Educating Gina (11 page)

Most of the guys dancing didn’t look all that hot out there. But he didn’t care. He had no intention of making a fool of himself. Especially not in front of Gina.

Even though they sat side by side in a booth and were obviously together, she’d been asked to dance several times, had three drinks sent to her and was constantly ogled. She pretty much ignored the attention. Her interest seemed to lie in checking out other women’s shoes.

And in him.

She’d rest her hand on his thigh and lean against him when they tried to talk over the music. She smelled so damn good it was hard to keep in mind he was her chaperon, no different from her aunt, even if Gina didn’t see it that way. It didn’t matter. He knew the score. She was off-limits. He couldn’t let himself slip up again.

Mike would be a liar if he denied that it gave him a rush to be with her in a place like this. Hell, anywhere. She was the perfect female package, and she acted as if he was the only man in the room. Intoxicating stuff.

“Michael?” She touched his arm and leaned so close her warm breath seeped into his skin. “Are we ever going to dance?”

“Later.”

She looked at her watch. “You said that an hour ago.”

“I’m waiting for the right song.”

“You said that, too.” She paused. “Do you not want to dance with me?”

“It’s not that.” Even in the dim lighting he could see hurt in her eyes. “Look, I can’t dance this fast stuff.”

“Oh.” Her longing gaze went back to the dance floor. “They play slow songs.”

“Maybe you should go ahead and dance with one of these other guys.”

Hurt flickered in her eyes again. “I do not want to dance with any of them. I want to dance with you.”

What a jerk. He knew she’d say that. Hell, he wanted her to say it. He’d hate to see her out there with another guy. “Okay, the next slow song.”

Her lips lifted in a beautiful smile. “I will be right back.”

“Gina…”

She slid out of the booth before he could stop her and headed into the crowd. He sure hoped she was only going to the bathroom. Of course, it wasn’t as if she could go far.

Within three minutes she was back, wearing a pleased smile that made him nervous. This time when she slid in next to him, she didn’t leave an inch of space between them. He kind of liked the possessive hand she put on his arm, and the way she tilted her head back to look at him.

He wanted to kiss her. The invitation was written all over her face, across her glistening lips. But he’d worked too hard all week to keep his distance. He wouldn’t blow it now. “Where’d you go?”

“You will see.”

He sighed. She was back in his sight. That’s all that mattered. His gaze returned to the dance floor. Safer not to look at her.

“Michael?”

“Yeah?” He signaled the waitress when she glanced their way. A wise man would switch to coffee or cola. Mike figured he’d have just one more beer.

“Why do you not dance?”

He shrugged. “I just never have.”

“Not even while you were in school?”

“I was busy studying or playing baseball or taking karate lessons. And then I started working when I was sixteen, so I had even less time for a social life.”

“Why have you not talked about your father?”

Mike tensed at the unexpected mention of his father. The music stopped, and couples wandered back to their seats or to stand at the bar. The band picked a hell of a time to take a break. “I never knew him.”

Luckily the waitress arrived to take their order. Gina had barely touched her cabernet and declined. Mike requested another beer.

She placed a hand on his thigh and he wondered if she had any idea how close her fingers were to the playground. “Did he die when you were very young?”

“Something like that.”

“I am so sorry. I did not…” She frowned. “I do not understand.”

Damn. He should have let it go. Just said yes, that the guy had died. He didn’t want to explain, but he didn’t want her upset, thinking she’d said something wrong. It wasn’t her fault his father was a no-good bum who’d walked out on his wife and baby son.

“He didn’t die. He may be dead by now for all I know.” Mike drained the last of his beer. “I guess he didn’t like the responsibility of having a family.”

Gina’s eyes widened. “So he left?”

“Yup.”

“Did you ever seen him again?”

“Only pictures.”

She gasped and muttered something in Italian, the hand on his thigh tightening.

“It was okay,” he said. “My mom didn’t need a deadbeat like him in her life. We did fine by ourselves.”

“But it is not right for a man to abandon his family.” Her eyes were so earnest he didn’t have the heart to laugh at her naive remark. “He sent no letters, no money?”

“Like I said, we were better off without him.”

She shook her head sadly. “Too bad he did not see what a fine son he had.”

A lump formed in Mike’s throat that surprised him. He rarely thought about the man he considered to be no more than a sperm donor. He certainly had no feelings for the man who didn’t deserve the title of father. “Thank you,” he said, amazed at how much her sincere words meant to him. “Now let’s talk about something else.”

“Is that why you work so hard, Michael?” She rested her chin on his shoulder and stared into his eyes.

He drew back his head to keep their lips from fastening to each other. The woman had no concept of personal space. She’d be the death of him yet. “What do you mean? I’ve been slacking off the entire week.”

“Zio Antonio said you are the hardest-working person in the office.”

“He did?” Antonio had always been generous with bonuses to show he approved of someone’s work performance, but verbal compliments were nonexistent.

She nodded. “He said you work harder than his own son and his wife’s two brothers.”

Warmth spread through him. He shrugged. “Nah, I’m just in the office a lot.”

“You will make a good husband and father.”

Mike laughed. The idea made him nervous. “If the time ever comes, I sure hope so.”

“Of course it will come.” She drew her head back, clearly shocked that he would think otherwise. “Do you not want a family?”

He honestly hadn’t thought about it much. Work seemed to consume him the past few years. Scarpetti Wines had so much untapped potential. He had so many ideas to explore, the West Coast distributorship to tackle—

“Sorry, I am being—how do you say?” She made a face. “Nosy?”

