.

Something dislodged from the man’s throat and flew across the room.

The man gasped for air. Gavin almost sank to the floor in relief as he let him go, stepping back as the woman threw herself into the man’s arms, crying. After a few moments, he tried to calm the other patrons and guided them back to their tables.

“Are you okay, sir?” he asked the young man.

Gratitude shone in the man’s eyes. “Yes. God, it all happened so fast, and I couldn’t get a breath. I don’t know how to thank you.”

The woman tearfully agreed.

Gavin shook his head. “You don’t have to, I’m just glad you’re all right.” He chatted with them a few moments, then left to search for Miranda.

She stood at the back of the room. A strange expression flickered across her face. “You saved his life.”

He shifted his feet uncomfortably. Ah, hell, he didn’t want that hero shit. “Any of my staff members could have helped him. We’re all trained to handle choking using abdominal thrusts. It’s part of the requirement.”

“I’m sure they could. But there were other servers in that room, and nobody moved. They were in shock.”

He frowned. “Funny, I thought I saw Brando by their table. Did you see him?”

She nodded. “He went out back after everyone calmed down. I think he’s upset.”

“I have to talk to him. Will you wait for me a little longer?”

She smiled, slow and sweet, and his heart stuttered. “Yes.”

He made a mental note to thank her properly later and went in search of his brother.

The smell of smoke wafted in the air as he shut the door behind him. Brando leaned against the wall near the Dumpster. He took a drag on his cigarette and stared out into the night. One look told him his younger brother struggled with some demons.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

Brando gave him a disgusted look. “You don’t know a lot of things about me. And Pop doesn’t know, either, so don’t go trying to tattle.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “It’s your life. If you want to die young, feel free.” Silence settled between them. The familiar sounds of the city drifted in the background. The stench of food and garbage rose up to greet him. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

The tip of the cigarette glowed fiercely in the darkness. “You’re pissed at me, aren’t you, Brando?”

His younger brother shrugged. “Why would I be mad at you? You’re perfect. You leave the family and become rich. You travel around the world and see exotic places. Then when you decide to come home, Pop flings open his arms and gives over the restaurant. Hell, you even know how to save a man’s life. Who can compete?”

Gavin leaned over and plucked a cigarette from the pack. The hell with it. He was tired of being the smoking police. Brando opened his mouth to protest, but fascination seemed to win as he watched Gavin take a long drag.

“You’re right,” he said. “I do sound perfect, don’t I? But I took the easy route. I left. You stayed. You gave Pop hope you’d run the restaurant and love it the way he does. I’m only the guy with the money.” Regret coursed through him at the loss. “Pop wants to see you go to college, get an education, and come back and kick ass. This is your inheritance, Brando. I’m just trying to keep it going until you claim it.”

Brando frowned. “But Pop always said Mia Casa was yours.”

A grim smile curved his lips. “I gave up my opportunity when I left. I want to use my money to make it great again, but Pop always said a restaurant is only sustained through heart. You’re the heart, Brando.”

“I screwed up.” Self-disgust flicked through his words. “I want to do better, but I’m worried all the time. Afraid if I don’t give Tracey enough time, she’ll leave me. Afraid I’ll just be a glorified waiter instead of the real owner. I’m not responsible enough to inherit Mia Casa.”

The truth of his brother’s fear hit deep and reminded him so much of his own worries. Trapped by the same daily routine. Terrified of failure and craving to make his own mark, in his own way. He rarely had the opportunity to talk straight to his younger brother, especially after he left for so many years.

Gavin dragged in a breath. “Listen up. You’re supposed to be a bit irresponsible. Hell, you just graduated high school, Brando, give yourself a break. When I started, I was a waiter for a long time—that’s how you learn the business, from the ground up. But you’re not running away. You want to study, stay, learn. And I believe you can.”

His brother flicked the ash and seemed to contemplate his words. “Yeah, but you do things,” he burst out. “Back inside, I knew that man was choking. I saw him, and I should have been able to do something. Instead, I just stood there and watched. I couldn’t move. If you hadn’t been there he would have—” he turned his head away.

Gavin kept his voice gentle. “Do you think at seventeen years old I could have done any different? That was an intense scene, and sometimes you shut down. Shit happens. Dominick was also in the room, and he had the same problem. I may have been able to move, but I was scared out of my mind.”

“You were?”

“Hell, yes, do you think I’m Superman? I wasn’t sure I could get the thing out of his throat, and then I’d be responsible for his death.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Brando flung the butt on the ground and crushed it beneath his shoe. “Did Pop see any of the scene?”

“No, he was in the kitchen with Tony.”

“Are you gonna tell him?”

“No reason to.”

Brando nodded. “Thanks.”

“Nothing to tell. Of course, if he catches you smoking, you’re screwed.”

“He smokes with his posse.”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “He’s just showing off for them. He’s always been against cigarettes.”

“I only have one when I’m stressed. I don’t like it much, anyway.”

“Okay. I better get inside to Miranda.” He opened the door but his brother’s voice made him turn back around. “Yeah?”

Brando hesitated. “I know Pop forgives you for leaving. So do I.”

Relief rushed through him. He hadn’t realized how badly he wanted his brother to understand his regrets. The distance between them melted away. He remembered the day he left. Brando stood on the curb with ferocious resentment and something deeper. Something that kept him up at night the same way Miranda haunted him.

Betrayal.

He’d hurt the people he loved the most. Back then, he didn’t give a shit. Today, he knew he’d give up all his money to build back the foundation with them both. His throat tightened with wimpy emotion but he forced himself to sound casual. “Thanks.”

“Gavin?”

“Hmm?”

“I think Miranda Storme will eventually forgive you, too.”

“God, I hope so. I broke up with her in an email.”

His brother winced. “Bad move, dude. She still looks into you, though. You probably need to really dig deep. Tell her all your feelings and stuff. Girls like that.”

Gavin laughed. “I’m trying. But I’m dealing with a ticking time bomb. She knows I need to leave soon, so she’s afraid to trust me.”

Brando crinkled his brow. “I don’t get it. Why start something with her you may not be able to continue?”

“I’m gonna take her with me.” The truth smacked him like a wet towel. Until he uttered the words, he hadn’t known how he’d handle the problem of his job. He had a few weeks left to gain back her trust. Her love. Then he’d ask her to come with him.

Miranda never had the ability to travel and see the world. He imagined showing her various cultures and feasting on gourmet food. She’d probably love writing for an international magazine about her experiences. They’d build a new life on their own terms.

Yes. This was a win/win.

“Good plan. But I don’t think she’ll do the second review.”

Gavin grinned. “You’re probably right. See you back in there.”

“Gavin?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

His chest tightened and he tried to make sure his voice didn’t sound girly. “No problem.”

Gavin shut the door behind him.

…

He had saved a life.

Miranda sipped her Chianti in the new lounge and let the lyrics of Tony Bennett soothe her ears. The way Gavin reacted to the crisis gave her a glimpse of both the new and old Gavin. Smoothly in control, he was still able to wrest the lead in a situation and follow it through. That part never surprised her.

It was the other half. His true humbleness from the gesture. In the past, he wore his arrogance like a cloak, sure of himself in every area. The way he quickly hurried after his brother and didn’t linger on his current hero status told her he’d changed.

Which did not bode well for her decision to never see him again.

A familiar voice jolted her thoughts.

“Miranda Eats?”

Her gaze flew up to a face she would have rather avoided. Especially tonight. “Allison Speaks.” She practically growled the word of her die-hard competitor. The woman hated her and focused her mission on sabotaging Miranda’s career. Allison Wheaton, food critic extraordinaire and mortal enemy, stood before her. Her proper appearance even on a Friday evening bespoke a woman always on the hunt for the next great find. Her signature black consisted of a pencil skirt, proper pumps, and a silk blouse. Elegant, understated, sophisticated. Too bad her dark eyes were flat and mean as a shark about to bite.

“Slumming, Storme?”

“Following me again, Wheaton?” she drawled.

The woman drew herself up and flicked her a cold glance. “As if. We were at the Met and decided to stop for a drink.”

Interest stirred. “Pagliacci?”

“Yes. It was divine, as I thought.”

“How was the final arietta?” The opera was her second favorite, haunting and constructed for the real diehards of opera. Its earthy, raw nature bespoke its Italian heritage, and the tragic ending always gave her sleepless nights.

Allison lost her edge for a moment and sighed. “Breathtaking. Canio has a voice as dark and deep as bittersweet chocolate. And Nedda is able to linger and lengthen a note for what seemed like decades. I’m so ruined I needed other music to drown out her voice.”

Miranda made a mental note to get tickets no matter who she dragged with her. “Well, Tony Bennett should accomplish the feat.”

Her nose twitched. “Not really. I’m not sure how I feel about this brand new lounge. I see the overall concept to achieve but don’t think it works.”

Protectiveness roared up. “I think it’s exactly what’s needed in this area. A combination of old and new world we rarely see.”

“You trashed this place. What are you doing here?”

“None of your business. Go find your own restaurants to trash.” Her gaze settled on the man walking up behind her. “Are you still with that dirtbag?”

Allison sucked in her breath. Glints of rage spit out at her. “You’re just jealous he stayed with me after you threw yourself at him.”

Miranda clenched her fists and lowered her voice. “I told you over and over. He came on to me while you were in the other room. I kneed him in the balls and did you a favor by telling you. Even you’re better than this, Allison. And that’s not saying much.”

The famous French chef, known worldwide for his sauces and philandering, pressed a kiss to Allison’s shoulder and cut her a cold glare. “Darling, we should go. I don’t like to see you upset.”

Miranda snorted. “Good luck, buddy. She’s upset twenty-four hours a day.”

Allison stuck her nose in the air. “Check out Gourmet magazine’s issue this month. I’m featured.”

“No way. They’re supposed to run my featured interview this month.”

Triumph shone from her features. “Let’s just say I pulled a few strings and got them to change their mind. You’re on your way out, Storme, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Jealousy fought with her need to stay civil. How was it possible? Gourmet always booked months in advance, and she’d been counting on the publicity to raise stats for her new column. “You’re not going any place good, Wheaton, if you’re still with him.” She jerked her thumb at her companion, who stiffened. He hurried her rival out, soothing her with sugary words that meant nothing, and Miranda drained her glass. Adrenalin rushed through her, a normal response when confronting Allison. She stood up from the table and decided to hunt down Gavin to take her home. She was exhausted and she needed to do some rational thinking about her actions. Did she want to see Gavin again? Her body slammed to life with the answer of hell, yes. Her heart cringed in mortal fear. She’d go home, make some tea, and think in a quiet space.

Satisfied, Miranda threaded her way through the crowds toward the kitchen. Then stopped at the scene in front of her. A group of three men, including Gavin’s father, leaned over a small card table, smoking. One of those smokeless fans had been set up but it wasn’t doing its job, from the trickle of smoke surrounding them. Cards flew through their hands and snippets of their conversation drifted toward her.

“Nah, the rat pack from the fifties were better than the sixties. Can’t mess with Bogie, he was the master.”

A man dressed impeccably in a wool jacket, leather shoes, and fedora gripped his cigar in his teeth and managed to spit. “Bull. Sixties ruled. Sinatra took over as main leader, and Dean and Sammy came to play. That’s who the public really remembers.”

Gavin’s father raised his voice and threw a card in the middle. “Agreed. Ocean’s Eleven brought the whole buddy movie into the spotlight. No one is better than the second crew and that’s the end of it.”

The last member in the threesome lost his temper. Dressed in a wife-beater T-shirt, old man’s pants, and footgear that resembled slippers, his face reddened in fury. “Did you just say that to me? Did you? Ocean’s Eleven did not make the buddy movie popular! Marlon Brando and James Dean brought that element of coolness into the fifties. Anyway, Bogie has always been named the greatest actor. Sinatra couldn’t act to save his life.”

Gavin’s father stood up from the table. His whole body shook as if with fever, and Miranda held her breath, not sure what to do. Rage peppered his words. “You will never speak that way about Frank again. Get out! Out of my restaurant!”

Miranda mashed her hand against her lips, caught between giggling and breaking up a cockfight.

Gavin swooped in. Red stains splattered his apron and crusted his black pants. Sweat trickled from his brow and matted the lone curl that spilled across his forehead. Stress carved out the lines of his face and bracketed his mouth. Fascinated, the scene unfolded before her.

“Okay, boys, enough Grappa for tonight. Pop, sit down, Cosmo didn’t mean it. Did you, Cosmo?”

The other man gave a humph. “Tell him to stop slandering Bogey and I’ll stop with Frank.”

Gavin plucked the bottle of white liquid from the table, and stabbed out their cigars. “Pop, cut it out with torturing Cosmo. You’ve seen Casablanca and The Maltese Falcon a million times.”

“Maybe.”

The friction eased. He waved his hand frantically through the air as smoke wafted to the main dining room. “If anyone here lights one more cigar, you’re outta here. I don’t need a citation or face closing down the place for breaking the smoke laws. Bogey and Sinatra respected and cared about each other. Fighting over them is a crime.”

Cosmo grunted in agreement. “Giovanni is right. I apologize. We should never pit the rat pack against each other. It is a betrayal of all that was good.”

Vinnie and Gavin’s father nodded their head. The tension eased, and they were once again a group of friends playing cards. “Let’s switch to five card stud. Ante up, gentlemen. Giovanni, can we get some tiramisu for the table?”

“Sure, be right back.”

Gavin hurried forward with a worried expression. “Miranda, I’m so sorry. I meant to take you home, but one of the new waiters got into Tony’s station and there was a slight gravy fight I’m trying to help clean up.”

“A gravy fight?”

Gavin groaned. “Tony is very possessive of his ingredients. One of the customers complained it needed more heat, so the new waiter tried to sneak back and put in pepper. Tony caught him. A food fight ensued. I need some ingredients from the storeroom, and now I’m down a waiter since the new guy just took off.”

“Isn’t there salt and pepper on the tables already?”

He winced. “Tony refuses to allow it. Said his food is always cooked to perfection and no other seasoning is needed. We’ve tried sneaking it on the tables a few times, but he always catches it.”

Miranda studied the man before her. The composed, multi-millionaire, cutthroat advertising executive had transformed into a regular guy babysitting his family and trying to save the restaurant he didn’t even want to work in.

A strange warmth bubbled up inside her and melted the wall of ice. “Well, then, I guess I better get to work. Do you have a spare apron?”

He shook his head. “Hell, no, you are not going to waitress tonight. I’ll manage and take you home in a few.”

“Gavin, I worked in restaurants during my studies at the culinary. I know what to do, and you need the help. Now, get me a spare apron and let’s finish this up before the Sinatra club decides to go for another round.”

He hesitated, obviously torn. Practicality won and he let out a breath. “Okay. I’ll be humiliated later. Right now, I’ll take the help.”

She grinned. “Apron, please.”

The next few hours whizzed past. She enjoyed the fast pace, and fell into the old rhythm she’d learned at the culinary, balancing speed with quality service, helping clear and turn over tables quickly to maximize profit. Dominick and Tony enjoyed an easy camaraderie filled with jokes that made the evening enjoyable.

Her most fun was watching Gavin.

Like Hook running a ship of pirates, he kept a firm hand on the staff’s tendency to slack off and morph from organized business to family chaos. His perfect suit and tie were now mussed and slightly wrinkled. He snapped orders, performed round after round of checks in the kitchen, the bar, the tables, and the lounge. He kept his father and cronies in line, and a sharp eye on his younger brother. His entire body vibrated with both tension and an energy she knew personally could be focused on any activity he chose. Like sex.

By the time the last patron left, the dishes were cleaned, and the lounge closed, her feet throbbed and she ached to sleep for ten hours straight. Thank God she had a lazy type of job. She gave a silent prayer of gratitude to all the hard workers in the service industry and leaned against the mahogany bar. “That was intense.”

Gavin laughed and waved to his brother and Dominick. “Yeah. I get to do this tomorrow, too. Not to mention meeting the supplier at six am in order to get Tony his ingredients to prep.” He slid into the bar stool beside her. “Thank you.”

She looked up, startled. A flush of warmth crept into her cheeks. “No problem. I kind of enjoyed it. Brought back memories.”

The easy air between them tightened and thrummed with sexual tension. The blood thickened and pumped through her veins with a pure need to touch him. He’d pushed up his shirt sleeves. His arms were sinewy with muscle, covered in golden hair. She ached to run her nails over all that toasty golden skin and dig in deep. A riptide of liquid warmth rushed and settled between her thighs. “Funny, I’ve got my own memories right now.”

“We should go.”

His eyes darkened to navy and seethed with masculine demand and heat. “Not yet. You deserve a reward for saving my ass tonight.”

She opened her mouth and emitted a squeak. Tried again. “How about a discount?”

“Do you think I’m a cheapskate?”

The laugh died in her throat. Suddenly, he was the old Gavin, the dominant lover who took and bestowed bone-shattering pleasure. He reached out and tugged. The stool slid over until she was positioned between his spread thighs. The delicious smell of coffee and smoke and lemon teased her nostrils. Those strong hands settled on her shoulders, lightly, but enough so she experienced the power beneath the gentle touch, the ability to tear clothes and take her hard and fast. “I don’t—I don’t know about this.”

“I do.” He leaned in and stopped an inch from her lips. “One kiss, Red.” His breath whispered. “Please.”

His final plea hit the mark. Just a kiss. On her terms. She could handle it.

Miranda met him the rest of the way. His lips closed on hers.

A moan vibrated through her chest. So different from his usual plunder and assault, he kissed her with a sweetness that broke down her defenses and promised her heaven on earth. His tongue parted the seam of her lips and slid home.

Miranda surrendered.

She opened and gave freely, drunk on his taste and his smell and the touch of his hands on her body. Their tongues touched, played, drank. A burn blossomed deep in her gut and spread. Miranda pressed against him and sought more to slake the need. His hands left her shoulders and he tugged her blouse out of her skirt, sliding his palms over her belly upward to cup her breasts. Her nipples stabbed hard in an effort to be freed, and he obeyed her body’s command, unsnapping the front clasp of her bra.

She bit down on his lip. Her nails curled and dug into his biceps. He groaned and caressed her breasts, flicking her nipples with his thumbs, urging them to tighten and swell and obey his command. She arched.

With a growl, suddenly he lifted her up from the stool and placed her on top of the bar. Never breaking the kiss, he devoured her mouth and pushed her thighs apart. Swollen and ready, she sank into a pit of greed and lust, her body craving release and dominating her usual control. Gavin sensed the change, responding by removing his hand from her breast and sliding under her skirt. Her thighs trembled when he hit the top of her stocking and stroked the bare expanse of flesh between the line of her panties. The scent of her arousal drifted in the air, and like a madman, he lifted the barrier and plunged one finger deep.

She cried out. He swallowed her moans and pleasured her, adding another finger to her drenched core, stretching her channel and rubbing against the hard nub begging for attention. She bucked like a wild woman, too close to the edge, desperate to give him anything. Everything.

“Oh, Jesus, you’re so beautiful. So hot and ready for me. Open wider, yes, like that.”

His thumb rubbed against her clit and his fingers pumped and his teeth sank deep into her lower lip, soothing with his tongue. The orgasm shimmered before her in all its haunting glory.

“Gavin!”

“Come for me, baby. Now.”

Her climax ripped through her body. She screamed but he swallowed the sound. His fingers ruthlessly milked out her orgasm and the aftershocks caused mini convulsions. The pleasure went on until her body wrung dry, and she slumped against him.

Oh. My. God.

The image hit her full force. Spread-eagled on a bar in his family’s restaurant. His erection pounding and pressing against her thigh. The ragged pants from both of them mixing and mingling in the sudden silence.

What had she done?

He slowly removed his fingers, eliciting another aftershock. “I’m sorry.” The words burst out of her like a cannon blast. “I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.”

His gentle smile rocked her foundation. Where was his push to dominate the scene? The smooth seduction and dirty words that would confirm he’d be buried deep inside of her in the next few minutes? Instead, he tugged down her skirt and shifted his position. “What you just gave me was a gift. A priceless gift. Seeing you shatter in my arms again, touching you, kissing you. That’s enough for me, baby.”

His sensual lips curved in a smirk. “I’m gonna grab a glass of ice water and take you home. Okay?”

She ran a palm down his cheek. “Okay.”

With a quick kiss on her forehead, he lifted her from the bar and set her on her feet. Filled up a glass with ice, guzzled it down, and hit the lights. Then offered his hand to hers.

Miranda took it. Interlaced her fingers with his. And let him lead her out of the restaurant.

Chapter Six

“We need you back. Now.”

Gavin rammed his shin into a crate, smothered a curse, and tried not to lose the cell phone tucked between his ear and shoulder. “Brian, I told you. I have official leave for the next two months. I need the time, man.”

His boss’s grumble through the line was not a good sign. They’d been a tight team, and Gavin had worked hard to get to the top, proving himself time and time again to be the man to get the job done. It took a lot to get Brian to finally give him the time off, until he’d been forced to threaten permanent resignation. His boss knew Gavin never bluffed, so he caved. But his constant phone calls ruffled his nerves and poked at his insecurities. The idea of a green associate handling his clients and trying to take his place burned in his gut. Of course, that’s how the world of cutthroat business worked. He’d accepted the game long ago.

God, he was tired.