“That’s how you say it.”

She lightly punched his arm. “I will not ask any more questions, since you are so sensitive about the subject.”

He smiled. “Now you’re being manipulative.”

“What is that word?”

“Never mind.”

The waitress showed up with his beer, effectively ending the conversation. Gina was obviously on a new track, although what, he had no idea. Her brows drawn together in a speculative frown, she stared at his beer with keen interest.

“Do you prefer beer over wine?” she finally asked.

“Not really, but when I come to a place like this that specializes in microbreweries, I like trying a new one each time.”

“Why do they not specialize in wine?”

“What do you mean?” He had no idea where she was going with this, but the way her expression intensified held his interest. Even her body language changed. She had straightened away from him and placed a hand on the table, her fingers drumming on the marble top while her eyes narrowed in deep concentration.

“Are there wine bars in the city?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“Like this?”

“Well, no, they’re much smaller and more reserved.”

“No dancing or music?”

He smiled. Certainly not the two he’d visited. “They’re more like private clubs, without actually being private. Usually patronized by a wealthier clientele.”

“Wine does not have to be expensive.”

“True.” He knew where she was headed now, and he admired her enthusiasm, but he didn’t think her idea would work.

She gestured with her chin toward the list of microbrews posted at the bar. “Why not have a list of wines by the glass? Different kinds could be featured each week.”

“If this were an older crowd, it would be a great idea.” He glanced around at the mostly twenty-somethings. A few were pushing forty, but most of the customers were in their mid to late twenties.

“Age is not an issue. I love wine.”

“You’re European. Americans, for the most part, have not grown up drinking wine.” Europeans were different, all right. His mind immediately went back to the beach—and Gina’s bare breasts, her round rosy nipples…

He shifted in his seat. He definitely could not go there. Forcing his thoughts back to business, he gestured to an assortment of mugs and pony glasses being delivered by a waitress to a nearby table. “Look at what’s being served. Either people are ordering beer or they go for the specialty drinks like ‘sex on the beach’ or ‘blow jobs.’”

Gina turned wide disbelieving eyes on him.
“Scusi?”

He laughed at her expression. “They’re names of drinks. See those short tubular glasses with the dark-cream-colored drink? I think that’s a blow job. It’s made with Kahlua and cream and maybe vodka, I can’t remember.”

She stared at the drink, looking uncertain. “You are teasing me, yes?”

He laughed. “No, I don’t have that good an imagination.” The party of six began to grab their respective drinks. Two of the women had ordered what he guessed were blow jobs, which he hoped they’d drink in the colorful manner intended. “Watch this.”

Sure enough, the blonde positioned the glass directly in front of her, clasped her hands behind her back and then bowed to clamp her mouth around the entire glass and throw her head back, draining the contents.

Gina gasped and continued to stare. No one else paid attention, except for one of the guys at the table who made a crude remark about the residual cream on the woman’s lips. The drink had been around so long it wasn’t a novelty anymore.

There were surely others more popular now, but Mike hadn’t kept up with the trends. He’d been too busy working. In fact, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d been in a club like this. He suddenly felt old. Hell, he
was
old. A year and a half and he’d hit the big three-o.

And no prospect for a wife in sight.

His gaze went to Gina.

Dammit, bad enough she had him thinking about marriage and kids. It wasn’t as if she was a candidate. Or could be one.

Even if he was seriously looking.

Which he wasn’t.

The band returned to the stage and started tuning up for the next set. Fortunately the music distracted Gina, and she twisted around in her seat, her gaze going expectantly to the stage.

The lead singer stepped up to the microphone. “We’re going to do something a little different. We’re starting the set off with a slow song. This goes out to Gina.” He stepped back and started strumming his guitar.

“That’s where you went,” Mike said. To make a request. He shook his head. The band hadn’t played many slow songs. He was hoping to escape without having to get on the floor.

She scooted out of the booth, held out her hand and smiled.

“We will dance, yes?”

He hesitated, and in the space of two seconds, a short stocky guy put an arm around Gina. “I’ll dance with you, baby.”

Her eyes widened, but before Mike could say anything, she smiled sweetly at the guy and said, “I know karate.”

“Hell, I was just trying to be nice.” He promptly withdrew his arm and sauntered off in search of other prey.

Chuckling, Mike stood before anyone else tried to cut in and Gina decided she’d demonstrate a karate chop. She had her heart set on dancing. He might as well get it over with. Fortunately it was already eleven-thirty. They’d have to leave soon.

She led him to the dance floor, clutching his hand tightly as they wove their way through the crowd. Other couples had already started dancing, their bodies pressed so close they seemed to melt into each other.

Gina found a spot near the middle, but already the floor was so crowded there wasn’t much room to move. Good news, in that he didn’t have to worry about his feet doing the right thing. Bad news, in that he was forced to hold Gina so close. Any hope of keeping a modest distance between them dissolved when she slid her arms around his neck and snuggled her breasts against his chest, and then molded her hips to his.

She nestled her face in his neck, and he slowly gave in and buried his face in her hair. Her exotic feminine scent intoxicated him like no amount of expensive wine could. It made him drunk with wanting and needing, and worse, longing.

Thoughts filled his head that had no business being there. Scary notions that reached beyond uncomplicated sex. He forced himself to remember that Gina was an assignment no different from any other task Antonio would give him. This one just happened to be more personal. Which made it all the more important. It involved a trust that Antonio reserved for family.