The thought surprised him, even as he cursed again as lemons toppled over and one bopped him on the head. Who the hell had put the damn citrus fruits on the top shelf instead of the fridge?

Brian’s voice droned on. “I know you’re trying to be a hero and save the family restaurant, but at what expense? Look, Gavin, it’s time I tell you something big. You’re up for partnership.”

Gavin paused mid-stride and gripped the phone. “What? You said MacKenzie wasn’t taking on any more associates.”

“We’re making an exception. For you. Do you want it?”

Triumph coursed through him. Did he want it? Did he sleep and eat and breathe? Years of dedication and shit-taking and endless work finally morphed into the prize of all time. Partnership. “Hell, yes, I want it.”

Brian made an appreciative grunt. “Good. I’ll give you three more weeks. Max. I need you in China.”

Satisfaction trickled away and left a rub of guilt. Maybe before Miranda’s review hit he would’ve been ready early. He’d worked day and night to rebuild their clientele, but the crowds had thinned after his lady trashed Mia Casa. His careful advertising now looked like a desperate attempt to find patrons instead of a stable restaurant boasting confidence. It was like he had started all over and lost all those initial weeks of work.

Then there was Miranda. He still needed to try and convince her to come with him, and solidify their tentative trust.

“Um, I don’t know if I can get everything in order. I may need more time.”

Agitated silence hummed over the line. “I’m not screwing around, Gavin. Wrap it up in three weeks, get your ass to China to close my deal, and we’ll sign on the dotted line. Now get to work.”

The line clicked.

Gavin dropped the phone and rubbed his forehead. He’d done it. Partnership meant security, glory, and the big time. Could he get Mia Casa profitable and secure in three weeks? And what about Miranda?

His temples pounded with the beginning of a massive headache. He trudged into the kitchen, where Tony was ripping someone over the phone in full-blown Italian. Gavin winced at the gutter words, especially when he switched to English. The phone slammed.

“Damn, Tony, who the hell was that? If it was a customer, I’ll kill you myself.”

Tony shook his head. “I do not believe such nonsense. Claiming to be Gordon Ramsey, willing to fix our restaurant. We do not need any fixing. That man should be in prison!”

The box slipped out of his fingers and slammed down on his toe. Pain exploded and cut through the panic. “Did you say Gordon Ramsey?”

Tony nodded. “Yes, he says he wants to put us on his show to embarrass and humiliate us in public. I told him what to do. And where to go.”

The breath choked him. He spun around in the kitchen and frantically grabbed the phone. Caller ID. He’d just call them back. He’d fix it, he could fix it. “For God’s sakes, what’s wrong with you?” he shouted. “I filled out a million forms, begged, pleaded, and used all my contacts to get us on Kitchen Nightmares. This is our opportunity to go public, Tony! He comes in, renovates, fixes the menu, and then we’d be the hot place for everyone in New York to go to. And you told him to fuck off!”

Tony spat in his face, his cheeks ruddy with temper. “Of course! We do not need outsiders, Gavin. I have seen that show—it is a humiliation and a display of dirty laundry. Your papa would die, and so would I. No! I refuse.”

“You don’t have a choice! If we don’t turn profits around soon, Mia Casa is going bankrupt and we’re all out of a job.”

His longtime friend and cook looked at him with disappointment. “Do you want to leave so badly you would do this to us?” He lifted his hands, then dropped them against his apron. “If that is the case, go back to your job, Gavin. We do not need you.”

Frustration mingled with shame. The result was a temper tantrum worthy of any Italian member in his family. “Oh, you needed me before to sink my money in here, didn’t you? You need me to settle the fights, and fill in with waiters, and save your ass time and time again because you’re so frickin’ emotional, I never know when you’re gonna blow up the kitchen! Maybe I will leave. Let you and Brando and Pop run it into the ground and then say I told you so.”

Tony slowly walked away, but Gavin found himself yelling into empty space. “Great, just great. Walk away and tell Pop. Go ahead. I’m calling Ramsey and making this place the go-to restaurant in Manhattan—with or without you!”

He finished yelling and made the call. Several calls. When he finally reached the top level, he was irrevocably told he would not be on the show after the fiasco, and Gordon had moved on to a more willing participant.

Gavin slumped into the barstool. His father walked in and took the seat next to him. They sat in silence for a while.

“Each time I find myself flat on my face, I pick myself up and get back in the race.”

Gavin dropped his forehead on the glass bar with a bump. “I don’t think so, Pop. Even Sinatra would agree with this one. Tony screwed up bad. I had a chance to turn this whole thing around.”

“With an outsider?” His father patted him on the back. “Tony was right. You are doing a good job, my son. Already, we have had our most successful night with the new lounge opening. The appetizer menu is flying out of the kitchen. You must remember that the reason people will come and keep returning is the heart of a restaurant.”

“Not the food, huh?”

“The food is part of the heart. It is the people behind who care about the customers. Who care about doing what is right and working hard and believing in something bigger. It is not about being on the right show or how much money you can put into advertising.”

The wrongness of his father’s lecture irritated him, but he pushed the emotions down. He may not agree with his father’s philosophy, but he respected him. He’d just have to work harder to come up with some catchy ideas in order to leave. Maybe a full page ad in The Times?

“Sure, Pop. Thanks.” He picked up his head and tried to focus. But first he had something important to do. “Can you ask Brando if he can pick up an extra shift tonight? I want to take Miranda out. I know it’s Saturday, but it’ll only be for a few hours. Think he can handle it?”

“Yes. I will talk to him.”

“Thanks.”

“Remember, my son. Don’t go and spoil it all by saying something stupid, like I love you. Not unless you are ready to commit.”

Gavin jerked back. The truth to his father’s words shook him to the core. It had been one full week since their date. The image of her half naked on the bar still burned in his memory and raised him to full staff. He craved to pull down her panties and claim her for his own, but knew it was too soon. He needed to move slowly and give her time to re-adjust. He still raised his fingers to his nose and swore he caught her scent. Musk. Spice. Honey. Heaven.

She’d begun having lunch with him at Mia Casa. A few hours in public gave her the security she needed, and kept him from trying to drag her into bed. They shared food, work talk, and caught up on their past. A bond began to strengthen, until he’d find them staring at one another as if they wanted to both jump across the table. But he didn’t want to blow it.

The more time he spent with Miranda, the more he realized she was the woman to complete his soul. But Pop was right. And Frank, of course.

No love confessions until he was ready to put a ring on it. Or was that Beyonce?

Too exhausted and confused to do anything else, Gavin nodded and walked out of the bar.

…

The courier delivered the box at exactly five o’clock. The message was simple:

I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear this.

Even as she curiously tugged off the top of the box, Miranda raged at his arrogance. A last minute command on a Saturday night? She could’ve had a food outing. A date. Anything. What man assumed a woman was waiting for him to send her a box and a note stating to be ready in two hours?

She stopped grumbling the moment she parted the paper.

The dress was magnificent. A deep velvet merlot, with a plunging neckline, she touched the heavy folds in hushed awe. Her fingers trembled over the Gucci label. When she pulled it free from the box, it tumbled to the floor with an elegant train, the color bold and rich in the light. A sparkle caught her eye. She lifted out a pair of diamond and ruby-studded shoes. Four-inch stilettos, perfectly matching the dress. Miranda sucked in her breath. The room swayed. How was this possible? Had he gone nuts? The smaller fabric box was the last item inside. She snapped open the cover and revealed a ruby drop necklace, flashing fire and ice in full-blown glory.

Miranda had died and gone to female heaven.

She sat on the floor amidst the box and its contents for a long time. Did she send it back? Call him and yell? Call him and be polite? Or just go?

Go.

Her adventure lay before her. She was still in control, and he hadn’t pushed the terms of their relationship since their physical encounter on the bar. He’d been the perfect, charming companion this week, inviting her to lunch every day and serving her with a quiet satisfaction she’d never experienced. Amazingly, she’d find a few hours had crept by over a bottle of wine and she craved more. More of his wolfish grin, and sharp wit, and engaging dialogue. For the first time, he allowed her access to both his family and his inner soul. He shared his teachings from India and talked of his work. Then he politely walked her to the door, kissed her cheek, and let her go.

A shiver of excitement ran down her spine. She’d wear the dress and the shoes and the jewels and then send them back.

Miranda ran off to get dressed.

Two hours later, she answered the knock on her door.

Gavin stood in the hallway dressed in a black tuxedo. Casually elegant, and comfortable in evening clothes, he cut a figure that made her mouth dry up and her heart slam against her chest. The man was a walking, talking sex God. Strands of hair were tamed neatly back, emphasizing the slant of his cheekbones, the dominant thrust of his nose, the sensual curve of his mouth. The scent of his cologne drifted around her like Opium and made her knees weaken. He smiled, his gaze probing every inch of her outfit, from the expanse of cleavage, to the wickedly high heels that allowed her to reach past his chin.

“My God. I don’t think I’ll get through this night in one piece. You’re beautiful.”

His simple words hit hard. She smiled back, giddy at the pleasure carved on his face. “Thank you. I feel the same about you.”

He walked in while she grabbed a shawl and arranged it over her shoulders. “Did I get it right?”

Miranda swiveled her head and frowned. “Get what right? I still don’t know where we’re going.”

Disappointment gleamed in his blue eyes. “I’m sorry, I must have missed something. I wanted to re-create the evening for you. The movie.”

“What movie?”

He shifted his feet in discomfort. “Um, Moonstruck. Remember you told me your grandmother loved that movie? Cher wore a red dress when she met Nicholas Cage at the opera.” He gave a half laugh. “Sorry, I suck at this. I’m taking you to the Met. To see Pagliacci.”

The world rumbled beneath her feet. She stared at him, helpless to move, the truth crashing down on her. “You did this for me?” she whispered. “You watched Moonstruck for me?”

He pushed a hand through his hair. “Uh, yeah, but it’s no big deal, Miranda. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Let’s go.”

He turned to go. With two quick strides, Miranda closed the distance and pulled his head down to hers. She kissed him hungrily, starved for his taste and his touch and his hands over her. He growled deep in his throat and kissed her back, his tongue plunging into her mouth and taking what she so freely offered. Slowly, he eased the pressure and pulled away. His voice came out ragged. “What was that for?”

She traced the line of his lips with her index finger. “For the beautiful dress. And shoes. And necklace. For watching a girlie movie to make me happy.”

He grinned. “Man, that was worth it.”

She laughed and linked her hands within his.

The Metropolitan beckoned and wrapped around her like an old friend, its lush elegance and soaring architecture part of a dream. The massive fountain bubbled up multiple streams of golden water as if lit from within, and glass windows from sky to sidewalk tempted the onlookers with the illuminated crystal chandelier hanging front and center in the main lobby. The moon hung heavy and ripe, and the crowd lingered in the frosty air. They made their way into the lobby, mingling with the crowds dressed in beautiful long dresses and elegant suit jackets. Up the stairs to their own private box, glasses of champagne waiting for them behind the lush curtains.

Miranda shivered with excitement, her gaze greedily drinking in the huge vast space, with its famous domed ceiling clad in rich gold and red. Carved figures hung with angelic grace, as if waiting to hear the music and come alive. Anticipation hummed through the crowd, and she savored the rush of adrenalin before a big performance.

“I’m not sure if you’ll like this opera as much as La Traviata,” Gavin said, handing her a crystal flute. “It’s not as classic as Rigoletto or Madame Butterfly.”

She took a sip and enjoyed the crisp bite of fruit and spark on her tongue. “To be honest, it’s one of my favorite operas.” She smiled at his surprised look. “After you introduced me to Traviata, I began studying. When I got back from the Culinary and began working in the city, I became a member and saw every opera in the season. Pagliacci resonated with me.”

“Why?”

His gaze shredded past the surface and probed deep. Miranda stared at the empty stage and tried to find the words. “It’s a rough, clumsy story, an opera within an opera. When the Players come on stage and we first meet Nedda, there is an exuberance beating on the surface. But we begin to see past the gaiety, into her heart. She is tormented—mad for her lover but terrified of her husband. A simple peasant girl, she’s raw and real, one of us, and not separated by the higher power of royalty. She’s stuck, and not brave enough to make a choice.

“She does not reveal her lover’s name,” he said. “Even with her husband threatening her with a knife, within his own helpless rage, she protects the man she loves.”

“Yes,” Miranda said slowly. “But in a way, she makes no choice at all. She only calls his name as death nears. Does she die for him—for love? Or does she die out of fear, afraid to make the final leap?”

Her heart beat madly from his intense questions, sensing they spoke about something deeper beyond the opera. “Would you have chosen differently?” he asked. “Run off with your lover and abandoned a loveless marriage?”

Sadness crept into her voice. “Three years ago, I would have said yes. I would’ve given it all up for love. Now, I’m afraid I understand Nedda so much better. I’d stay.”

“Because of your loyalty or your fear?”

She turned her head. His gaze snagged hers. “Because I wouldn’t have made any choice.”

He didn’t answer. Darkness descended and the theater quieted. The first strains of the music floated upward and filled every empty space. Miranda sat back and let go.

The first half of the opera was a joyous clamor of instruments and singing and clumsy laughter. But a bigger story seethed in the background, the triangle of the young Nedda, the arrogant, enraged Canio, and her secret lover Silvio.

By the time Canio discovered his wife’s betrayal, Nedda refused to give up her lover’s name, even from his threats. The emotional intensity between Nedda and Canio built with each level of music, and Miranda leaned forward in her seat, waiting for the unstoppable conclusion. Canio’s final arietta rung true and clear through the theater, his voice rich with husky overtones, booming in madness and fury. He stabbed Nedda, who fell onto the ground, and who finally called out her lover’s real name with her dying breath. As Silvio rushed through the crowd, the knife lifted again, and Silvio fell to the floor next to his lover. In the stunning silence of realization, Tonio, the friend who had set the whole chain of events into play, rips out the final line:

“La Commedia e’ finita!”

The play is over!

The curtain crashed down.

Emotions rioted and pounded for release, but she tamped down hard. She would not cry, not with Gavin. Her promise to always try and remain in control stayed true. Using her breath, she steadied herself, the roaring notes of the music echoing in her head. The lights slowly came up, and she forced a smile.

“Magnificent. Everything I hoped it would be.”

He reached out and dragged a finger down her cheek. “But no tears.”

Her lips tightened. “No. Not anymore.” Maybe with Andy, in the dark, at the opera. But not in Gavin’s presence. Never again.

Gavin nodded, a gleam of grief piercing bright blue eyes. She didn’t have time to ponder the startling emotion. He stood and donned his coat. Tucked her arm within his. And led her out of the theater.

He remained quiet as he guided her to the parking lot and retrieved the car. The Mercedes pulled smoothly into traffic while they made their way back to her apartment. Miranda glanced over and studied Gavin from under heavy-lidded eyes. Muscular thighs shifted in the seat as he pressed on the gas and dodged between the bulleting vehicles. He drove with the same unconscious arrogance he brought to every action, guiding the black luxury car through a variety of traffic disasters with an easy grace.

Blunt fingertips wrapped around the steering wheel. Miranda remembered those hands on her skin, remembered how he’d use all that intense concentration to make a woman experience earth-shattering pleasure. Remembered the way his lips glided over hers, thrusting his tongue in and out of her mouth while he plunged deep inside and held her on the edge without mercy. Remembered her spread out on the bar as he brought her to orgasm, wringing cries from her lips.

Oh, God.

How long had it been since she’d taken a man to her bed? Too long. She wanted him, craved the masculine demand of him and her surrender. She almost laughed out loud at her ridiculous assumption she’d be safe with conversation. With a slow building, non-physical relationship. Was she kidding? Why hadn’t she counted on the vivid images flickering past her vision? The weakness of her body? The pull of their connection?

“Are you okay?”

She shook herself out of her trance. “Yeah. Why?”

A lopsided grin curved his lips. “We’ve been sitting in your parking lot for the past five minutes. You look deep in thought.”

Color flooded her cheeks. “Uh, I was just thinking about this article I’m working on.”

The grin widened. “Sure. Must be quite an interesting article to make you blush.”

“Stop teasing me.”

His voice dropped to a sexy growl. “I don’t intend on teasing you, baby.”

She grew hot and achy and ready. The invitation popped out of her mouth. “Do you want to come up for a nightcap?”

Surprise flickered across his face. “You want me to come in?”

“Well, we could drink the brandy in the car, but my apartment is more comfortable.”

He laughed. “Then I accept your gracious invitation. It’s been a long day.”

They walked up the stairs. He plucked the key from her fingers, unlocked the door, and ushered her inside. The lights bathed the room in an intimate glow as Miranda retrieved two glasses from the cabinet and watched him settle on the sofa.

“Your apartment is different from the last place you had,” he commented. His gaze swept the cool, elegant furnishings of slate gray and silver. Glass tabletops were carefully scattered around the room amidst a few green plants, bookcases, and a computer desk. Black and white photographs hung on the wall and added to the atmosphere of clean lines and simplicity.

Miranda handed him a snifter. “Hope so. I had a studio, a roommate, and no money. You saw it before.”

Curiosity gleamed in his eyes, as if trying to decipher something deeper. “I didn’t notice the details. I was always in a mad rush to try not to get kicked out.”

“What’s different?”

“You always loved clutter. Books, magazines, throw pillows. Those crazy animal figures you collected. Now everything’s in its proper order.”

She shrugged. “I decided messiness was an indication of non-discipline. Now when I come through the door, there are no surprises. I like knowing where everything is at all times.”

He tapped the edge of the glass thoughtfully. “In other words, you always want to be in control.”

He lifted her chin. “There’s nothing wrong with being in control.”

“All the time?”

“Of course. If a person plans her life carefully enough, and takes full responsibility, there’s no excuse for being out of control.”

He took a sip of brandy and seemed to ponder her statement. Miranda fidgeted with sudden defensiveness. Who was he to come in and judge her life?

“What about surrender?” he asked.

The room sizzled with unspoken tension. “What about it? If you’re in control, you don’t have to surrender.”

“You make the concept sound like a bad thing, Miranda.” His voice raked across her ears in a caress. “Take passion. Two people who voluntarily give up their control to achieve a greater pleasure.”

The air grew thick and humid, and she struggled to take a deep breath. Intimacy simmered under the surface all night, and tipped on the edge of raging out of control. Miranda knew the conversation had been guided into dangerous territory. She paused on the verge of retreat, not sure how deep she wanted to dive. But he placed the snifter down on the glass tabletop and shifted his weight. The gap between them closed another inch. She fought to keep from studying the intriguing line of golden hair that began at his upper chest and disappeared behind the knit shirt. Her fingers flexed.

He continued, his voice weaving its spell of shot-silk and gravel. “That’s another reason the opera calls to you. You allow yourself to let go to the magic of the music and passion and messiness.”

She forced herself to answer. “Ah, but great opera is based on rigid control. Notes must be ruthlessly adhered to or the entire production falls apart. It’s also a reminder surrender is dangerous. Pleasure can be great, but the pain afterward reminds us that life is better when a person is in control. As shown in Pagliacci this evening.”

One blunt fingertip traced the line of her jaw. His spicy scent teased her senses. “Not better,” he murmured. “Just safe.”

“There’s nothing wrong with safety.”

“There’s nothing wrong with surrender,” he said.

Blue eyes flared like a beginning tropical storm. Her lower lip trembled as he leaned in and closed the distance. The simple need burst into monstrous proportions, until her mind lost the battle. And why not? Why not surrender her body on her own terms? She still owned her fate. This time, she’d give only her body to Gavin Luciano, not her mind or heart or soul.

This time, she wouldn’t fall in love with him.

This time, she’d be prepared for him to walk away. Safe.

His warm breath rushed over her parted lips. “If you had a choice to make tonight, would you, Red? Or would you step back and be safe, making no decision at all?”

The opera and her past and his touch spun together and dragged her under. She reached out and gripped his shoulders, digging her nails fiercely into the hard muscles. “This is my choice,” she whispered fiercely. “This is about sex, pure and simple. I admit I want you tonight, but it changes nothing between us. I’m not rewriting a second review, no matter how good the orgasm is.”

A flash of pain flared in his eyes, then quickly disappeared. “It will change everything between us.” His finger gently stroked her cheek.

“I won’t do the review.”

“I don’t care about the review.” The tenderness turned, and he thrust all ten fingers into her hair and forced her head back. “I care about this.”

His mouth took hers. Rough and primitive, he thrust his tongue deep inside and took. A moan rose in her throat and she gave herself up to him as he plundered her mouth and every dark secret she kept. She arched up and invited him to take more, halfway drunk on the taste and feel of pure male need.

He pushed her deep into the pillows. One thigh parted her legs wide for free access. Her breasts swelled in anticipation, and she reached out to tug ineffectively at his shirt, her hands trembling as she tried to undo the buttons.

“Take it off,” he ground out. His teeth nipped at her lower lip, then bathed the swollen flesh with his tongue.

“I’m trying, but you have to pull the shirt over your head.” Again, she tugged, and had a quick impulse to tear and see if the material parted like she’d heard at those male stripper shows.

“No, the dress.” His hands coasted down her body and rested on her ribcage. His thumbs brushed the tips of her breasts and coaxed them to rise even more under the fabric. “I can’t find the damn zipper, and in about three seconds I’m just going to rip.”

“I’ll lift up and you unzip it. But only if you take off your shirt.”

“Deal.”

He divested the dress from her body in one swoop, leaving her clad in black lace underwear and silk stockings. He sucked in his breath and Miranda caught the gleam of appreciation that made her burn even hotter.

“Crap, I want you so bad. I keep remembering your face when you come, how sweet and hot and wet you are.”

His steel-blue gaze raked over every inch of skin until her panties grew damp. “Please.”

“Oh, I intend to, baby.” He tore the shirt off and lowered himself over her. The soft velvety feel of the sofa cushioned her back. The hard length of his erection throbbed against her thigh. He leaned over and brushed his lips over one tight crest, playing, teasing, until he opened his mouth and sucked.

She gasped and threw her head back. He moved to the other breast, licking with firm movements that drove her toward the edge of insanity. “Not tonight,” she tore out. “Gavin, don’t tease me tonight. I want you now.”

He muttered something under his breath—either a curse or a prayer—and pressed his palm over her throbbing center. “You’re making me crazy. God, Miranda, make me take you to bed. I can’t hold out much longer.”

“No, right here.” She ripped at his belt and the rasp of the zipper echoed in the air.

“I was supposed to take this slow, make it perfect for you.” He seemed to struggle and lose the battle as he slipped one finger under the elastic edge of her panties. “I was supposed to give you foreplay.” He plunged deep, and liquid warmth rushed past to ease his entrance. She cried out at the pulses of pleasure. “I was supposed to seduce you slowly until you begged me to take you, and you couldn’t give a damn about the past.” His thumb rubbed over the swollen nub with a steady pressure. Sobs escaped her lips and she reached out to wrap her fingers around his penis, guiding him closer.

“Now.” She arched up as he did something incredibly erotic between her thighs. “I can’t wait. Damn you, take me now.”

He swore savagely. “Jesus, let that condom still be in my frickin’ pocket.” He reached over and grabbed his pants, tearing through the material until the foil package fell out. In seconds, he was sheathed.

He tugged down her panties and removed his fingers. Rearing up and spreading her legs wide, he poised at her entrance. A tiny gleam of truth pierced through the fogginess, reminding her he was about to re-claim a part of her she’d thought to keep separate. Fear choked her and she moved to push him away, her mouth open to tell him no.

But it was too late.

Gavin surged inside of her with one strong thrust.

Fire.

Fullness.

Completion.

He interlaced his fingers through hers. Stared deeply into her eyes. And moved. Again. And again.

With each thrust he took her toward the edge, until every inner muscle clenched and squeezed him tight inside her. The journey was familiar, but this time he held her gaze every step of the way, giving himself as freely as she had given her own self three years ago. The last fragile wall trembled precariously, but she fought with a fierceness she taught herself to cultivate since he left her. The emotions raged between them, pushing them forward, and then the orgasm hit. Fragments of pleasure exploded around her. She cried out and held on, and soon his hoarse shout echoed in the air as they slipped over the edge together.

Miranda knew then she’d lied to herself.

She was still in love with him.

…

Gavin cradled her in his arms and pressed a kiss against her temple. Limbs intertwined, they lay together on the sofa and drifted lazily in and out of sleep. He’d made a half-hearted attempt to make it to the bedroom, but his lady only murmured something unintelligible and snuggled closer. He decided to give up the battle. Besides, the close quarters allowed him to cushion every part of her delicious body relaxed against him.

He buried his face in a mass of fiery waves and breathed in the scent of strawberries. Making love to Miranda Storme was an experience that changed a man forever. He grew hard again at the image of her head thrown back in passion, her slick heat dampening him as he thrust inside her body, the cries he wrung from her lips as they reached the peak.

A thought skittered across his memory. There’d always been a deep connection between them during their lovemaking, but he remembered the flash of fear in her eyes right before he took her.

She’d held back.

He frowned. At the last moment, she’d fought her own surrender. She may have given him her body tonight, but her heart was still firmly encased behind that wall. He wondered if he’d ever be able to scale it.

“Gavin?”

He shook off his thoughts and tightened his arms around her. “What, baby?”

“Were you scared the night you saved that man’s life?”

His lips brushed her temple. “I told Brando I was scared out of my mind. But I learned a lot of things during my time in India. I watched people dying all around me. Poverty, disease, starvation. Made me crazy because I felt helpless to stop it, and I kept railing about injustice and fate and fairness. Suddenly, all my goals for power and money seemed useless.”

“How did you deal with this realization?”

“I finally stopped focusing on myself and looked around. You know what I found out? The people in India practice acceptance. Surrender. They live their life moment to moment, and if something bad happens, they understand it’s their own karma. I decided I wanted that type of peace.”

She was quiet for a while, as if digesting what he’d said. “Would you have been able to accept it if that man had died?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “Maybe after some time had passed, yes, I would have learned to accept. In India, they also believe in being the witness. You teach yourself to get past emotions so you can move into action.”

“Isn’t that being in control?”

Gavin briefly admired the sharp intelligence of the woman lying beneath him. “Good point. In a way, I suppose you’re right. But there’s a difference between denying your emotions to be in control, and accepting them to accomplish an action. I was scared, but I didn’t fight my feelings. I let the fear move through me and then cleared my head so I could decide what to do.”

She shifted her buttocks and he stirred back to life. Ready for round two, he leaned over and tilted her chin up. The expression on her face froze him in the act. His chest squeezed in sheer terror at the mix of determination and sadness.

“I made my own decision, Gavin.”

“What is it, baby?”

“I don’t want to fight this attraction we have anymore. Maybe I can even fall in love with you again. But I’m not going to do anything about it this time.”

He stroked her cheek. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m tired of being afraid of the future. Wondering what’s going to happen when your time is up. Wondering if I can watch you leave again without breaking apart.”

“I wanted to talk to you about that. I have a plan.”

“No.” Her lips pursed. “This time it’s my decision. My rules, Gavin. We’re going to sleep together.”

“Thank God.”

“Thought you’d like that part. I won’t fight you. We’ll spend time together. But when our time is up, you go back to your job and we part without any hard feelings. Close up the past, clear our karma, and go on with our lives.”

Neat and tidy. He fucking hated it. “Miranda, please listen to me. We don’t have to leave each other this time. You can come with me.”

He expected a gasp of pleasure. A joyous smile. Not the outright laugh that mocked him as a crazy lunatic. “Come with you? While you travel around the country and close deals? No, thanks. I have a life here, a life I built, and I’m not giving it up.”

He jerked back. God, why was he so surprised? Did he really think one sexual encounter wiped out years of heartache?

His silence must have been his answer. A sad smile touched her lips. “I don’t want to hurt you, Gavin. But I’m not coming with you. If you want to continue this, it has to be on my terms. Or this is over tonight.”

He slumped back on the bed and laid his hand over his forehead. How had everything gotten so screwed up? Did he even have a choice? He wasn’t about to let her go. If he accepted her terms, she intended to say a sweet good-bye and find another man to marry and have kids with. The idea heated his blood with venom.

Unless…

Unless he did everything in his power to change her mind. He had time left. Maybe more if he pushed Brian. Convince her she couldn’t live without him and they were meant to be together. Show her how good they were together, both in and out of bed.

Starting now.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

In seconds, he flipped her over so she straddled him. Her nipples had already hardened. He flicked the tips and rang out a moan. “You win. You get my body and anything else you want for the next few weeks.” His fingers slipped into liquid heat and he moved them in the way she liked. Her channel tightened and she arched. “But you have to please me.”

“Bastard.”

“That’s gonna cost you.”

He teased her clit until she pressed against him and began to beg. Her breathy cries sang in his ears. Gavin prayed he’d have enough time to convince her they deserved a future.

Her orgasm hit and he stopped thinking.

Chapter Seven

Miranda pushed open the door to the popular French restaurant and dragged Gavin in. The sophisticated atmosphere bespoke the usual bistro flavor—sparkling lights, small round tables, rich mahogany wood, and a reserved air of snobbery. She’d learned from experience that the more obnoxious her appearance, the less people looked beneath the surface to spot her food critic celebrity. LaSaveur was the new dig in town, known for its gourmet food and exquisite use of truffle oil. Unfortunately, the owner sniffed out a food critic in record time, and plied them with the very best. Gaining an unbiased review of the restaurant as a whole was her goal. Even if she got through the first course without being spotted, she’d consider it a win.

She pulled her fake fur around her shoulders and gave her name to the hostess.

The trendily dressed woman cringed. “We’re booked up for reservations months in advance,” she informed them in crisp tones.

Miranda pursed her lips. “I’m a distant cousin of JJ Abrams. He’s going to cast me in his new Star Trek movie. I’d advise you to check again.”

The woman disappeared to get the maitre’d.

Gavin lowered his head to speak against her ear. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“Shush. Don’t ruin my cover. I warned you I was working tonight.”

“If anyone catches this on YouTube, I’m ruined.” His piercing blue eyes held a mixture of shock and pure lust. She bit her lip and tried not to get distracted by the sexy black Calvin Klein suit that hugged lean thighs and broad shoulders. He hadn’t shaved, and scruff hugged his jaw and chin, giving him a dangerous look. A fedora lay low on his brow. The Rolex watch and fake diamond earring gleamed. Yum.

Her own outfit consisted of hardly any material. Posing as the trashy trophy of a rich man, she’d poured herself into a fire engine red dress that barely covered her ass and accented her boobs. The blonde wig and heavy make-up disguised her red hair and pale skin. As the new celebrity food critic, gaining entrance without preference was key.

She loved the food industry. It was really screwed up.

The woman was replaced by a distinguished older man with salted hair, skinny hands, and a crinkled nose. He led them to the table, wrapped in a cloud of judgment for his new seedy customers that had forced their way into his establishment. Gavin fell into his part with ease and growled as the man took a quick peek down her dress. The menus were thrust into their hands and he hurried away.

“What if someone recognizes me? Pop will have a heart attack.” His worry regarding his father softened her heart, and she squeezed his hand across the table.

“Don’t worry, Sonny.” A giggle escaped at the name he detested from The Godfather. “What are we eating?”

“Anything you want, doll. Money is no object.”

“Good evening, sir. Madame.” The waiter appeared and recited the specials. Miranda made notes of the menu, calculating the specials, prices, and studying the decor. The dining area was tight and people’s conversations were easy to overhear. The crystal was top notch, the linen sharply pressed, and the chandelier fake. She noted the waiter never asked if they wanted tap water, just plunked down the sparkling at $4.99 per bottle. Interesting. The waiter spoke to Gavin and ignored her. “Would you like to begin with an appetizer?”

She jumped in. “Escargot, please.”

Not meeting her eyes, his pencil scratched the pad. “And you, sir?”

“The goat cheese special.”

“Excellent. Are you ready to order?”

“I had a question on the menu,” she chirped. Yep, there was the frown. Judgmental. His gaze took in her cheap dress, clown make-up, and platinum hair. “Which is better? The lamb shank or duck?”

“Both are excellent.” His lips pressed together in a thin line. “Would you like more time to decide?”

Hmm. LaSaveur was famed for its enthusiastic knowledge of the menu and the ability of the waiter to recommend a dish. Guess not if one wasn’t dressed in designer clothes. “I guess I’ll have the lamb. Would you suggest any special sides to go with it?”

“The shallot potatoes. They are a la carte, of course.”

“What’s that mean?”

His mouth turned as if he’d bit into something sour. “Separately priced,” he snapped out. Again, he shifted his attention to Gavin. “Sir? May I assist you with any of your choices?”

Gavin caught her eye and she gave a nod. Already well-coached in what she needed to sample, he deftly ordered. The chef chatted with him, and continued to ignore her. When he finally left, her temper simmered like the escargot she was served with her expensive bottle of wine.

“What an ass. Did you see him ignore me?”

“I don’t know how. God, Miranda, please don’t lean in. I’m having a problem over here.”

He shifted his weight, and she realized her breasts almost slipped out of her bra. “Oops. Sorry. Make it up to you later.”

“Tease.”

“Pimp.”

He choked and drank some of the expensive water. “We don’t need to spice up our sex life, baby. I already can’t keep my hands off of you, and it’s only been a week since I got you back in my bed. The kink factor is putting me over the edge. I need a shirt that says Do It With A Foodie.”

“Damn, that’s good. I’m getting one printed. Nice wine list. Great flavor. I wish he would’ve let me smell the cork, though.”

“I pocketed it for you. Figured you’d want it.”

She beamed. “You rock.”

“Tell me this isn’t a weekly occurrence and part of your job description.”

Miranda took a sip of the earthy Bordeaux. Not bad. “I only recently began my life of playing an imposter. I used to be able to go anywhere, but since my articles in Foodie magazine became popular, I transformed into a celebrity. Pretty cool, but a bit strange. I always thought critics were just like writers—known only for their work and not their face.”

He grinned. “Not many have a face like you, baby.”

“Nice line.”

“Thanks.” He studied her in the dim light. “You amaze me. It’s difficult to make a name for yourself in the food industry, especially in Manhattan. You must have worked your ass off.”

“Yeah, but it was worth it. My grandmother always encouraged me to dream big and go after what I want. I feel like she’s with me and I made her proud. That’s worth everything. Isn’t that how you feel with your own family?”

A shadow crossed his face. He tipped back his wineglass. “Not like you. I wanted to succeed for purely selfish reasons. Money. Power. When I traveled to India, I started questioning if I even liked the work. Never stopped to think about it. Maybe that’s why lately, success felt so empty.”

His startling revelation was interrupted by their waiter bringing their appetizers. Gavin quickly switched to surface topics and she allowed him the lead. Before the second course, Miranda pushed back her chair. “I’m going to excuse myself for a bit and make a trip to the ladies room. Check out the surroundings. Maybe peek in the kitchen on an oops.”

“Good luck.”

She wobbled on her platform heels, then steadied. The hardwood floors gleamed, and gilded mirrors hung on the wall beside French paintings. She preferred a bistro feel to her French haunts, but this one was stuffy, overdone, and a bit bland. Like biting into a rich juicy peach and finding it tastes like an apple. Yuck.

She used the restroom, wandered down the wrong hallway, and pressed against the wall near the swinging doors. The usual litany of French and English drifted from the kitchen. Standing on tiptoes, she peeked in the small square window. A line of chefs barked orders at the waiters as they shuffled in. Relatively clean. Organized. Not bad. In between curses that rivaled Hell’s Kitchen, a familiar voice drifted to her ears. Miranda frowned and tried to place it. So familiar. So annoying. So…

Allison Wheaton.

She stepped away from the wall at the same time the door flung open. Her heel dug for footing and slipped on the glossy finish. She hit the back wall hard and landed on her ass. The already short dress hiked up to massive heights.

She looked up. The woman stared down at her in astonishment and pure glee. Her perfect glossy hair hung in a neat bob. Golden hoops sparkled at her lobes. The pewter silk suit only added to her polish, right down to her Jimmy Choos.

Miranda scrambled to her feet in a desperate need to at least be at full height without her crotch hanging out. “What are you doing here?”

Allison’s dark eyes brimmed with mirth as she studied her appearance. “Doing a review, of course. I just got done speaking with the chef. An excellent meal, if I do say so myself.”

She spit out her words. “You knew I wanted to review LaSaveur for The Herald. Why don’t you stop stealing my beat and find your own restaurants? You have no originality.”

Allison lifted a brow. “And you’re always a step behind. You’ll never make it in this business, Miranda. You’re a cheap fluke, destined to come right back down. The only reason you got attention was from stealing my tagline.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks. “You’re just pissed because mine is more catchy.”

The woman shrugged. “Whatever. Really, darling, did you think no one would recognize you dressed like a cheap tramp? I knew who you were immediately.”

Miranda poked a finger at Allison’s small breasts. “I’d rather dress like a cheap tramp than be one. Or do you know this chef personally, too?”

“He happens to be a friend of my boyfriend’s, so if you’re thinking of trashing this restaurant, think again. I’m running my own in tomorrow’s issue—before you’ll ever have your review to print. Now, run along dear. Find someplace else to play with your food.”

Miranda simmered with frustration. Once again, she was being trumped. Getting to print the original review of a restaurant was key. If she ran a duplicate review with negative vibes, it would look like a thwarted attempt to discredit Allison’s opinion. Not cool in the food industry. As much as she wanted to, she’d never ruin her reputation or sink to the woman’s level. “Good luck selling your readers on this dump. At least I tell the truth and don’t trade favors for favors.”

Allison gasped.

Miranda spun away and marched back to her table. Grasping her wine glass, she chugged down the rest in one long swallow. “Get the bill, Gavin.”

“Why? I thought we were doing a review.”

“I’ve got other plans. Bigger plans.” She sashayed over to him and laid an open mouth, toe-curling, stomach-dropping kiss on that gorgeous mouth.

The waiter appeared and rested their entrees on the table. “Sir, your food.”

Her man surfaced from the kiss with a stupid expression on his face. “Huh?”

Miranda waved her hand in dismissal. “The bill. The food was decent, the service sucks, and this place blows.” She dropped one lid. “And I’m about to blow something else.”

The waiter stumbled back.

Gavin threw his credit card on the table. “Keep it. I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”

She laughed as he dragged her out of the restaurant.

…

Two days later, Gavin watched his lady smile up at her three admirers. Dominick, Brando, and Tony crowded around the table he’d vacated exactly three minutes ago.

Gavin shook his head. The men in his family moved fast when it came to a beautiful woman. He decided to hurry through his rounds and reclaim her. If he wasn’t careful, Brando would dump Tracey and challenge him for Miranda’s hand. Hell, they’d already eaten pizza together once this past week. Before long, they’d be going steady, and he’d have to duel his younger brother.

Soft laughter drifted through the air. He paused before table nine and looked over. Fiery red hair burned across the room and framed a face that had haunted his dreams for three years. His gut twisted in emotion. She belonged to him again. The knowledge brought humility. Satisfaction. And a deep, wrenching fear.

He was in love with her. Always had been. Always would be.

“Gavin?”

He blinked and looked down at his customer. “Yes, Mrs. Deniston?”

The older couple shared a look of common understanding. “You got it bad, son.”

Gavin groaned. “Is it that obvious?”

“You’ve been staring at her for the past five minutes. You also look like you’ve been run over by a freight train. All the signs are there.” Mr. Deniston scooped up the bill and poked his finger in the air. “You’d better do something about it.”

Gavin watched as his brother placed his hand over Miranda’s. “Hmm, maybe you’re right.”

“Don’t screw up. The right one comes along but once in a lifetime.”

“Maybe it’s time I take that advice. Thanks, Mr. Deniston. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll try some damage control.”

Funny, the revelation he loved her came naturally, almost as if the knowledge was always there in his heart. He just needed the guts to finally admit it. He needed to tell her. More importantly, he had to find a way to make her come with him.

Or he could stay.

The constant battle warred and left a trail of unease. Yes, he realized he wasn’t as happy in his job, but maybe he’d be able to tweak his career to make it more user-friendly. Was he really ready to chuck years of sacrifice and work to run a restaurant he never wanted? Save it, yes. Be more involved with Mia Casa and his family, yes. Visit more, yes.

But drop his entire life to work day and night in the food industry?

He pushed his thoughts aside and joined Brando, who perched on the edge of his seat, and leaned close to Miranda. “I think my brother is seriously crushing on you, baby. He’s been dragging you for pizza a lot lately.”

Brando glared. “You know I’m in love with Tracey.”

A grin tugged at Gavin’s lips. “Sorry.”

Miranda turned to Brando. “Why don’t I come by tomorrow at lunch, and we’ll finish our conversation?”

Brando brightened. “Okay. Come on, Dominick, let’s finish up in the back.”

The three men trooped off, looking star-struck. Gavin shook his head.

“What?” she asked.

“Why do you have to smile at them like that?”

She laughed. “Hmm, you’re still the same possessive Italian from years ago. They’re your family, darling. Perfectly safe to flirt with.”

He grunted. “Did Helena of Troy say something like that before the Trojan War?”

She linked her fingers through his and leaned in. The sweet scents of fresh berries drifted in the air. Her black crocheted sweater slipped down over one shoulder. He slipped one hand under the strap of her lace camisole and caressed her with a light, teasing touch. A rush of satisfaction hit him at her quick indrawn breath.

“Do you have to go back to work?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” He kneaded her neck with firm strokes, then massaged her scalp. She groaned. “Can you be late?”

“This can’t be possible. How can we want each other again so soon? After last night. And this morning. And in the kitchen.”

“We never did get breakfast.”

“You’re turning me into a nympho. I think I’m walking around with a stupid smile on my face 24/7, and Andy’s torturing me.”

He chuckled. “I’m getting the same treatment here.”

She pressed a quick kiss on his lips. “I’ve got to get back to the paper. If I don’t set up another good review, my editor will fire me. I’ve already drafted three columns, and they’re all on take-out Chinese.”

“That’s all we’ve eaten for the last four days.” He glanced down at her plate. “You didn’t touch your lunch.”

Her brow crinkled in frustration. “I know. Probably all that take-out. My stomach’s been queasy lately.”

“Are you getting sick?”

She shrugged. “Probably the beginning of that nasty stomach flu. It’s going around the office.”

“That settles it. I’m putting you to bed early tonight.”

A wicked gleam flashed in jade green eyes. “Do we get to play doctor?”

He grew to full attention at the idea of that scene. “Definitely,” he growled. Gavin grabbed her hand and led her outside the restaurant. “Have some tea to settle your stomach.”

“Darling, I have tea every night.”

“Have some crackers this time, maybe that will help.”

She laughed, but Gavin caught the pale tint to her skin when she passed a tray of steaming garlic pasta. He stepped onto the street. “Maybe you should go home now.”

“I’ll be fine. If I get worse, I’ll just work from home today.”

“Excuse me, I wondered if you can answer a question for us?”

Gavin turned to the two women dressed in expensive business suits by the door. What can I help you with?” he asked.

One woman motioned toward the sign. “Is this place any good? We’re both dying for Italian food, but we heard it got trashed in The Herald.”

Miranda stiffened. Gavin kept his voice calm and even. “We had some problems the night the critic visited. I’m the owner of the restaurant, and I can assure you both the food is outstanding.”

They shared a look. Gavin almost groaned. Obviously, they didn’t believe an owner could be impartial, and they were trying to come up with a dignified excuse that would allow them to leave.

“I never listen to critics,” Miranda cut in. “You can’t trust any of them—all they do is make money to eat for free and spout their own inflated opinions.”

Gavin wondered if she was running a fever.

“Did you eat in there?”

She nodded at the woman’s question. “Yep. Food was awesome, best Italian I’ve had in years.”

Obviously the women didn’t recognize her face, though they read her column. “Umm, may I interrupt and say—”

She waved one hand in the air. “Pasta is all homemade, bread is freshly baked, and the eggplant is perfect.”

Both women looked intrigued. “That sounds good. “

“It is. I eat here all the time.”

Gavin wondered if the sun cast that strange tint to her skin, or if she was really turning green. She continued praising his restaurant while the women inched toward the entrance.

“Thanks for the advice. By the way, what did you have for lunch?”

Gavin waited and wondered if she’d admit she only had a salad.

“Garlic pasta,” she said heartily. “It’s one of their specials, you’ll love it. In fact, I think—”

She gripped her stomach and bit down on her lower lip.

Gavin decided she’d turned the same shade the broccoli rabe was the night of her review. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

She gulped in a big breath of air. Her brow knit in concentration as she seemed to will away the waves of sickness.

Gavin guessed the action didn’t work.

She bent over and vomited on the sidewalk.

When Gavin looked up, the two women had hurried down the block and disappeared from sight.

…

“I’m so sorry.” A shiver seized her body and she buried deeper into the sea green blanket. The soft threads, crocheted by her grandma, soothed her. “I totally screwed up helping you get customers.”

He laughed and laid a damp washcloth across her brow. “Not your fault. But next time I think you should let me do the cajoling. Those women couldn’t run fast enough, even on high heels.”

Miranda giggled, but the cramps in her belly turned it to a half groan. “I know Tim gave this to me. He can only copyedit hunched over my computer, and he’s been out a few days. Bastard.”

“I’ll send him the garlic pasta today by special delivery. That’ll get him.” Gavin plunked the bucket near the couch and squeezed in beside her. “Lay your head on me while you rest.”

“You’ll get sick.”

He eased her back and tucked the edge of the blanket under her chin. “I already had my tongue in your mouth. I’m doomed, anyway.”

She choked out a laugh and her stomach settled. “Don’t you have to get back to work?”

“I called in the second shift staff to cover for me.”

“Gavin, I’m fine. Go back to work.”

“Who’s going to hold your hair back when you throw up? Isn’t that what good boyfriends do?”

She relaxed into the strength of his arms. When was the last time anyone cared enough to be with her when she was sick? No one. Her dates fled if she wasn’t up for eating or fooling around. This was nice. But he was going to get bored. How long could he just stay on her couch, holding her, while he waited for her to get sick? She roused herself and tried sparkling conversation. “So, what was your favorite place you visited on your travels?”

His chest rumbled. “Baby, I don’t think you care right now. Close your eyes and rest.”

The next wave began and she moaned. “Can’t. Couch is shaking. Go home, Gavin.”

“Not going anywhere.” He grabbed the remote and turned it to an old episode of Seinfeld. “Concentrate on this in the background. I used to do that when I was drunk. Takes away the spins.”

“I’m gonna—”

She flew across the room and made it to the bathroom. When she finally lifted her head, all dignity and pride shriveled and died. She stunk. She looked like crap. She wanted to crawl into a hole and surrender.

He picked her up from the cool white tile, helped wash her face, then pulled her hair back to gather it in a clip. He left for a moment and returned with a T-shirt and sweats, then helped her change. Gavin forced a sip of water down her throat and led her back to the couch.

His solid warmth comforted her in a way she hadn’t experienced since her grandmother held her during the flu. The sickness and emotions whirled together in a rush. “Gavin?”

“What, baby?”

“I’m sorry. About the review.” She tried to gulp a breath. “You were right. I wrote it because I was angry at you and wanted you to hurt. Just like I did when you left me.” She waited a beat, then pushed through the rest. “I wanted to be the one to get the last word for once.”

She waited for his temper. Disappointment. Waited for him to leave.

Instead, he stroked back her hair. “I know. Thank you for telling me the truth.”

Regret choked her throat. “I can’t do another review, either. I—I won’t.”

“Okay.”

His simple acceptance rocked her soul, but another bout of nausea distracted her from analyzing her reaction. She ran back to the bathroom, misery and exhaustion battling for supremacy.

The hours passed. He didn’t leave. Didn’t speak. When the worst of the pain passed, Miranda lay her sweat-drenched head against him and let go. Seinfeld turned into Friends and The Big Bang Theory. Night fell and she slept. When she roused herself to open her eyes and take another sip of water, something deep inside of her shifted and broke open.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He smiled and caressed her cheek. “Welcome.”

She fell back asleep.

Chapter Eight

“Have you guys done it yet?”

Miranda arched one brow and peered over her black-framed glasses in disapproval. Andy leaned against the computer desk and munched on a cannoli. Fresh cream spilled out from a perfectly formed crust, making her fingers clench around her pen. Damn, every time three o’clock hit she got the sugar craving, and she could always count on Andy to stroll past her with some kind of dessert. The awful virus had passed and given her a jump-start on her diet. Why screw it up now? Too many carbs and dessert menus had to go somewhere, and her hips were too meaty. Unfortunately, she wanted to gobble down that rich, Italian pastry more than she wanted to fit in her new size.

“Hmm, my ears must be playing tricks on me. You’d never ask such a tasteless question.”

“Nope, you heard right. You’ve been seeing him for a couple of weeks and still haven’t told me if you did it.” He broke off a piece of buttery crust and popped the wedge in his mouth. Crankiness hit her.

“Did it?” she repeated.

Andy rolled his eyes. “Come on, Miranda, don’t you remember the slang term? Did the nasty. Had sex. Got it on. Need I continue?”

“You’re warped.”

He grinned. “You did, didn’t you?”

“Why is my sex life suddenly so important to you?”

“Dear friend, you haven’t had a sex life for me to get excited about. I’m just trying to make up for lost time.”

She shook her head. “If you and Gavin are such good buddies now, why don’t you ask him?”

Andy shoved the last piece of pastry in his mouth and licked his fingers. “When a man cares about a woman, he keeps his sex life to himself. Common fact. We don’t gossip like women.”

She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. “You won’t ask Gavin this question because of a male code of ethics, but it’s okay to ask me?”

“Yep.”

She smiled. “Women have their own code, Andy. Maybe you’ve heard of it.”

“What?”

“We never kiss and tell.”

Andy nodded. “Yep, you guys did it.”

She threw up her hands in defeat. “I’ll never win without Elaine here. Where did you get the cannoli?”

“Gavin brought them over.”

“He was here?”

“Yeah, you had to run out for that quote from the French manager. He couldn’t wait. Something about setting up for the night crowd.”

“That’s right, he has the lounge open on Wednesdays now.”

“How’s business after you trashed the place?”

Miranda glowered at her friend. “Fine. Anyway, my review was perfectly valid.”

“Are you going to do a second review?”

She bit her lower lip. “I never do repeat visits. It’s my motto, remember?”

Andy studied her worried face. “Uh-oh. Let me try to guess this one. You don’t know whether or not to trust your feelings, do you? You’re afraid he might be using you for the review.”

The past week she spent with Gavin flashed before her. Things were changing between them. Fast. The wall carefully built around her emotions was crumbling, and she didn’t know what to do.

He had forgiven her. Somehow, someway, he allowed himself to move past her need for revenge, even though she’d also hurt his family. He never asked for the second review since the night of her illness, as if the issue was closed. How could she fight a man who forgave?

The man she rediscovered held a gentle warmth in his eyes that had never been there before. He listened with a patience and curiosity that told her he wanted to discover her inner soul. He made love to her with an intensity that not only claimed her body, but her heart and her mind. When she’d first met him, all he knew was how to take. Now, he gave himself freely, and she found herself falling in love with him all over again.

This whole episode was supposed to revolve around sex. Moving on. Letting go. Instead, she’d gotten attached all over again, and complicated things with a review and his temporary assignment that would end in a few more weeks. She swore she’d be dignified and adult when they said good-bye. Instead, bubbles of panic rose up in her throat at the thought.

“Hey, Andy!”

They both turned. Richie, one of the staff photographers, motioned toward the door. “Get in here. I need your opinion on this photo to run with your piece.”

“Hope he got something good. Last time he photographed a yoga class for me.”

“Yoga is hot, though.”

“Yeah, but Richie took shots that would’ve massacred my name. Women with their legs up in the air, folded in half with their rears exposed.” He shuddered. “I needed a male in the class to offset the feminine hormones, but there wasn’t a guy in sight. The piece ended up looking like a puzzle of female bits better off in Cosmopolitan.”

“What’s this new story?”

“Zumba.”

She laughed. “Good luck with that one, buddy.”

He left, and she spent the next minutes battling with her sugar mania. Could the staff have eaten all of them in an hour? Maybe she’d cut one in half, just for a taste. Her work phone flashed and she picked it up. “Miranda Storme.”

“Did Andy eat all the cannolis?”

His voice rumbled through the receiver and her belly dipped. “Probably. If the Lifestyle and Health department find them, I’m dead. I’m sorry I missed you before.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. We’re short-staffed tonight, and I’ve put some heavy advertising into Wednesday happy hour. I want to make sure everything goes smooth.”

“I understand. How’s the crowd been?”

He paused, and her belly clenched. “Good. There’s been more action since the lounge opened.”

Miranda caught the undercurrent in his statement and knew Mia Casa took a bad hit after her column. She’d seen his full-page ads in The Foodie magazine, The Herald, and Gazette. He engaged solid marketing tools, tons of money, but an important element was missing. The endorsement of a big name in the food industry.

Instead, she’d mucked up the reputation he tried to rebuild.

Guilt ate at her. Sure, it was an honest review, and she’d followed the rules, but she didn’t want to hurt his family. What was she going to do? Break her code and write a second review? What if someone dug deeper and realized they were sleeping together? Her professional reputation may be questioned, and everything she worked so hard for.

“Are you okay? You got quiet.”

She re-focused on the conversation. “I’m fine. Gavin, do men have certain codes?”

“Yeah, one.”

“What is it?”

“No cheating at poker.”

She made a note to tell Andy he was a liar. “I thought so.”

“Oh, and never ask another man about his sex life if he has feelings for the woman.”

“Damn.”

“What’s the matter?”

She sighed. “Nothing. Just thinking about the cannolis. I know they’re all gone.”

He dropped his voice to a sexy whisper. “Open your top drawer.”

“Does this have to do with anything sexual?” she asked.

“Do it.”

She slid the drawer open. One perfect pastry sat atop a snowy white napkin. Fat chocolate chips peeked out from under fresh cream. She shook with excitement. “Oh, Gavin.”

“I’ll be waiting to be thanked properly later.”

“It’s beautiful. It’s perfect, it’s even better than Andy’s.”

He sighed. “I knew I’d never compete with an Italian pastry.”

“I’ll wait up for you tonight and show you how grateful I really—” she broke off as Andy raced through the door and stopped at her desk. Her fingers tightened around the receiver at the look of raw fear on his features. “Hold on for a second. Andy, what’s the matter?”

Andy took a ragged breath. “Elaine called. Stephen was taken to the hospital. He hit his head and he has—he has a concussion. I’ve got to get over there.”

“Do you want me to stay with Laura?”

“No, she’s at a girlfriend’s house.”

“I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

“Emergency room.”

She looked her friend in the eye. “He’s going to be okay.”

He shuddered. “Right. Meet you there.”

She closed her eyes to fight the panic and spoke into the receiver. “Andy got a call that Stephen was rushed to the hospital. He fell and has a concussion.”

“God, he’s just a little kid.”

“I know. I’m going over there now.”

Silence settled over the line. “I’ll pick you up and we’ll drive together. Stay put.”

“No. You already told me you’re short-staffed, and besides, I’m fine. I can handle the situation.”

“I know you can, Red. But I’m coming anyway.”

“No. I’ll call you from the hospital with an update. I don’t want to argue about this.”

“I agree. I’m on my way.”

The phone clicked.

…

Miranda gratefully reached for the cup of hot coffee and took a sip. Gavin settled into the seat next to her and cradled his own cup in his hands. “Any news?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Elaine said the next twenty-four hours are the most critical. The doctors have to watch him carefully. They’re in with him now but I told them we’d wait a little longer.” Miranda pushed back the loose strands of hair that escaped her topknot and rubbed her temple. “He’s so young. What will they do if he—”

“He won’t. Thoughts like that only make things worse.”

She shook herself out of her trance and raised her chin. His words cut through the haze of fear that temporarily overwhelmed her. Images of another hospital visit, alone, taunted her. “You’re right. I’m being selfish and stupid by talking like this. I’m here to help.”

His face softened. “You couldn’t be selfish or stupid if you tried, Red. We’ve been here for hours. It’s normal to get edgy.”

She placed the cup down and entwined her hands with his. The warm, muscled strength of his fingers seeped into her skin and melted some of the chill. “Who’s running the restaurant?”

“Brando and Pop. They’re fully capable.”

“You didn’t have to come. It’s not like you know Andy and Elaine that well. I could have called with updates.”

HIs eyes burned blue-gray fire. “Andy let me into his home and allowed me to babysit his son. Now his son is in danger, and if I can do anything to help, then my time here was worth it.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“And I came for you. You love him, and you’re so stubborn you’d never admit you need support.”

“I’m not stubborn.”

“You are. Business goes on every day, Miranda, but people are the most important.”

She didn’t get a chance to answer. Elaine and Andy came into the waiting area and she rose to meet them. “How is he?”

Elaine blinked away tears. “The doctors had to give him ten stitches. He’s complaining about dizziness, so they’re keeping overnight for observation.”

Miranda put her arm around Elaine. Flashes of leaving the hospital with nothing but a hole in her gut danced in her vision. This wasn’t about her. She never had to go through such a heart-wrenching experience again, and damned if she was going to start crying now. She stiffened her muscles against the assault, and the box of emotions held tight. Gavin glanced at her oddly but eased away to give her space. “He’s going to be fine.”

Elaine nodded jerkily and wiped her eyes. “Yes. Damn, I just feel so guilty. I was in the other room when I heard the crash. He’d climbed on top of the cabinet and hit the table when he fell. I should have watched him closer.”

Miranda shook her head. “No, you’re one of the best mothers I know. It was an accident, and these things happen with children. It’s not your fault.”

They stood in silence and watched Andy and Gavin from across the room. The two men seemed deep in conversation. Elaine spoke in a small voice. “When I first found out I was pregnant with Laura, I was scared out of my mind. I never intended on having a baby. I wanted to have a good time with my husband, travel, build my career.”

Miranda smiled. “I bet you changed your mind.”

“Not right away. It took me months to get adjusted to the idea of having a child, and even then I wasn’t sure if I made the right decision. When I held her in my arms and looked into her face, I knew we’d created a miracle. Imagine that, Miranda. A little person who is half you and half the man you love.”

A wave of pain burst over her and left her choked for breath. She bit her lip hard and hung on.

“With Stephen, I was able to embrace my pregnancy because I was less afraid.”

“Children will do that,” she said. “You focus so much on giving them everything you need, you forget to be afraid.”

“Except times like this. Right now, I’m more afraid than I’ve ever been in my life. Children will give you the greatest joy you can experience, but at the same time, they rip out your heart and cause you the greatest pain.”

Miranda watched Gavin give Andy a hug. “Yes, I can imagine they do.”

She muttered an excuse about needing the water fountain and moved away. God, she needed some distance. The sound and scents of the hospital opened up raw wounds not yet healed. She edged down the hall and focused on the television hung on the wall in the waiting area. Spongebob Squarepants cackled and flipped crabby patties across the screen.

Strong arms slipped around her waist and pulled her against his chest. The top of Gavin’s chin rested lightly on her head. “What are you thinking about?”

Miranda sighed and leaned more heavily into his muscled warmth. A strange emptiness filled her. “Nothing.”

“You’re lying, I can tell.”

She arched one brow. “How?”

“You can’t look me in the eye.”

“Darling, I’m not facing you at the moment. It’s physically impossible to look you in the eye.”

“See, my point exactly. What were you and Elaine talking about?”

“What were you and Andy talking about?”

He let out his breath in a soft whoosh. “Even utterly exhausted you always have to challenge me. Ok, I’ll give in first. We were talking about kids.”

She stiffened. “I see. What did you discuss?”

“The way they change a person’s life.” He paused. “Don’t you agree?”

Her chest tightened. “I guess. Want another cup of coffee?”

“No.”

“I’ll get one.”

“You put it back up again, didn’t you?”

The vise around her heart squeezed a notch. “What are you talking about?”

“The wall,” he muttered. He studied her defensive stance with hard eyes. “What are your views on children, Red?”

She lowered her voice. “Why do you suddenly want to know? Sleeping with me doesn’t give you the right to judge my choices about children. Since marriage was never an option between us, I don’t think we have anything to discuss.”

A muscle worked in his jaw. Over six feet of masculine fury towered over her. “I’ll let that remark pass since we’ve had a hell of a night.”

Her lower lip trembled. “I don’t want children.”

He jerked back as if struck. Miranda wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. A strange mixture of grief and disbelief shimmered in stormy blue depths. “Why?”

Miranda hesitated, then broke eye contact. He was getting too close, and she needed to shut down the conversation. She spoke the words carefully. “I’ve changed, Gavin. When a woman has a child, she doesn’t belong to herself anymore. For the rest of her life, she’s responsible for another human being. I don’t want that.”

He raked his fingers through his hair. “No messy emotions, huh? The same requirements you demand from your relationships now?”

Fury and regret tightened every muscle in her body, but she refused to give in. Not here. Not now. It was so much better to forget. “Leave me alone. I’ve had enough.”

She pivoted on her heel and walked out of the waiting room.

Chapter Nine

Gavin studied her profile in the flicker of headlights. She leaned her head wearily against the side window and stared out into the night. Her clip loosened, and strands tumbled over her shoulder, shielding her from view. He listened to Daughtry sing about coming home, and allowed the thought he’d pushed away all evening to surface.

She hadn’t cried.

His gut twisted. Miranda Storme used to be a woman who burst into tears at Hallmark commercials. Sad songs on the radio. Old movies. Operas. She’d taught him it wasn’t weak to cry, because she’d been the strongest woman he’d known.

They’d spent most of the night waiting for the final word and helping her friends cope. When the doctor finally came in to tell them Stephen was out of danger, Elaine lost it and jumped into her husband’s arms. Andy caught her with trembling hands, obviously fighting back his own tears.

Miranda collapsed on the seat with relief and closed her eyes. A variety of emotions passed over her face, but when she re-opened her eyes, she’d been back in control.

He’d caught glimmers of that woman this past week. In moments of passion, she seemed to surrender. She yelled at him now, and laughed too loud. But tonight, she’d calmly informed him she didn’t want children, and remained tearless after an emotionally draining evening.

Gavin let out a humorless laugh.

Karma was a bitch.

He pulled in the lot and turned to her. He waited for a response, but her words were like a polite stranger’s. “Would you like to come up?”

He needed to finish this. Dig deeper and find out if there was any way to save their relationship. “Sure. Maybe we can have some of that designer tea you drink.”

She looked at him strangely, as if trying to read his thoughts, then rummaged through her purse for her keys. They walked inside and flicked on the lights. “How about some Sleepytime?” she called from the kitchen.

He paused by the window. “You actually have a tea called Sleepytime?”

“Yep.”

“Sure, what the hell. Tea always made me nervous. It reminds me of a witches brew. You never know what you’re really drinking.”

Her laughter floated through the room. “You’re a coffee man at heart. Coffee drinkers never get along with tea drinkers.”

He pulled back the chic linen curtains and studied the rows of blinking lights outlining the bridge. The Hudson River snaked along in the background and gleamed silver in the moonlight. Stars streaked a blue-black sky and mocked his sudden gloomy thoughts. He wondered if she drank cappuccino anymore. They’d spent many nights in small cafes, chairs pulled close together, talking and laughing as they sipped from an array of espresso and cafe latte.

Now she drank tea.

Gavin shook his head in disgust. He was acting ridiculous. His mood had nothing to do with her drinking tea. The root of his worry lay in the knowledge she’d never be able to surrender her entire self, because she’d lost the ability to trust. At least with him. Maybe the final wall would never be broken.

“Tea’s ready.”

Her silky voice ruffled his nerve endings. The familiar scent of strawberry and cream teased his nostrils, and he knew that in her own way, she’d achieved the ultimate revenge. Even if he walked away, she’d ruined him for any other woman. Gavin fought the rage of emotions that shook through his body and tried to keep his voice even. “Thanks. I’ll be right in.”

“What’s the matter?”

He turned from the window. Slowly, he reached out and ran one finger down her cheek, traced the lush curve of her lower lip, pressed his thumb into the thundering pulse point at the base of her neck.

“You didn’t cry.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t want to have this discussion about children again.”

He shook his head. “I admit you surprised me, and yes, I’m upset. But it’s more than that, Miranda. You didn’t shed one tear the entire evening. When the doctor told us Stephen would be okay, I saw your face. You wanted to cry—hell, you needed to cry—but you couldn’t. Same thing after Pagliacci. You practically shook with the need to let go. You’ve shut down your emotions to such an extent that I don’t know what to do anymore to break through.”

She stepped back, looking like a trapped wild animal. “So I didn’t cry. I still feel things. I’m not a cold human being who can’t experience emotions. There are many people who don’t cry.”

“Baby, you know what I’m talking about,” he said softly. “You hold back. It’s as if something else happened to you. Something you won’t share.”

She sucked in her breath. Closed her eyes. Clenched her fists and trembled.

The words came out in a rush. “There was a baby, Gavin. Our baby.”

…

Miranda spoke the words and a bone-deep relief rushed through her body. How many times had she dreamed about telling him? Wished he’d hold her in his arms and they could mourn the loss together? She tried to protect him from the truth since it was too late, but realized now she owed him everything. He had a right to know what happened after he left. The lock on her carefully cultivated control crashed open and left her with a writhing, snarling monster mess.

He stiffened. Slowly turned around. Shock widened his eyes and he staggered over to the couch to grasp the edge. “What did you say?” he whispered.

The naked vulnerability and wild hope on his face sliced at her flesh like knives. “I never wanted you to know,” she whispered. “Not when it was too late.”

His olive skin turned bone white as he processed her response. “Tell me. Everything.”

Miranda gave a jerky nod. Her skin grew clammy and cold, and her stomach churned. Maybe he’d finally understand why she’d never be the woman he walked away from.

She recited the story with no emotion, as if relaying someone else’s experience. “After you left me, I got sick. I went to the doctor and he told me I was pregnant.”

“You were on the pill.”

“Yes, but remember when I got food poisoning on those oysters? I threw up for almost three days. I never thought I wouldn’t be protected, just kept continuing to take my pill. But I was stupid, so stupid, and I paid for that mistake.”

“Did you plan on telling me?”

She lifted her chin. “No. That was the day I got your email.” A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “Obviously, you weren’t ready to be a daddy, let alone have a committed relationship. I decided to keep the baby and do it myself.”

He rubbed his eyes with his knuckles, as if trying to wake up from a bad dream. “What happened to the baby, Miranda?”

She finished the story dry-eyed. “I kept my pregnancy a secret and planned. I figured I’d work mostly from home and we’d be fine.”

He choked and murmured something under his breath but she pushed on.

“I was twelve weeks when I miscarried. I was waiting to get to that mark, you see, because all the books say you have the biggest chance of miscarriage within the first twelve weeks. I almost made it. But I started bleeding heavily in the middle of the night, and I didn’t know what to do. I called 911 and they rushed me to the hospital. I lost the baby a few hours later.”

She stared sightlessly past him, seeing the pale green hospital walls, the scurry of nurses back and forth, the soft voice of the therapist lecturing her about grief and postpartum. She remembered leaving without her baby. Without anything but a cold, empty space she knew would never be filled again.

The silence pulsed with unspoken demons and broken promises. “Now you know why I don’t want children. I never want that type of grief again. If you want to punish me for my lack of bravery, go ahead. But you’re not the one who had to do it all alone.”

His shattered expression punched through her chest and squeezed her heart. He moved toward her and then she was in his arms. His grip was so tight it became almost painful, but she hung on to his warmth in a desperate attempt to save the last of her soul. They clung to one another for endless minutes, and for the first time, some of the aching loneliness seeped away in his embrace.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, baby.” He kissed her temple, stroked her hair, rocking her gently. “I didn’t know. Jesus, please forgive me, I didn’t know.”

She let him hold her until the last of the anger dissipated. He was finally here, back in her arms. All of those fantasies night after night of him coming back and stating he made a terrible mistake finally came true.

When he released her, tear tracks streaked his cheeks. She wiped them away with her fingers, but when he looked into her eyes, a cold, hard ball of lead settled in the pit of her stomach. She glimpsed grief. Pain. Regret.

The worst was the grim resolution on his face.

“I understand now,” he said.

Panic nipped at her and she suddenly realized her confession had broken something fragile between them.

“No wonder you’ve changed. I left you all alone to deal with a baby, and treated you like someone disposable.” A choking sound came from his throat. “All this time I thought you were too afraid to open yourself up. But how could you ever trust me again? I abandoned you.”

She stepped toward him. “No, Gavin, it’s not like that.” Self-disgust curled his sensual lips. She watched as her lover drifted further away, caught up in a raw guilt she didn’t know how to heal. “Please listen to me. I don’t blame you anymore. It was my choice not to track you down. My choice to keep the baby and do it alone. I never gave you an opportunity to take any action, and that’s not your fault.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t give you a chance to tell me. I only cared about myself. My dreams. I walked away from something good and pure. I thought I could win you back. Prove myself. Instead, I dredged up the past and hurt you even more. I’m so stupid.” Moisture shown in his eyes and he blinked it away. “I was sure I’d convince you to go with me. I had this fucking happy-ever-after ending in my head, where I tell you I love you, and you jump on the plane.”

He loved her. Did she believe it was enough this time? Why was the image of following him suddenly so vivid? Why did it fill her up with raw need instead of scorn? Reality twisted before her until she didn’t know her true North anymore.

A dozen responses stuck in her throat. Her feet froze to the floor.

He drew himself up to full height. Determination and resolve flickered in those aqua blue eyes. Her heart thrummed madly in her chest.

“I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself for what I did to you. God knows, I understand why you can’t. But I love you. I will do anything you need to prove myself and make up for the past. I won’t leave you again.”

Her palms grew damp. The breath came choppy from her throat. “You only have a few weeks left.”

“I’ll stay.”

The words tore her flesh like bullets. She squeezed her eyes shut in pure agony. He’d stay. For her. But at what sacrifice? So he could resent her forever for not going after his real dream? For trapping him into a relationship because of his guilt over the baby? No, not like this. “I don’t want you to stay,” she forced out.

“Then I’ll take you with me. We’ll work it out. All you have to do is take a leap of faith. I swear to God, Miranda, I’ll never give you another reason to distrust me again.”

Silence fell. He waited for her answer and she clenched her fingers into fists. She was close. So close to jumping in his arms and taking another chance. They’d make the relationship work somehow. He wouldn’t hurt her again. Wouldn’t leave her behind.

Her mother left for the bottle.

Gavin left for his career.

Eventually, didn’t everyone leave her behind? And what type of life could they possibly have together? Days spent alone in some strange hotel overseas. Waiting for him to get home and entertain her. Waiting for the day he realized it wasn’t going to work and left her again.

No. She wasn’t ready to trust him with her soul.

Maybe she’d never be able to get there again.

Her lack of response gave him the answer. He pushed his hands through his hair and bowed his head. “You’re never going to trust me again, are you?”

Her eyes remained mercilessly dry, though the tears wept for release. “I’m so sorry, Gavin. I can’t do this.”

Emotion ravaged his face. Slowly, he nodded and fumbled for the door. “I’ll let you go. I can’t fight for both of us, not if you don’t want to try. And I’m sorry, too. For everything.”

He shut the door behind him.

Miranda stood alone in the living room, in silence. Alone. She slumped down to the ground as her muscles lost all their function and buried her face in her hands. For the first time in years, she let herself feel the storm of emotions wreck her. This time, she surrendered. She cried nonstop—for herself, for Gavin, and for what could have been.

…

The knock on the door barely registered, so she ignored it. Miranda snuggled under her blanket and stared sightlessly at the television. Since most of the soap operas had been canceled, her choices were weepy Lifetime movies or talk shows. A reality star celebrity chirpily chatted about the latest gossip so she decided to take a nap. Again.

The pounding grew louder. She groaned and raised her head. “Go away!”

“Miranda, open the door. Now.”

She cursed under her breath, yanked the blanket away, and stumbled to the door. “I’m sick, Andy. You shouldn’t come in.”

“Open the door.”

She released the chain and let him in. His eyes widened when he caught sight of her appearance. She wondered briefly how bad it had gotten. Pretty bad, if the look on his face was any indication. Miranda ignored it and climbed back to her new home on the couch.

“What the hell is going on? You won’t answer your cell, you haven’t been to work, and you look like something that crawled out of the swamp.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“Ah, geez, and you smell.” He glanced around the cluttered apartment, where the remote lay amidst empty bags of potato chips, half eaten Ben & Jerry’s ice cream pints, and an array of wine bottles. “Gross, you’ve been on the break-up diet. What happened with Gavin? I can’t believe you didn’t call me.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “I told him the truth. And he did the honorable thing, of course. He left me. Again.”

Andy crinkled his brow. “Back up. You’re gonna have to fill me in.”

Odd, now the secret she’d lived with for so long felt natural to share. “Three years ago, after he left me, I found out I was pregnant.”

“Holy shit.” He sat down on the edge of the chair. “Tell me everything.”

She did. The story spilled out, and another scab formed over the wound. Funny, she’d never thought sharing her hurt could help her heal, but she felt freer than ever before. He listened, sometimes wincing, but completely supportive and open.

“What was Gavin’s reaction?” he finally asked.

“He wanted another chance. Asked me to try and trust him again. Said he’d never leave. But I know the truth, Andy. I’ll be left behind. I always am.”

Andy cocked his head. “How do you know?”

She peered at him from under the blanket. “I just know. I’m not following him to Europe, and I won’t turn him into a martyr. He’d eventually end up hating me and leaving anyway.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s a mess. We’re a mess. First I wanted nothing to do with him. Then I thought if we had sex, I’d get him out of my system. Then I realized I’m still in love with him.”

“Nothing like a woman who knows her own mind.”

She glowered. “I need to move forward with my life. Live on my own terms and leave the past behind.”

“Huh, seems to me you’re doing the opposite. Running away from your true feelings because you’re too afraid. Gavin loves you and wants to stay. You’re not letting him choose at all. You already set him up to leave you again and break your heart. Maybe it’s time you took a good look at what you really want, and then have enough guts to go after it.”

What did she want? How had her motives gotten so screwed up? First, she’d just wanted him to leave her alone. Then she craved revenge. Moved on to sex. And now she wanted…

Everything.

Her friend’s words stirred up all the pain like a witch’s brew gone bad. No, this was for the best. Every time she tried to break through the barrier, the knowledge he’d never tried to contact her burned in her gut.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Andy. I’m tired.”

He let out a frustrated breath and glared. “That’s because you’re sleeping twenty hours a day. Look, I’ll cover you for one more. Then your ass better be back to work writing a column. Got it?”

“Sure. How’s Stephen? I called Elaine before and she said everything was fine. Just the stitches and a few bruises.”

“Yeah, the little devil is back to his normal mischief. The doctor said get used to the ER, since the kid almost crawled out of the hospital bed to climb the dresser to get to the balloons.”

She smiled. “I’ll come visit this weekend.”

“Only if you shower first.”

“Deal.”

He shook his head and left. The evening dragged by, and she got caught up in old movies. She settled on The Joker’s Wild, enjoying Sinatra’s character and thinking about Gavin’s father. Soon, she was wrapped up in the push and pull of their relationship, building toward the big ending where Frank crooned the classic, All The Way, and lost the girl. Unbelievably, tears pricked her lids, threatening to escape. If only love was easy, where a song or a love letter made things magically—

Letters.

She sat up and flung back the blanket. Heart slamming against her chest, she walked into the kitchen and removed the stack of letters from the drawer.

She pulled out the envelopes and her fingers trembled. One by one, she removed the letters and read every word, smoothing out the crinkled paper, trapped in the world Gavin inhabited during those years apart. Lines of verse blurred into one another.

A bright, orange moon hangs over the skyline in Florence, and I’m thinking of you…

Calcutta has shown me another side to myself. I see the poverty in the streets, the begging for food, the smell of death. Yet, I also see joy in the children who have nothing, and never question their place in this world. I wonder, my love, if I ever really knew what was important. If perhaps my journeys have led me here…

I turned a street corner in Paris and caught your scent, but when I looked for you, there was only an empty roadway…

Why can’t I get rid of this hole in my gut? I finally got everything I ever wanted, and now I realize how empty it is without you…without my family. Have I made the biggest mistake of my life? Is it too late for me? How could I have been so wrong about the only goal I ever had…

With trembling hands, Miranda laid the letters on the table. The postmarks and smeared ink reflected a journey of the man she thought she knew. If she fought past the crippling fear of being hurt, could they have a chance at something precious? The future was uncertain. He may go back to his career and leave her behind again. They weren’t the same people any longer—their younger, more innocent selves. She’d grown up, and now took what she wanted. She had the rare opportunity to close out the past on her terms.

Wasn’t it time to face her fears?

In order to find out, she needed to re-open a door she swore she’d never unlock.

When she fell in love with Gavin, it was the first time she ever opened herself up to the idea of love. Her gamble only dragged her back to her past, where everyone important in her life walked away. She’d sworn to never be hurt like that again. These past few weeks opened her up in a new way, and pushed her to grow. Gavin demanded. Every physical reaction, every laugh, every smile. She began to like the person she was with him: strong, confident, but open. Open to life, love, hurt. It was a huge risk.

Could she finally put the past aside and be the woman she wanted to be?

Miranda sat up. God, she was so tired of being afraid. Tired of being a mere shadow of the woman who clamored out from her inner being and longed to be set free. She’s been brave enough to pick up the pieces and create a career she loved. Didn’t she deserve to give her whole heart and damn the consequences?

She needed to rediscover her strength and take a chance on the future. With the man she loved and had never been able to forget.

She had nothing more to lose.

…

Gavin snapped back the shot of tequila and barely felt the sting. Good, maybe he’d finally reach a level of numbness. The past two nights had been like descending into Dante’s Inferno, and heaven seemed an impossible climb up. Not that he deserved it. Hell was his new home now.

The drama of his thoughts wrung a laugh from his lips. His cell beeped again, and he glanced at the emergency text from his brother. Where the fuck r u?

He punched out his response. Sick. Cover fOr me.

The phone vibrated. Last time. Mom and pop worried.

Gavin sat back and refilled his glass. Being away from the restaurant for two nights in a row was criminal, and if Brando had pulled this crap he’d kill him. He’d tried to get ready, but the idea of facing his family with guilt eating his insides proved too much to handle. One more night of self-pity and drunkenness. One more night of incredible pain and self-recriminations. Then he’d get himself together.

He ignored the doorbell and figured the person would go away. When the banging became insistent, he muttered a curse and flung open the door.

Miranda.

He drank in her figure with a greediness he despised. Even after destroying her, he never seemed to get enough—his hunger to immerse himself in her fire and light pulsed through him. Yet, he managed to back away and keep his distance. If she’d come to release more rage, he’d take it.

“Hello, Gavin.”

Her voice curled like smoke and singed. His gaze swept over the short lime green raincoat that left her legs bare. Mist shimmered around her hair from the rain like an angel’s halo gone naughty. Her crimson lips pursed as she waited him out. Her coat was cinched tight, but no fabric marred the swell of her breasts or neck. Dewy peach skin tempted him to take a bite, but instead he nodded and let her in.

Gavin cursed as he sprung to attention and yanked on his sweatpants. Down boy. The luscious curve of her buttocks swung as she entered his house and curiously gazed around. He hadn’t cleaned for company, and realized it looked like a bachelor pad gone wild. Empty beer bottles and junk food bags filled the surfaces. The sixty-inch television reflected a football game with the sound muted. A stadium blanket for the NY Giants lay over the leather couch, and remnants from a pizza delivery still wafted in the air. Yep. Way to impress the girl of his dreams. Not that it mattered anymore.

“I wanted to talk to you. About what we spoke about the other night.”

His gut clenched, but he made sure to look open for conversation. Gavin didn’t know if he could take anymore. The pain reflected on her face the night she confessed the truth would haunt him forever. He’d caused her misery from his selfishness, and no act could possibly redeem him. Her complete rejection humbled him. He swallowed past the tightness in his throat. “Of course. I’m willing to talk about anything you need. I just didn’t want to cause you any more distress.”

One red brow arched at his polite tone. “I think you left before I could properly tell you how I feel.”

He winced but readied himself for the torment. “I’m sorry. Go ahead.”

“I want you.”

Every muscle tightened. Her words roared in his ears like a flight gone turbulent. Knowing he walked the edge of insanity, he stared at her. “What?”

“When I first found out I was pregnant, of course I blamed you. You left me. But you had nothing to do with me losing the baby, and I never gave you the choice to come home. Maybe we would’ve made it, maybe not. We’ll never know. I’m tired of reliving the past, Gavin. I’ve never felt more alive since you came back into my life, and I’m willing to see if we can build something together. Something solid and new and real. I’m ready to take a gamble on us.”

He looked at the woman in front of him and realized she offered him the whole fantasy. All of her, body and soul, ready for surrender. Gavin gave up his last shred of hope and realized he needed to release her. Somehow he’d convinced her to take a chance, but it was too late. Too late for them.

He bore down. “Before you told me your true feelings, I would’ve fallen to my knees in gratitude. Now I realize how much more you deserve. How could you ever trust me again? Open yourself up enough to have the relationship we both need?”

“I can try.”

“Bullshit.” He knew then that he was fighting for both of them. If she couldn’t save herself from a lifetime of regret, than he’d do it for her. “I’ll never be enough,” he ground out. “I’ll always be the man who left you at the most vulnerable time in your life. Can you live like that? Or do you want me to be slowly tortured, constantly waiting for the old wounds to flare up? Wait for you to accuse me of leaving you behind?”

He prepared himself for tears and an evening dedicated to trying to forget the anguish.

“Let me tell you what I want.” She drew in a ragged breath as if afraid to take the final plunge. He waited for her retreat, but she lifted that stubborn chin and met his gaze all the way. “I want you. I want you to give us another chance. I want to start fresh—tonight.”

“Miranda—”

“I’ve been afraid, but I’m tired of it. I’ve always belonged to you. You claimed me years ago, Gavin. I just haven’t been able to admit it. So let’s finish this tonight. Take me now and show me.”

He uttered a vicious curse as his skin tightened and burned with the frantic need to possess her. “I won’t let you go again,” he warned. “If you try to leave me, I’ll find you. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

He waited a beat. Then closed the distance, yanking her into his arms and crashing his mouth upon hers.

The kiss was wild and hot, a primitive act of a man claiming his woman, and allowed her no retreat as his tongue plundered her mouth in a punishing pleasure. The scent of ripened strawberries and rich vanilla filled his head, and he tangled his fingers in the glorious weight of her hair and tugged, giving him better access. He stroked, possessed, deflowered. A moan purred from her lips but he swallowed it whole and didn’t up the bruising pressure of the kiss. When he finally ripped his mouth from hers, she panted, her eyes wide and half drugged.

She took a step back and reached for her belt. Slowly untied the sash. And let the coat drop.

The room spun like a crazed Tilt-a-Whirl ride.

She stood before him, gloriously naked. Not a scrappy piece of lace or underwire marred the perfection of smooth, soft curves and the triangle of hair between her thighs. Clad in black leather heels, she threw her shoulders back and let him drink her fill. The last of his will melted away and left him a broken shell. Once he touched her, he’d never let her leave him. He’d bind her to him with his body and his mind, exorcise every last demon and give her his last breath if she stayed. Gavin shook and clenched his fists.

She reached for his pants to push them down, but he caught her hands. “My way this time,” he commanded. Her nipples peaked at his words, and the musky scent of her arousal drifted to his nostrils. Keeping himself a few inches away from her, he trailed a finger down the valley of her breasts, swiping the tight nipples and eliciting a throaty gasp. He traced the curve of her hip, the crease of her pelvis, the center of her buttocks. Her muscles clenched, but she kept still under his exploration.

“I won’t let you hide anything from me tonight, Miranda.” He dipped his head and lashed her nipple with his tongue, tugging gently until she arched beneath him. “I’m going to touch and kiss every inch of you. And you’ll have to ask me for everything you want.”

She shuddered on cue, and he smiled. Good. She was as turned on by that idea as he was. He lifted her and strode toward the bedroom, laying her gently on the bed. Gavin stripped off his T-shirt and sweats and knelt on the bed.

He clasped each of her ankles and pulled her legs wide apart. Those sexy stiletto heels only drove him on, intent on wringing as much pleasure from her body that she could take. As if his face reflected his intentions, she murmured his name in question.

Gavin grinned. “I can’t wait to make you come.”

Then he dipped his head between her thighs.

Drunk on the essence and taste of her, he teased the hardened bud and gently licked her throbbing center. She bucked and begged beneath his, but he pinned her tightly to the bed and never increased the pace. Within minutes, she screamed as the orgasm took hold. Fierce satisfaction ripped through him at her open, raw response, and he held her as she convulsed for a long moment. As she floated back down, he nipped the tender flesh and slid back up her body. Her pupils dilated and she lay limp beneath him.

He gave a low chuckle. “I love watching you come apart. Let’s do it again.”

Wariness skated over features. “Um, Gavin, I don’t think—”

“I do.” This time, he sucked on her nipples as his fingers explored her wet channel, rubbing his thumb in tight circles until she climbed back up. Soon, she stiffened beneath him, her nails digging viciously into his shoulders.

“Please.”

He thrust two fingers deep inside and pumped. “Please what?”

“Please take me. Please come inside me now, I can’t take anymore.”

His penis was so hard it hurt, so he quickly removed his fingers and reached for the condom in his bedside drawer. One rip and he sheathed himself, pausing before her entrance. “Look at me.”

She obediently opened her eyes.

“Say the words.”

Miranda shuddered but didn’t break her gaze. “I want you.”

He plunged and she took all of him. Her muscles squeezed his length as he pushed her knees up so he could bury himself deep. The silky, tight feel of her ripped a curse from his lips, and he prayed for control. As he set the pace, he watched her face.

Pleasure. Joy. Need.

He grasped her wrists and held them over her head. Her muscles clenched as she neared the edge, and he felt as if they poised upon the path of no return—trapped partly in the past, part present, the demons threatened and suddenly she fought the final fall.

Raw fear gleamed within emerald depths.

But this time he wouldn’t let her hide.

“I love you, Miranda.”

His voice echoed in the room and he tightened his grip as he thrust one final time.

She broke apart beneath him, sobbing his name, and he let himself explode. Shock waves rippled his body as the orgasm took hold. He gave it all to her, gave her everything he had and prayed he’d be enough. And as he settled back down and clasped her in his arms, he brushed against wetness.

Slowly, he tipped her chin up.

Tears streamed helplessly down her cheeks. “I love you, Gavin. I love you.”

…

Hours later, they snuck naked from the bedroom and into the kitchen. The cool tiles on her bare feet shot goose bumps over her body. “I’m starving. I’ll eat anything.” She pulled open cabinet after cabinet and found nothing. Her stomach growled loudly.

“I know. Why don’t they have 24-hour pizza delivery, dammit? Hang on.” Her lover wrestled the box from the upper cabinet. The gleam of the moonlight struck his ass, and she leaned back against the counter tops. Damn, the man had a fine package. In front and back.

He set the box in front of her with a frown. “We’re in trouble. There’s only enough for one bowl.”

“I called it first.” She grabbed, but he was always faster than her. With lightning speed, he plucked it safely back in his grasp. “Hey, no fair!”

He clucked his tongue. “I did all the work. I need more protein.”

She snorted. “This is all empty carbs and sugar. But if we’re going on that argument, then I had more orgasms. Therefore, I need more sustenance.”

“Cheap shot. Okay, you broke up with me, technically, so I was more damaged. I should get the Cocoa Puffs.”

“Hell no! You ripped my heart apart when you walked out the door. I get the Puffs.”

They both paused at the impasse. Gavin stroked his chin. “You know, since we’re in a grown-up, committed relationship right now, we should do the honorable thing.”

“What?”

“Share.”

She cocked her head and thought about it. “Okay. I can share.”

“Me, too.”

They smiled at each other like idiots, naked at midnight in his kitchen. He took down two bowls and carefully split the treat, provided the spoons, poured milk, and they both munched on their snack. A joyful lightness streamed through her body. Sharing was the best.

“I have to get back to real food tomorrow,” she commented. “Chips and ice cream do not a diet make.”

He slurped at his milk. “Me, too. I’ve drunk beer and ate pretzels for the past three days. Brando’s gonna kill me.”

“You never went to work?”

“Nope.”

Her face softened. “Andy came knocking at my door. Told me to shower.”

Gavin laughed. “We’re a pair, huh?” They ate in silence for a while until he spoke her name. “Will you tell me about those first few months after I left?” When she winced, he reached out and took her hand. “You don’t have to if it will cause you pain. I just want to know everything. Not to punish either of us. Just to understand. Does that make sense?”

Slowly, she nodded. Funny, already when she poked at the bruise, a scab began to form and it didn’t hurt as bad. “I had really bad morning sickness. Lasted all day for the first eight weeks. I tried to lean toward Irish and German food, which are a bit blander. I seemed to do well with potatoes.”

“Were you happy about having the baby?”

She nodded. “Yes. I was always scared because I was alone, but I loved him or her already.”

“Did you call anyone to help? Your mom? Grandmother? Andy?”

The memory wafted past her and the familiar hurt panged. “No. I didn’t know Andy at the time, and my grandmother was too old to bother with my problems. She ended up passing months after the miscarriage.”

He cursed and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, baby. I hate knowing you were alone.”

“I don’t feel alone anymore.”

Gavin sucked in his breath at her admission. Pressed a tender kiss against her palm. “You’ll never be alone again.” They ate their cereal in comfortable silence, until all the chocolate milk had properly been slurped up. “Tell me about your grandmother. I want to know more about her. Did she get you into cooking?”

“Yes. We were really close, and she inspired me to be a chef. She believed in making everything by hand, and we didn’t even own a microwave. Food was an art form, and I was taught about texture, flavor, herbs. She had a palette like a master.”

“She sounds just like you.”

Miranda nodded. “When I brought my dolls in for a party, we never had just tea. We had a four-course meal.” Gavin laughed. “She had bright red hair like me and a famous temper. If I stepped out of line, I paid dearly.”

“You never talk about your parents.”

A breath shuddered from her chest. He reached over and cupped his palms over her cheeks. As if he sensed something deep shift inside of her, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “You can tell me, Miranda.”

She nodded, and confessed another one of her secrets. “My mom got pregnant with me when she was a teenager. My grandmother encouraged her to have the baby and marry the father, but my dad refused and took off before I even came. He didn’t want to be married, or be tied down with a child. After my mom had me, she had a rough time with depression. She got into drugs, and spent years on the street. My grandmother raised me, and tried to get my mom help, but she didn’t want any. She disappeared, and we’ve never heard from her again.” A shrug lifted one shoulder. “I guess no one really wanted me enough.”

He pressed his forehead against hers and spoke the words against her lips. “Your grandmother wanted you and loved you.” Gavin paused. “And I want you and love you, Miranda.”

Joy shimmered in waves and crushed the last of the dark. Gavin put the bowls in the sink, wiped her mouth carefully with a napkin, and placed a kiss on her lips. She leaned into his strength and rested her head on his shoulder. This time, when he led her back to bed, their lovemaking took on a sacred tenderness that shook her soul and made her realize she’d never be the same woman again.

…

Gavin punched in the number of the code for the conference call and set up the Skype. The last thing he wanted to do was play corporate executive, but Sam insisted. The younger executive was Gavin’s right-hand man, and if Gavin succeeded, he succeeded. He was due in China soon, and the set up was key. Unfortunately, MacKenzie and Associates believed he was the only one able to target the huge electronics corporation and make their dream come true.

Dreams in the business world revolved around money. Or prestige. Or power.

Now, he’d be at the top of the food chain, amidst it all. Full partner.

So, why did the thought of leaving make him slightly ill?

The familiar pang beat through him as his colleague came over the screen.

“Tell me you’re done playing waiter and getting your ass on a plane, Gavin.”

He chuckled at the image before him. The pinstripe suit, red tie, and conservative hair cut looked the same on everyone at the firm. His hand automatically checked the length of his hair and realized he needed to get a cut. The shaggy ends looked ragged and reminded him of a surfer dude.

“My three months aren’t up, Sam. Don’t tell me you’re so intimidated you can’t take a step without me.”

His friend flashed a set of perfect white teeth. “Touché. I’m sending you some files I need you to study. Weaknesses and strengths of upper management. Some names of the lovely administrative assistants.” He waggled his brow. “Janitorial staff is pretty tight, but I found a guy who’s willing to tattle if we need leverage.”

His normal business tactics suddenly seemed…wrong. If they battled with another company, creativity for the campaign was number one. Number two was who you knew, what information you owned, and a little blackmail never hurt gaining the upper hand. Gavin shook off the wimpy inner voice causing havoc with his meeting. “Sure. I’ll look at them tonight. I need to—”

“Gavin! We got a crisis, you gotta get out here.”

He swiveled in his chair and glared at his brother. “Out, Brando. I’m on a conference call.”

“Dude, you know that new assistant chef you hired?”

“Yeah.”

“Tony found him tweaking the special behind his back. They had a fight about how to prepare it, because this guy thinks he’s a serious foodie. Tony put him in his place, but just found him changing the spices on his own. He insisted on saffron, saying it brought the fish to a higher flavor, but it’s a fucking Italian special!”

His head pounded and Gavin rubbed his temple. “Umm, okay, I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Fine. But the dude has a black eye and he called the police to press charges against Tony.”

“Fuck. I’m coming.”

“Thought so.” Brando waved to the guy on the screen and left.

Sam cackled. “You have got to be kidding me. You’re settling brawls between chefs? You’re starting to scare me, Gavin. Come on, leave early. It’ll be like the old days. The lure of a challenge, partying at the top clubs, posh hotels. I’m setting up some free time while we’re there, for touring. I know you like that.”

The world he lusted after throughout his youth now seemed tainted and old. He should be dying to get back in the game. He always hated the restaurant industry. Late nights, hard work, low profit. Crazy chefs, hard ass critics, and nothing to show for it but a plate of good food.

Then why did it feel lately like he was finally home?

“I’ll get back to you tomorrow, Sam. I can’t leave yet.”

“Your funeral, man. See ya.”

The screen went dark.

He jumped out of the chair and shot into the kitchen. Jules, the assistant chef, held a piece of raw meat on his eye. Why the hell did he use the good ribeye instead of an ice pack? Tony ranted in Italian about betrayal and codes and honor. Brando hung on to Tony’s arm, and Pop looked on the whole episode with a confused expression on his face. Ah, crap, another nightmare. What would happen when he left?

“Jules, let’s talk. No need to bring police into our business.”

“Bullshit.” The rounding out of his consonants gave him an odd accent Gavin could never place. “I am humiliated. I try to make the food better and I get a black eye. I will be throwing him into jail.”

Tony’s face reddened. “Try it. I’ll smear your reputation all over the city. You will never work again in this town!”

Yep. Tony had been watching those damn Italian movies again and was deep into his role.

Pop recovered and looked Tony in the eye. “As Sinatra would say: ‘I did what I had to do and saw it through without exemption.’ You must do it your way.”

Everyone stopped and stared at his father. Then, with a serious nod, he lapsed back into silence.

Gavin quickly grabbed Jules and walked him away, murmuring soothing phrases and swearing to fire Tony’s ass. As he spoke, he swiftly catalogued all the information he’d learned before hiring Jules. “I understand your situation. I just hope you will understand mine once the police arrive.”

The chef frowned. “What do you mean?”

Gavin sighed and lifted his hands. “You call the police. Tony goes to jail. I have no recourse but to call my lawyer. He will dig into your past and find that awful predicament you were in.”

Jules cringed. “No! You would dredge up something so painful? I had nothing to do with that girl. She was legal.”

Gavin nodded. “I know. Again, my hands are tied. It is the way the game is played, no? Lawyers are a horrible bunch.”

One beat. Two. Three.

“Forget it. I’m leaving. I want nothing to do with this restaurant.”

Gavin watched as the man untied his apron, ripped off his hat, and marched out.

His muscles sagged with relief. Another disaster averted. His father patted him on the shoulder. “Good work, son. That could have been an extremely bad scene.”

The realization socked him in the gut. His father couldn’t run this place anymore. He had no idea how to solve a crisis, other than quoting Sinatra. Brando tried but was just too young. Tony’s temper was legendary. He turned and faced his staff. “How are you going to handle these situations when I’m gone?”

The men shared a shocked look. Brando lifted his chin. “What are you talking about? I thought you decided to stay. Work with us long-term. You can’t run off when Mia Casa is just starting to turn around.”

His voice came out cold and clipped. “I can’t keep babysitting everyone. I told you up front I had twelve weeks and then I was going back. They need me.”

Tony cleared his throat. “We need you, dude. You belong here.”

His father inclined his head. “A choice must be made soon. Frank faced many in his day. We need you to seriously consider staying with us, Gavin. Promise you will at least think about the possibility.”

The words stuck in his throat. The faces in front of him reflected an open longing that tore him apart. He’d never asked for this. His intentions had always been clear, and God knows, the guilt began to choke him. “Fine. I’ll think about it. That’s all I can say for now.”

Brando stared at him for a long time. With a muttered curse, he sneered. “Don’t do us any favors, bro. We’ll be fine without you.” He turned and left the kitchen.

Gavin watched him leave with an ache in his chest he didn’t know how to deal with.

Chapter Ten

Miranda knocked on the door to his office and peeked in. Gavin slumped in the chair with a bunch of spreadsheets open on his computer. His BlackBerry lay to his right, and a laptop showed a scroll of emails flashing across the screen. Open folders spit out massive amounts of paper. She shuddered. Paperwork was a bitch.

“Gavin?”

He spun around and smiled. Like gooey caramel, she warmed and melted into a puddle. “Hey, baby. I didn’t expect you tonight.”

“I got out of the wine tasting early. I think I’m tipsy.”

He laughed and met her halfway. Dipped his head and took her mouth in a long, thorough, heated kiss. “Hmm, Merlot. Nice flavor.”

“You look swamped. I can go.”

He pressed his forehead to hers and held her. Miranda relaxed in his embrace and wondered when they’d crossed the line into the familiar. With each day that passed these past two weeks, they fell into a cozy routine. She stayed at Mia Casa to keep him company in the evenings. He accompanied her on foodie outings. He brought her lunch in the office and seduced her through the hours of darkness. “Don’t go. I need to get a leap up on this deal, but I’m burnt.”

Her muscles stiffened but she kept her voice casual. “Work for MacKenzie & Associates?”

He seemed about to tell her something important, then closed his mouth. “Yeah.”

The inner voice in her head screamed in warning. His job would never be stable or home-based. He planned to get Mia Casa on its feet and leave all of them. Yes, he loved her. Yes, he probably had a plan to get her to accompany him, or deal with a long-distance relationship. Nausea tickled her stomach. She didn’t want either. Even worse, she was afraid he loved the excitement too much to ever give it up. The ticking clock was the huge pink flamingo in the room they both stepped around. Soon, they’d both have to admit it was there.

But not now.

She stroked back his hair. The strands curled around her fingers like raw silk. “Let’s not talk about that now. I have an idea. Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Out.”

He hesitated. “Brando will kill me. We had a crisis today and he’s still freaked out. I have to study the janitorial staff for this new deal. Yell at the fish guy for the crap he gave me yesterday. Other stuff, too.”

She cocked her head. “Interesting. Don’t be a wimp. We’ll sneak out.” Miranda peered down the hallway and gripped his fingers. “No one will ever know you’re not in there.”

They tiptoed out and tore down the back alley. His laughter rung in her ears. The frosty air nipped at her nose and her boots crunched on black, leftover snow. The city was dirty, feisty and full of life, even late at night. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. Within moments, those talented fingers roamed over the curve of her buttocks. “You have a thing for doing it in public?”

He looked offended. “I didn’t take my jacket. I need the warmth.”

Miranda decided the least she could do was not let him freeze.

They walked fast and in companionable silence until they reached Central Park. The crowds thinned in the frigid temperatures after the holidays, and by the time they arrived at their destination, no one was there.

He looked up at Wollman Rink. “No way. We’re going ice skating?”

“Yes. You need some exercise, fresh air, and to clear your head. Let’s go.”

He dragged his feet through the process, but in a matter of minutes, they’d rented their skates, laced them up, and entered the ice. Gavin paused with one blade halfway down. “I don’t know about this.”

“You loved ice skating when you were younger.”

Surprise flickered across his features. “You remember that?”

“Of course.” Still, he didn’t move. Almost as if he was afraid of touching something he loved when he was young. Almost as if he wasn’t worthy to remember. “I’m doing this for your own good.”

She pushed him.

He stumbled, caught himself, dipped halfway, and found his balance. She tamped down a giggle and joined him on the ice.

Miranda learned to ice skate as soon as she decided New York City was the place for her to settle down. She used to watch the families and children skate around the big Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center, and longed to join them. Huddled on the sidelines, one day she put on skates and never looked back.

She loved the slick slide of the blades over the ice. The wind on her face and the odd sense of freedom she achieved by gliding round and round. Miranda did a few laps, then skidded by his side. “How are you doing?”

He glowered and clung to the wall. “This is stupid. I’m stressed out. I can’t skate anymore.”

“Yes, you can. It’s like riding a bike.”

“I sucked at that, too.”

Frustration beat from him in waves. She knew Gavin was a perfectionist, and hated to fail. “Let go of the railing. Trust yourself.”

“I trust myself. I just don’t trust the ice.”

She bit her lip and tried hard not to laugh. He was adorable. Brow crinkled. Blue eyes snapping with impatience. Concentration carving out his features. Miranda glanced around at the mostly empty rink. A few stragglers huddled by the far wall, talking and not skating.

She moved backward and did a fancy spin to show off. “Maybe you need a bit of motivation.”

“What type of motivation?” he grumbled.

“Me. You. Later.”

His head snapped up. “How so?”

She tapped her finger against her chin. “Hmm. How about naked Sundays?”

“Huh?”

“We planned on sleeping in this Sunday. Cooking, reading the paper, lying low. If you catch me, I’ll do it all naked.”

She swung her hips back and forth in sensual rhythm and did a quick half turn. “What do you think?”

He cleared his throat and looked down at his feet. Back up. “What if I can’t catch you?”

She pulled a sad face. “My ratty flannels come out and don’t come off.”

“I’ll give you a head start.”

Miranda shrieked as he pushed off from the wall. She sped up, but in moments his awkward pacing smoothed out and those powerful legs ate up the space between them. Her heart thundered as she whipped around the bend, peeking behind her.

Determination pulsed in waves, along with a hunger that made her belly drop. Hell, she couldn’t do naked Sundays. How embarrassing.

He gained on her and she leaned forward for more speed. The wind ripped at her hair and her nose grew drippy and she skated like her ass was on fire.

His fingers closed on her wrist. One quick tug caught her off balance and she prepared for a graceless fall. The air whooshed past and she tumbled on a hard, muscled chest. With one last whirl across the ice, they skidded to a stop in a tangle of limbs.

She looked up. He grinned. “You’re right. With the proper motivation, I can skate.”

Miranda wiped at her nose and scowled. “You tricked me. I thought I was helping.”

“You did. Sunday can’t come fast enough. I feel better now.”

“I don’t.” She scrambled to her feet and he interlaced his fingers with hers. He led her back on the ice and they glided in silence, limbs in sync, under a shiny half-moon in the middle of winter.

“Miranda?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” He dragged in a lungful of chilled air and lifted his face to the sky. She smiled. A deep peace settled over the rink and lodged in her heart to stay. Time was running out and a decision needed to be made. They became experts in ignoring the obvious, choosing to drown in each other’s body and mind and seize the moment. The inevitable discussion loomed before them. Would Gavin stay to run the restaurant and sacrifice his career? Or would she be able to uproot herself and travel with him, hoping desperately not to lose her soul along the way?

Gloom threatened, but she clasped Gavin’s hand and held on tight. Not today. Not now. For a little while, everything was perfect, under the gleaming moon and the frost-tinted air and the lights of the rink.

They spent the next half hour skating.

…

Gavin exited the supply room with a satisfied grin. After a spirited discussion with his pastry guy, he’d chopped away the cost by some serious poker playing. Adrenalin spiked through his bloodstream. Nothing pumped him up as much as getting a deal, especially when Mia Casa profited. Funny, he prided himself on grinding down his opponents, but this time it seemed less for him than it was for his family. Wringing out another dollar for McKenzie & Associates didn’t give him the same zing.

He stopped at the bar and watched his lady walk over. The swing of her hips accented the fire of her hair and melted his brain. Damn, she was hot. He kissed her slow and deep. “Hey, baby. I got lunch lined up for you.”

“Nice. I always enjoy Tony’s special treats.” She sat on the bar stool and greeted Dominick. “I’m having a hell of a day and hoping it’ll get better.”

“Poor baby. Maybe some—what’s the matter?”

She stiffened beside him. “I can’t believe she had the nerve to show up.”

Her eyes shot sparks of fury at the petite woman across the room. Gavin blinked and directed his attention to her table. Legs crossed neatly under the table, she perused the menu and sipped at the ice water, looking like the normal executive on her lunch hour. Her navy blue suit, pearls and pumps pegged her as a conservative businesswoman. If the woman was all boobs and flash, he’d understand better.

“Who is she?” he asked.

She practically spit the name out. “Allison Wheaton. The food critic from The Gazette. You know, her column, Allison Speaks.”

Recognition dawned. Then worry. “Holy crap, is she doing a review? I have to let Tony know.”

Miranda shook her head. “No, I doubt it. She likes to eat at the restaurants I’ve written about. I found her staking this place out during your opening night for the lounge.”

“Like a groupie?”

She huffed out a breath. “No, more like a stalker. She’s been pissed at me since my editor named my column Miranda Eats. She thinks I stole her tagline and wanted to humiliate her. Always states The Gazette has been around longer than us, and we’re a poor carbon copy. She despises the media attention I’ve received, and we’ve been battling ever since.”

He stared at the critic in fascination. Who would’ve known the food industry had its ruthlessness? Sure, he knew about epic chefs and restaurant wars, but critics? He decided not to let Miranda see the humor of the situation, since she seemed about to go all Mafia on him. “Why don’t you go, sweetheart? Come by for dinner later on, and I’ll be able to get off a bit early. We can take in a movie.”

Her gaze never broke away from the woman’s back. “Hell, no. I’m staying right here until I know what she orders. She stole my plum review of La Saveur and my feature in Gourmet magazine. What if she’s discovered we’re together and wants to hurt Mia Casa? I’ll kill her.”

He clamped his lips together. “Umm, okay, then. I guess it’s to the mattresses.”

“Huh?”

Why didn’t any woman ever appreciate the sheer genius of The Godfather? “Never mind. Brando’s covering, so I’ll make sure you get the details.”

“Thanks.”

He shook his head as he headed toward the kitchen. He called over Anthony and Brando quickly. “We got a food critic at table four.” Gavin held up his hands. “I don’t want any panic or strange behavior. Miranda just tipped me off and says she’s not here for a formal review. But I don’t want any screw-ups just in case. Capisce?”

They both nodded but didn’t move.

Anthony twisted his apron. “What do we do now?” he whispered.

“Cook, Tony. Take her order, Brando. Get it together, guys!”

They burst back into movement and he double-checked the specials to make sure there’d be no surprises this time. He walked back out and motioned for Dominick to get Miranda a glass of Pinot Grigio to calm her nerves. She hadn’t moved yet from her spying position. “Any updates?”

“Nope. She hasn’t made any calls and just sips at her water. Vegan.”

He drew back. His lady was pretty much one of the sweetest, most forgiving on the planet. This was quite serious. In moments, Brando rushed over. “Miranda, she ordered fettuccine carbonara, meatballs, the house salad with Italian dressing, and a side order of broccoli rabe.”

Gavin winced. Ever since that night, he’d longed to take it off the menu, but Pop refused.

Miranda shot up. “That’s the same food I ordered when I wrote my review! What is she up to? I’ve had enough of this crap.”

Brando’s mouth fell open. Gavin watched as his normally serene lover stalked over to table four, dragged out the opposite chair, and plopped down on the seat. Brando looked at him. “What should we do?

“I’ll take care of it. Just put in her order.” He walked over to the table and interrupted a fierce staring contest. The air sparked with tension and some other element. Something purely feminine. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me, I’d like to introduce myself. I’m Gavin, and I’m the owner of Mia Casa. I wanted to welcome you today, and check if you needed anything.”

The lady smiled up with a predator-like smile that scared the crap out of him. Oh yeah, this was one straight from the movies—cold to the bone. She gave a brief nod. “A pleasure to meet you, Gavin. I’m looking forward to my lunch before I return to the office.”

Miranda leaned forward. “What are you doing here, Allison? First the lounge, now lunch. Don’t you have a snobby French place to review?”

The woman snorted. “Maybe I’m just wondering what’s so fascinating about reviewing spaghetti and meatballs, Miranda eats. Your readership must be slipping.”

Whoa. Miranda pushed up out of her chair, back ramrod-straight. “Just trying to compete with the educational, inspiring review of the gyro from your review last month.” The sweetness of her smile flashed pure malice. “Take-out Greek must be the new rage. Or so says the truck on the corner of 8th Avenue.”

Allison gasped. Gavin looked back and forth between them, as if watching Wimbledon and refusing to miss a serve. “Umm, ladies, may I get you a glass of wine on the house?”

They ignored him.

“You know how I like to encompass all food genres. All classes of people. Your work is so one-dimensional. Perhaps that’s why I’ve been invited to review Americanize Steak House before the grand opening.” Allison licked her lips in triumph. “I guess he’ll be calling to cancel your invitation.”

Miranda gasped. “I was supposed to do a column on his opening and you know it! We set this up months ago.” Her body shook. “What did you do to pull this coup off?”

Allison drew her lips back in a sneer. “It’s called talent. But I’m sure you could trade sexual favors to bump you back up the list.”

Gavin jerked back. Holy shit, were women allowed to trade insults like that? Miranda jumped up from the table, and suddenly Allison was in her face. One glance around the room showed the men in his family completely entranced with the idea of a cat fight. Ah, hell, no one was breaking this up unless he stepped in.

“How dare you? I don’t need to mix business with pleasure like you do. Favorably reviewing all of your boyfriend’s restaurants is despicable. My career comes first, and I respect the public.”

“Umm, Miranda, maybe we should get some air?” He grasped her shoulder to ease her back, but she shook him off like a prized fighter.

“I bet you’d sell out your career for a cheap lay.” Allison sniffed and looked down at her. “I’ve been in the business much longer than you. It’s a proven fact in the industry. Mix criticism with pleasure and you have a disaster.”

A stillness came over his lover and his gut clenched. Uh-oh. Something big was going down, and he had a bad feeling. A triumphant expression crossed Miranda’s face. He didn’t have a moment to process the result.

“Maybe you don’t take your career as seriously as I do. You see, Gavin is both the owner of Mia Casa and my lover. I wrote the review while we were dating.”

With one quick movement, she grasped his head and pulled his mouth down to hers. He heard the whoosh of his own breath at the openly carnal, open-mouth kiss, the gasp of Allison, and the laughter of the crowd. With a huge wet smack, she released him, and gave her enemy a brilliant smile.

Allison stared at them both. “Impossible. You trashed your own lover’s restaurant?”

Miranda beamed. “Damn straight, I did. I’m hardcore. Don’t forget it, Allison.”

With a saucy grin, she walked out the door.

Point, set, and match to Miranda.

Score.

Yeah, he loved the hell out of that woman. Now he had to find a way to keep her, save the restaurant, and get his partnership. He was due to hear back from his boss by the end of the week, and he hoped to God he wasn’t out of time.

…

Gavin sat in his office and studied the spreadsheets. A slight throb at the back of his neck warned him a headache was on the way. He rubbed his temples and tried to concentrate. His future lay before him in all its former glory, and suddenly instead of the yellow brick road, it looked more like the road to Perdition.

He clicked the mouse and brought up the email. His boss was quite clear in his intentions. Gavin’s time was officially expired. He was due in China by the end of the week. The airline tickets attached slammed him back into reality. If he did his job, he’d finally get his partnership.

A partnership he didn’t even know if he wanted anymore.

Everything seemed to have changed this past year. In a cutthroat world where profit and flexibility for travel meant success, he’d carved out a name for himself and a reputation that preceded him. He’d been proud of the accomplishment, but after walking into his fourth meeting of the day, he realized he’d reached thirty years old and lived on antacids and caffeine. Burn-out flickered at the edges of his life. He lived in conference rooms and out of suitcases and briefcases. He’d been in Rome and never viewed the Coliseum. Lived in London for two weeks and couldn’t say what the Queen’s residence looked like. Life passed him by, and thoughts of what he gave up with Miranda tortured him.

Before his father called, he’d taken a long vacation and traveled for pleasure. For knowledge. For self-actualization. He studied self-help books and got hooked on the mastery of ancient yogis who reached enlightenment and had nothing in their pocket. When he reached India, something clicked deep inside. Finally, he found the truth. Peace was all from the inside, and had nothing to do with how many accounts can be closed in so little time.

Yet, with his own making, he’d trapped himself. Cloaked in a surface life of travel and profit, he had no idea how to step off the endless hamster wheel. When Pop called him to save Mia Casa, the missing puzzle piece clicked into place. For the first time, he felt like he’d found home. With Miranda back in his arms, he’d finally found love.

But was it too late? He’d be in China for three months. His family accepted his help, but he no longer belonged to the restaurant world, and would never yank that from his brother’s grasp. Lately, Brando had worked hard to become more responsible. Hell, he’d been covering his own ass with all the evenings he missed trying to forge a relationship with Miranda. No, his brother deserved the restaurant. Gavin made the choice years ago to walk away.

It had just been the wrong choice.

A knock sounded on the door and his father stepped in. “Tony says he doesn’t have enough tomatoes.”

Gavin grasped for patience. “Pop, there’s plenty there. Remember, you have to look at the inventory chart. Here, I’ll show you on the computer.”

Archimedes snorted in sheer disgust. “I do not like these fancy new programs. Too many colors. Too small print. Makes my eyes hurt.”

“You have to learn it. I’ll be leaving soon.”

“Ah, you are going back, huh?”

Temper and guilt nipped at his nerves. “I don’t have a choice, Pop. I only took a leave of absence to help. We’re going to be okay. I’ve been showing Brando the ropes, and I’m hiring a general business manager to run the day-to-day. I’m also increasing the wait staff and getting Tony a new assistant chef from the Culinary. Marketing is paid up for the next year.”

Archimedes nodded and slowly lowered himself into the battered chair across from the desk. “All of the loose ends are neatly tied up, yes? You have poured much money into Mia Casa. We all have a role here. I guess this one was yours.”

His words ripped like a bullet and shredded flesh. Gavin leaned forward and drilled his father with his gaze. “Are we going to have one of these conversations again? When you tell me one thing but you really mean another? Just say it, Pop. I’ve disappointed you. I chose a different career than the family restaurant and you’ll never truly forgive me. Why don’t we just get it out there for once?”

All the surface niceties splintered beneath his father’s knowing gaze and it only made Gavin more pissed off. Pop studied him, and suddenly he was back in his youth. “You are wrong, Giovanni. You always have been. I will always support my children going after their dreams, as long as this makes them happy. You cannot run a restaurant with just money. You must love what you do and be passionate. Then it will be successful.”

“Bullshit. A restaurant needs money. It had you and Brando, while I was overseas and Mia Casa almost went bankrupt. So, how does heart play into it, Pop?”

“We needed you, Giovanni.”

He jerked back. “What did you say?”

His father smiled. “You are not happy any longer at your company. I heard this in your voice on the phone. I see it here every day. You lost yourself, but found your home again. Do you know the joy I see in you when you greet the customers or help Tony in the kitchen? You are a part of this place—in the brick and mortar—but you’ve just been afraid to admit it. Mia Casa is your home and your passion. You just needed to leave it in order to find it again.”

The room swayed under the gentle knowledge in his father’s eyes. He shook his head hard. “No, I lost my chance. This place belongs to Brando. It’s his inheritance now.”

“I have already spoken to Brando. He wants to go to college with Tracey. He needs to complete his degree, and then he will come back as well. You will run it together, as brothers. This has always been my goal.” Archimedes sighed and opened his hands in front of him. “You are so stubborn. Like your mama. Yes, your money helped put us back on course. But without you, its reputation will falter. Someone who has no love or stake in a place that makes food will never make a success. Brando is too young, and I am too old. This is your time, Giovanni. If you stay.”

“What if I fail? What if I leave a top-paying job, where I make sense, and find I’m not able to take Mia Casa to the next level?”

Archimedes shrugged. “Sinatra failed many times in his career. Then he got his big break in From Here to Eternity, but he wasn’t afraid to try. You must go after what you want, my son. And what about Miranda? Where does she fit into all of this? Are you ready to leave her?”

“I was going to take her with me. I think I can convince her. I love her, Pop. I don’t want to let her go.”

His father stripped away the last standing barrier, leaving him raw and naked. “Have you not learned? You left her, Giovanni. Forcing her to give up her home and career to follow you across the world gives her nothing. It is an easy decision for you. You lose nothing. You give nothing. Capisce?”

“No.”

Archimedes sighed. “As Sinatra sang in The Joker Is Wild, you must take a full risk. She must know you are willing to give all to love. All The Way. It is time to make a choice. No more half decisions or half commitments. Miranda Storme is worth more than that. She deserves a future, with bambinos and a man she can count on. What will happen after China? There will be another contract, and another trip. She will never know if she is enough.”

Gavin rubbed his forehead and tried to make sense of the sudden turn of events. His world tilted, then tipped over. The thought of waking up and running Mia Casa no longer made him shudder with the fear of containment.

He shuddered with longing.

A bone-deep knowledge pierced through the fog and exploded in his vision. He wanted to stay. He wanted to run Mia Casa, and deal with the family chaos and the chefs and the pain-in-the-ass customers. He wanted to build a life here.

And he wanted Miranda. He wanted to fight with her. Make up. Make love. Have babies. Grow old. And in his next life, he wanted to do it all over again. With her.

Dear God, he’d been a complete ass. Pop was right. He’d craved redemption from his prior actions, but never left his comfort zone. He threw money at the restaurant and figured it’d be enough. He threw out the deal for her to accompany him overseas like she should be grateful. Meanwhile, he gave nothing back. How easy. How pathetic.

Clarity slammed through him and shook his core. The whole time he urged Miranda to leave her fear behind and take a leap had been a big joke. It was he who needed to jump. Away from his past choices. Toward his real dream and future.

“Do you understand now, Giovanni? What I’ve been telling you?”

He opened his mouth but a knot of emotion lodged in his throat. He nodded.

Archimedes smiled. “It is your decision. You may go back. Or stay.”

Gavin sat for a while in silence. “Dad? What would Frank do?”

His father boomed out a laugh. “I think you know the answer to that.”

The decision had been made long ago, maybe the first time he’d laid eyes on his only love weeks ago. He’d just been too stubborn to accept the truth. “I’m staying, Pop. I’m going to buy a ring, ask Miranda to marry me, be a model for Brando, and make a success out of Mia Casa. For me. For all of us.”

Moisture swam in his father’s eyes. He inclined his head with an elegant grace. “A worthy decision, my son. Now go.”

“Thanks. I love you, Pop.”

He grabbed his keys off the desk and shot out the door.

…

“Hey Tony. Where’s Gavin?”

Miranda greeted the chef who was prepping for the lunch crowd. He wiped the sweat off his brow with his forearm and motioned toward the back. “Last time I saw him he was crunching numbers in the office.”

“Thanks.”

She made her way to his private office in the back. She quickly knocked on the door and pushed it open. “Gavin?”

Brando sat in the chair, staring at the computer screen. Slowly, he turned to face her. The devastation in his eyes slammed through her and she quickly moved forward. “Brando, are you okay? Did you and Tracey break up?”

“How could he do it again, Miranda?”

“Do what?”

He lifted his hands up in the air in true Italian style. “Leave us. Pop offered him a deal to stay here and run Mia Casa. I thought he’d changed. I thought he wanted—” A tirade of swear words peppered the room. “Doesn’t matter. The proof is here. Airline tickets to China leaving the end of the week. This will break Pop’s heart.”

Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Dread slithered and pumped through her blood like venom, except this time she wished she’d die a quicker death. He may love her. But not enough. Deep inside, he couldn’t fight the man he was. He’d never be able to settle down and run a family restaurant. He was meant for bigger things—travel, wealth, million-dollar deals.

Oh, she knew he’d ask her to go. Saying no would rip a part of her away she’d never regain. But chasing him around the world was not her Fate. Wondering when he’d had enough would eventually kill her. She wanted to put down deep roots and flower, with a heart full of trust for the man she loved.

He never lied. Never pretended he’d stay, just said simply he’d never abandon her. And he kept his promise. She had no one to blame but herself for hoping for more. The fairytale. The confession that he couldn’t leave, that he wanted to marry her and spend eternity here. That she was enough.

She was never enough.

The grief in his brother’s eyes broke her heart all over again. She knelt before him and took his hands. “We can’t make him stay.”

He sputtered. “Yes, we can. We’ll have a family meeting. This time, I’ll make him choose—us, or his lust to make a name for himself. We haven’t come this far to throw it all away now.”

She shook her head. “You’re wrong, Brando. If he has a need to travel and see other places, we’ll never be able to keep him. All you’ll have is a shell of a man who hates his life. Neither of us want that anymore, do we?”

Brando squeezed her hands. “You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve him.”

She sputtered out a half laugh. Oh, God, it hurt so bad. Her whole body ached, and she craved the ability to crawl under a blanket and refuse to move until she healed. But this time, it was on her terms, and her choice. She needed to be strong for both of them. Her voice shook. “Don’t say that. He’s a good man. He came back to make things right with you, with me. He admitted his weaknesses, and that’s what a strong man does. You can’t choose who you love.” She dragged in a breath. “Don’t tell him I know, Brando. Promise me. I want him to be the one to tell me.”

After a few moments, he nodded. “Okay.”

“Thanks. I gotta go.” She stumbled out the door as her reality broke into jagged pieces like a shattered mirror. Her feet hit the pavement as she walked block after block, the chilly city air hitting her face and burning her ears. She walked and thought of her options, raging against the unfairness of starting over. Of getting over him for the second time. Of letting him go without hate or fear or rage. This time, it would be different. She was different.

The possibilities sifted before her until she realized what she had to do. Something that would set him free. Something that might ruin what she worked so hard to build, but the gift was worth it. For the man she loved. For the man she had to let go.

Miranda made her decision and walked back to her office.

…

“Hey baby, everything all right?” Gavin held the phone tucked by his ear as he scrolled through the inventory lists. He’d been caught working late again, and after a hell of day, realized she never stopped by for dinner. His few texts weren’t answered. Just as he started to panic, she emailed him that she had a work function and would call him later. His relief was a complete embarrassment. As Brando now reminded him daily, he was completely whipped.

And loving every moment.

He picked up the velvet jewelers case and snapped open the lid. The perfect two-carat marquise diamond shimmered with an icy heat. He imagined it blinking on her finger. Imagined the moment he slipped it on and claimed her forever. Imagined her face when she uttered yes.

“I’m fine. Cocktails ran late, and I’m so tired I decided to have an early night.”

Her voice came out husky, yet subdued, and a strange flutter hit his gut. Almost like worry. But he pushed it aside and decided he needed to grow some balls. “Want some company? I can be there in an hour.”

He waited for her laugh or naughty phone sex breathing, but she hesitated. “Not tonight, Gavin. I hope that’s okay. I just need to sleep.”

He pushed away the hurt and told himself it was good for them to spend a night apart. “Sure, I understand. I do want to talk to you about something important. Can we have a quiet dinner tomorrow night around seven? I’ll take a few hours off.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

He shuffled some papers. “I don’t want to get into it right now. It’ll be better in person. No worries, though. Everything’s great.”

He winced at the weakness of the word. I want to propose to you and I’m scared shitless. Yeah, just great.

“Okay.”

A twitch ran down his spine. Something was off, but he didn’t know if he should push tonight or wait until tomorrow. Maybe she was exhausted and needed rest. God knows he’d kept her up the last few nights with extracurricular activities. “I love you. Get some sleep, baby.”

Her voice seemed to break on her final words. “I love you, too, Gavin. I always have.”

The phone clicked.

He rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the phone. Her declaration had a terrible foreboding trapped within the words, almost as if she was saying good-bye.

Gavin shook off the worry and re-focused on his spreadsheet. He had inventory problems, and he needed to solve them tonight. He reached for his mug of strong coffee and got back to work.

Chapter Eleven

Gavin lifted the crate and slammed it on the supply shelf. He wiped the sweat off his brow and prayed for a shower. He’d need to do some major scrubbing before his date, or she’d never say yes. A silly grin pulled at his lips at the thought of the evening ahead.

“Hey Gavin, you got a delivery.”

He looked up as his father handed him a flat brown envelope marked Priority Mail. “Hmm, doesn’t look like the Publisher’s Clearing House sweepstakes I sent in. I had a dream last night that Ryan Seacrest knocked on my door with a bunch of roses. We ended up opening a chain of restaurants throughout Manhattan.”

“I didn’t know the American Idol man did the sweepstakes now?”

His lip quirked. “Ed McMahon passed on, Pop. Even Dick Clark. I think Ryan is the new substitute.”

Archimedes shook his head in sorrow. “A shame. I guess hope must run in the family. You mother told me I woke up yelling when my horse won at the track. Odds were fifty to one.”

He smiled and ripped open the envelope. “Did you build more restaurants?”

“No. I took your mother to Tahiti and kept the money a secret from my children.”

“Now I know the signs to look for. I guess—” he trailed off and stared at the paper in front of him.

“What’s the matter?”

A dull roaring echoed in his ears. The words leapt at him in stark black-and-white, and read worse than an obituary. An icy trickle of fear ran down his spine.

The clipping was from the new HotSpot feature in Foodie magazine. The caption screamed: Mia Casa Rocks The House

He skimmed the page. With her usual sparkling wit, Miranda Storme admitted to her reading public she’d been dragged back into the restaurant by a friend, and had been astonished at how different the menu was. After several more unscheduled visits, she decided to break her cardinal rule. She described the new decor and menu, mentioned the lounge, and raved about the hardworking staff. She hailed it as one of the best finds in the city.

Then she rated it four stars.

“Gavin?”

He blinked and met his father’s concerned gaze. “She did the second review.”

Gray brows slammed together in a frown. Archimedes reached for the clipping. “You told me she’d never do it.” He glanced over the words. “Mama mia, we got the highest rating.” He threw his hands out and laughed. “You did it! After this review, we’ll have bigger crowds. Wait till I tell your mother about—”

“No.” He snatched the paper back. “Something’s not right, Pop. She’d never do this without telling me.”

“Do what?” Tony strolled in and Archimedes turned.

“Miranda did the second review. We got four stars!”

Tony threw his head back and gave a whoop. “Alleluia! My cooking held up, after all! We need to celebrate. Let’s have a brand new special. Can we frame it? Let me see!”

Gavin fought panic and dodged out of his chef’s way. “No, Tony, I’m telling you, something’s off about this. She swore she’d never do the second review.”

“You changed her mind, dude! Someone uncork the champagne.”

Brando poked his head in the stockroom. “What’s going on in here? I’m stuck handling set-up, and Tracey needs me to pick her up in an hour. Can you stop screwing around and get out here to help?”

“Miranda did the second review,” Archimedes announced.

Brando straightened and frowned. “No way.”

“Look.” Tony grabbed the clipping and thrust it into Brando’s hands. “Four stars!”

“Holy shit.” His brother shook his head. “I don’t understand it. Even after what she found out, she still gave you the review? How’d you do it?”

“What do you mean, Brando? After what she found out?”

Brando jerked back and winced. “Oops. Wasn’t supposed to mention it until you told her.” His dark eyes glimmered. “Guess even family and the woman you love aren’t enough for you, huh Gavin? You still need more money and power to make you happy. Well, go. Good riddance.”

A terrible foreboding washed over him. His vision blurred, and suddenly he was in front of his brother, shaking him hard. “What did you tell her? What happened?”

“I found your airline tickets for China. I know you’re leaving end of the week, even after what Pop told you we discussed. I was willing to forgive you, Gavin! Let you stay and run Mia Casa. But no one is enough for you.”

“Zitto!” Archimedes marched over and pulled Gavin off. “Brando, how could you do this? You misunderstood.”

Brando glared. “No, I didn’t Pop. I saw the email. Miranda walked in and I told her Gavin was leaving. She hoped he’d stay with us, but money proved what was most important.”

Gavin leaned over and tried not to be sick. Holy crap, she thought he was leaving her again. He replayed their conversation last night. The way she acted strange. The words he said about having a serious talk at dinner. She believed their time was up, and he’d gracefully exit once again, just like he had three years ago.

“Brando, you have done a terrible thing. I spoke with your brother and he is staying.”

Brando glanced at him in astonishment. “What? But I saw—I saw—”

Gavin straightened up and looked his brother in the eye. “Yes, they sent me the tickets. Yes, I’m supposed to go to China. But I quit, Brando. I’m staying here and running Mia Casa.” He reached with trembling fingers into his pocket and pulled out the jeweler’s case. “And I planned on asking Miranda to marry me. Tonight.”

Silence descended.

Brando moaned. “Ah, shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. You want me to go talk to her? I’ll explain I screwed up.”

Gavin shook his head. “No, I have to find her. This review is a sign. If I let this run, she’ll screw up her job and always think it was about the restaurant. I need her to know this is only about her and me. I have to stop this thing from running.”

“How can we help?” Archimedes asked.

“Just cover for me. I’m going to find her.” He ripped the envelope from his brother’s hand and tore out. He sensed she wouldn’t be at the paper, but hiding at home. It was a short drive to her apartment. After a few moments of knocking without an answer, he slipped his key in the lock and stepped inside.

Everything was neatly in place. Magazines stacked. Furniture bare. He walked through the rooms and tried to shake off the feeling of abandonment that vibrated in the air. Slowly, as if sensing what he’d find, he entered the bedroom.

The bed was made. The sun trickled through the window and made shadowy patterns against the lace blanket. A crisp white sheet of paper was propped up against the plumpest pillow. Gavin didn’t have to look in the closet to confirm most of her clothes were gone. He didn’t have to tear through her bathroom to know she’d taken all of the essentials, packed them in a bag, and left.

He picked up the note. His fingers trembled.

My dearest Gavin,

Please don’t try to find me. By now you’ll know that I’ve left, and probably received the piece that will run in tomorrow’s edition. I know you’ll be leaving for China, and I don’t blame you for your choice. You were there for your family in their time of need. You were even able to give me the closure I so desperately needed, and I don’t regret the time we spent together.

By allowing myself to love you again, I’ve made peace with the past, and even released myself from some very old demons. But I can’t go with you. I need to get on with my life. I’m not a woman who can wait at home for you to return, or follow you as you chase your dreams. I need more, and you need the freedom in your soul you crave.

I’ll always remember the time we spent together, and perhaps one day, in another time and place, we will meet again. Perhaps that will be our karma.

Miranda

He read the note three times. Carefully, he folded it and slipped the paper into his jacket. Emptiness and pain ripped at his insides, but with a deliberate calm, he forced the emotions in check.

He glanced at the bedroom one last time and walked out.

…

“Where is she?”

Andy groaned and dropped his forehead to the desk. “I knew this would happen! Dammit, just because you supply the newsroom with pastries doesn’t give you the right to tear into our cubicles. I don’t know where she is.”

“You’re lying.” Gavin waited for him to lift his head and leaned in. Anger and frustration shot off him in waves, and he ground his teeth together to keep from punching something. He regretted the ruthlessness he needed to rely on, but right now his life depended on it. “Don’t play games with me, Andy. Her editor told me she took a leave of absence. I can’t get a hold of anyone at Foodie magazine that will talk to me. You’re the only one she confides in, and I want to know now.”

Andy tapped the pen against his desk in a nervous gesture. “You’re giving me too much credit. She called and let me know she’s going away for a while. When I asked her why, she said it’s better if I didn’t know. I asked for how long, and she said it depended. So much for close friendship.”

Gavin studied the man’s features with hard eyes. “Ah, so she didn’t tell you about the other woman?”

“Other woman?” A frown creased his brow. “I thought you were dumping her again to leave for China?”

“Right. But you don’t know anything, do you, Andy?”

“Aww, shit.” Andy looked disgusted. “Okay, so she told me a little. Why don’t you just let her get on with her life instead of torturing her?”

“I’m not going to China, Andy. I quit. I’m staying, and I planned to ask her to marry me tonight.”

Andy threw the pen on the desk and groaned. “Why do I always get dragged into this stuff? She warned me, you know. Told me not to buy into your macho bonding crap and stay strong. Said if I breathed a word to you about her she’d cut off my balls. Gavin, she wasn’t kidding. Don’t mess with a woman who’s pissed off and is good friends with your wife.”

A ghost of a smile passed Gavin’s lips. “I don’t care, I need some help here. I need to stop that review, then find her.”

“Sorry, I’m only Lifestyle and Health. Susan’s her friend who got her the gig at Foodie magazine, though. Maybe she could help?”

“Get her on the phone.”

“Pushy, huh?” Andy grumbled but scrolled through his contacts. After a few conversations, he handed him the phone.

It took Gavin a while to convince Susan the planet would fall apart if that Hotspot Feature went to press. Finally, he secured a deal and hung up the phone.

“What did she say?”

“She needs a replacement column right now.”

“Oh. I don’t know where Miranda keeps her reviews.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re writing another column. Right now.”

Andy’s mouth dropped open. “You’re nuts. I can’t whip up a review. I’m Lifestyle and Health.”

“So you keep saying. You and Elaine eat out a lot. You accompany Miranda. I want you to write something now, Andy, and email it to Susan in the next half hour.”

Andy moaned. “This is a nightmare. Why do these things happen to me? Why do I always get involved?”

“Because you’re one of the good guys.”

“Sounds like a bad western.” He paused. “Even if I can pull this off, you still don’t know where she is.”

“I know people. I’ll find her.” He turned to stride away, then glanced back. “I’ll confirm you sent the article to Susan in a bit. And Andy? If you don’t help me, you’ll have to live with the knowledge you broke up a perfect relationship.”

“Perfect? You two never had a perfect relationship. I don’t need this kind of pressure. See, this is what happens when a person tries to help out a friend. I get dragged into a lover’s mess, and I’m the one who gets blamed if it doesn’t work out. Is this fair? Gavin, are you listening to me?”

Gavin hid a grin as Andy’s voice echoed down the corridor.

…

Miranda lifted her face toward the sun and allowed the warm rays to pour over her in a lover’s caress. She sighed with pleasure and let her gaze sweep the jagged mountain peaks that lay in the distance. The scent of wood and damp earth rose to her nostrils, and she enjoyed the crunch under her feet as she walked up the twisting pathway toward the cabin.

A bird cried out. She smiled as the sound echoed through the trees and once again felt a deep sense of peace and healing. Funny, she’d never been able to settle here without bad memories of her lost parents. Her grandmother used to drag her away from the city during the summers in an effort to get her away from the riffraff. Fresh country air and home cooking, she used to admonish. As a child, she craved the excitement of others, and not a cabin where the nearest mall was miles away. After her grandmother passed, it hurt too much to stay here, with memories of the only parent she’d known drifting in the air.

But now, she only experienced a knowledge that she belonged here. Miranda ran her fingers down the bark of an old oak tree. Sadness tugged at her belly and brought a familiar wave of longing. Only a week. Seven days. In a way, it felt like an entire lifetime since she’d last seen him. Touched him. Laughed with him.

She tilted her head toward the sky and imagined him flying to China, off on a new adventure. When she’d first met him, she’d been an impulsive child-woman, hungry for passion and afraid of love. After he left, she’d ruthlessly cut out those qualities and believed they were a sign of weakness. But the walls she built locked out all emotion, until the iciness closed off any feelings left.

This time, she allowed herself to experience the pain without running away. This time, she allowed herself to see the entire relationship without blinders, without rage, without blame.

She remembered the book she picked up last night in an effort to ease the hurt. The author stated there were three lessons in life, the three things that matter the most. Loving well. Living fully. Learning to let go.

Miranda took a deep breath. She knew what she needed to learn from her relationship with Gavin. Though she loved him, she needed to let him go.

Karma.

She walked back to the cabin and thought about the review. The mail would be there by now, and she’d arranged for an issue to be delivered to the cabin today. She flipped open the box and took out the heavy brown envelope. She turned the glossy pages until she reached the HotSpot feature. The sunlight glinted and blinded her for a moment.

Miranda blinked.

Jade Aloha A Rare Find

She skimmed the review of the Chinese restaurant that was a favorite of Andy’s. He’d always begged her to review it, but the place was mostly take-out, so she refused. Miranda checked the date and wondered if Susan sent her the wrong issue.

She shook her head in disbelief. Something had gone wrong. Oddly, the whole review sounded a lot like Andy’s voice. What was going on?

The sound of a car dragging on gravel pulled her attention away. As if observing the scene in a dream, she watched the familiar black Mercedes stop at the end of the drive. Seconds passed that felt like hours, and then the door opened.

She and Gavin gazed at one another for a long while. Despair shook through her. With the grace of a tiger, he closed the distance between them and an animal moan slipped from her lips. Golden brown hair blew gently in the breeze and settled in disarray. Steel-blue eyes glinted with purpose, and he stared at her as if he saw right into her soul. Fierce masculine energy burned in waves around his figure, told by his locked jaw, the set of his shoulders, the proud tilt of his head. The air sizzled with tension.

She took a step back as she caught the hot desire in his gaze. He looked her over like a possessive Dom about to claim his woman, and her nipples immediately peaked with interest.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she tore out.

He considered her question. “Because I have no choice. I didn’t get what I wanted yet.”

“I can’t do this, Gavin. I gave you the review for Mia Casa. I walked away with my head held high and even understood. But don’t toy with me and my feelings. Why aren’t you in China?”

“I’m not going to China, Red. I never was. Brando screwed up and God help him, he’s gonna pay big-time for this mess. You don’t know the stress I’ve been through this past week.”

Her mouth fell open. “You? Your stress? Are you kidding me?”

“No. Next time, if you think I’m flying off to China, just ask me. It would save us both a lot of legwork.”

She shook her head and tried to grasp for sanity. “This is not happening. Gavin, you need to go home, now. It’s too late for us.”

He clenched his fists and cocked his head. “Don’t piss me off, Red. It’s my turn to talk now, and you’re going to listen.” An outraged squeak escaped her lips, but she was too angry to speak. He nodded with approval. “Better. I’ll keep this simple. I made a huge mistake the first time I walked away from you, and I’m not making another one. I also figured out I love Mia Casa. I’m staying. I’m going to run the restaurant with my brother and make it a success. I’m going to buy a big ass house in the city and get a dog. I’m going to play cook, waiter, and peacemaker to my crazy Italian family. I quit Mackenzie & Associates last week.”

She stood in the sunlight, staring at the man she loved, struck completely mute. She waited for the Disney music to cue up and a fairy Godmother to appear from the woods. Nothing happened, though. The wind whispered through the trees. A flock of birds flew overhead, their high-pitched screeches breaking the silence. Miranda stared into his eyes for endless moments as the realization sank in.

“What about the review?” she choked out. “What happened?”

He shrugged. “I stopped it. Had Andy re-write it. If Allison ever read it, she’d tear you apart. Your whole career would be shot. I needed you to believe in me. In us.”

He loved her. He chose her.

She was enough for him. More than enough.

“Why?”

“As Sinatra would say, ‘Who knows where the road will lead us, but if you let me love you, I’ll love you all the way.’”

She blinked. “What?”

He let out a disgusted groan. “Ridiculous Sinatra-isms. Okay, I’ll do this my way. Because I love you.” Shaking his head, he reached into his jean pocket and pulled out a black box. “I’m such an ass. I did this all wrong. Damn Brando. I had dinner, and champagne, and roses all set up. I was going to put the ring in that chocolate truffle dessert you love. Now I screwed the whole thing up. Ah, crap, here we go.”

He dropped to his knee in front of her. Snapped open the lid. And looked up at her, blinking in the rays of light. “I love you. I want to wake up with you every morning and make love to you every night. I want to grow old with you, and when we finally part this life, I want to spend my next one doing it all over again. Just with you.” He hesitated, then clenched his jaw in determination. “I want you to marry me, Miranda. I want you to be my wife.”

Her heart split wide open, filled with joy and love and deep-seated knowledge that Gavin Luciano was the man she’d spend the rest of her life with. A tear escaped her lashes and ran down her cheek. As if the tear had been her answer, he rose from the ground and closed the distance between them. Cupping her cheeks in his hands, he kissed her, sweetly, thoroughly. Her lips trembled beneath his, and when he pulled away, her voice broke on a whisper.

“Yes.”

He slipped the ring over her finger. “I understand why you ran from me. But there will never be another reason for either of us to run again. If you try, I’ll find you every time.”

She laughed as his familiar arrogance shimmered beneath his statements. Miranda wrapped her arms around him and snuggled deep into his arms. “Yes, oh Lord and Master. Will you keep me barefoot and pregnant, too?”

“Not a bad idea.” He buried his face in her mane of curls and breathed in.

She held him close as her world suddenly righted and became whole.

Epilogue

Miranda gasped and shook the paper in front of her. “That bitch!”

Gavin glanced at Brando in worry. His brother took one look at his wife’s furious face and slowly backed away toward the kitchen. “Sorry, dude, you are so on your own. I told you she’d be pissed.”

Gavin ignored the funny pitch in his gut and reminded himself not to be a wuss. He needed to make a decision for the good of Mia Casa. He had no choice.

And he was about to pay the extreme penalty.

He signaled for Dominick to pour him a glass of Chianti and slid it as a peace offering across the table. “Here, baby, what’s upset you?”

She grabbed the wine glass and pushed it back at him. Gavin winced.

“Did you know about this?” she shrieked. One finger jabbed at the black-and-white print of The Gazette, where the column Allison Speaks highlighted the headline. “She gave the restaurant four stars! Four! She never, ever gives four—for God’s sakes, even Chef Pierre got three-and-a-half stars. When was she here? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Gavin kept on his feet in case he needed to make a quick exit. “I wasn’t exactly positive she was going to write it up, but she did call me to ask some questions about the menu. I’ve seen her in here a few times, but figured she was only eating here to piss you off.”

Miranda glowered and tapped her nail against the table. “Oh, this means war. She only rated Mia Casa so high because I trashed it. How dare she? You were doing just fine on your own without her stupid compliments.”

He choked back laughter. “Umm, sweetheart, shouldn’t you be happy for us? I mean, yes, we’ve been doing well, but a review by Allison can make a huge difference. Bring in a bigger crowd. “

That lower lip stuck out and imitated Brando’s famous pout. Except on his wife, it was so damn hot he wanted to grab her and kiss her senseless. Already, he grew to monstrous proportions at the idea of getting his hands on her naked body. His life revved up from black and white to Technicolor, and he loved every damn second of it. Even the fights.

“I’m happy for you,” she grumbled. “I just wish you had let me be the one to do the Hotspot Feature.”

He grinned. “Sorry, your reputation as a hard-ass food critic must be upheld. How would it look if you suddenly praised your new husband’s restaurant? Pretty fishy.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t care. She put me in a bad mood. And she stole my thunder.”

Brando appeared at the table with a basket of warm bread. Melted mozzarella and fresh tomatoes dripped from the edges of the crust. Immediately, his wife perked up. “Here, Miranda, this will make you feel better.” Gavin scowled at his brother, who always seemed to come out the good guy. It was so unfair.

“Thanks, Brando. What would I do without you?”

His brother shot him a haughty look. “Family takes care of family.”

Tony peeked his head out of the kitchen. “Hey, Miranda, do you want to try the Chilean Sea bass? I made it in a way that’s a bit controversial and want your opinion.”

“Sure, Tony, bring it out.”

Brando took a peek at the paper and shook his head. “Everyone knows Allison’s column isn’t half as good as yours, Miranda. It probably won’t make a difference.”

Gavin turned a stunned look toward his brother. Tony came out with a plate of fish simmered in herbs. “Brando’s right. It is a silly column and no one reads it.”

The celebration he had planned for a four-star review shriveled in front of him. “Guys, this is a big deal. A four-star review is huge news for us.”

Tony and Brando shrugged.

Pop trudged in. “What is all this fuss about?”

Gavin reached over and handed him the paper. “Allison Speaks gave us a four-star review, Pop. We finally did it!”

His father glanced through the article and snorted with disgust. “No one reads The Gazette any longer, Giovanni. Who cares what that critic says? Miranda Eats is so much better.”

Miranda beamed.

Gavin slid into the chair, completely defeated. “Forget it. I thought we’d have a reason to celebrate and pop the champagne, but what the hell? Who cares about a four-star review from a prestigious paper?” When he glanced at his wife, a tiny smile curved her lips. “Think this is funny, huh?”

“No. I just think I have better news than that review.”

“What?”

“I’m pregnant.”

The men stopped. Gaped. A big grin transformed his wife’s features, and his heart halted.

A baby.

She sniffed with pride. “See. Told you I can always top Allison.”

His father blinked back tears and wrapped his hands around her. “Congratulations, my darling. A baby. As Sinatra would say, The Best is Yet To Come.”

Gavin gave a roar and shot out of the chair. In moments, he grabbed his wife and spun her around. “We’re going to have a baby?”

“Looks like it.” He stopped and tipped up her chin. His worry seemed palatable, and she caressed his cheek in a soothing gesture. “It’s going to be okay this time,” she whispered. “I just feel it. But whatever happens, we’re in this together.”

Gavin buried his face in her hair and held her close. Amazing all of his dreams finally came true. It took him a long time to get on this road, but he must have done something really wonderful in his past life to deserve her. To deserve everything.

As if she knew his thoughts, Miranda smiled. “Because it’s our karma.”

He lowered his head and kissed his wife in agreement.

Acknowledgements

Ah, so many people have helped me along the way, how do I possibly mention them all?

First off, a big thanks to the Probst Posse team—I have loved getting to know all of you, mingling on our secret group page, and sharing the ups and downs of my writing journey. Readers are the backbone of everything I do, so I simply would not have been successful without you. Cyber hugs!

Second, thanks to Lisa Hamel-Soldano, my dear childhood friend, who has helped me manage many details to keep things running smoothly. It’s fun to share this with you.

To my fab agent, Kevan Lyons, who holds my hand along the way and gives wonderful advice. I’m so glad we hooked up!

To Liz Pelletier, Libby Murphy, and the Entangled team that is growing by leaps and bounds. It’s wonderful to continue working with you and this awesome company.

Finally, to my wonderful family who make this journey ever sweeter. Ray, Jake, Josh, Mom, Dad, Steve, Taylor, Katie, Amanda, Dana, Anna, Enzo, Aunt Roe and Uncle Bill, Aunt Betty and Uncle Eddie, Aunt Mary and Uncle Al, Cousins Ed, Ann Marie, Lisa, Tara, Michael, Christina—your support is always appreciated!

About the Author

Jennifer Probst wrote her first book at twelve years old. She bound it in a folder, read it to her classmates, and hasn’t stopped writing since. She took a short hiatus to get married, get pregnant, buy a house, get pregnant again, pursue a master’s in English Literature, and rescue two shelter dogs. Now she is writing again.

She makes her home in Upstate New York with the whole crew. Her sons, one 5 and one 7, keep her active, stressed, joyous, and sad her house will never be truly clean.

She writes both sexy and erotic romance. She is published with Gallery for her New York Times, USA Today and Wall Street Journal bestselling Marriage to a Billionaire series. Other publishers include Entangled, Decadent,and Red Sage. She has also written a children’s book, Buffy and the Carrot, co-written with her twelve year old niece, along with a short story about a shelter dog, “A Life Worth Living.” All of her books are available at her website or Amazon.

Content

All the Way
by
Jennifer Probst

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

About the Author