Italian Stallions (15 page)

Tonight at the restaurant, Cameron had run out of patience. “How’s our baby?” she’d asked.

Vince had nearly choked on his carpaccio appetizer. “Baby?”

“Chester.” Though she said it with a teasing eyeroll and a swipe at his arm, he could tell she was carefully gauging his reaction.

“The
dog,
” he said, “is fine as far as I know.” He took a fortifying sip of his vodka on the rocks.

“Did he miss his daddy while you were gone? Did you tell him mommy was sorry she couldn’t come visit, but daddy won’t give her a key to the house?”

He threw his fork down. “How about we cut the crap, Cameron,” he said in the same sharp, no-bullshit tone that had earned him fear and respect in boardrooms across the world. “You got a problem with the way things are, spit it out.”

Cameron sat up straighter, smoothed her glossy blond hair and took a sip of her pinot grigio. “I feel bad for the dog, is all,” she said, her body stiff. “I mean, you’re never home, and the poor dog is alone all day—”

“You knew that when you got the damned dog,” he said, trying to keep a rein on his temper. He wasn’t one to lose his cool, but he had no patience for people who chose not to say what they really meant.

“Well, I know,” she snapped, “but all I can think is that if you can’t even take care of a dog, how can you ever take care of a child?”

“Since I don’t have any kids, and don’t plan to anytime soon, I don’t think I need to worry about my parenting skills at this point.”

He looked past Cameron’s shoulder, his gaze locking on the little dark-haired cocktail waitress weaving her way through the crowd with a loaded tray. Gia must have hired her while he’d been out of town, because he didn’t recognize her. And since he ate dinner at Ciao Bella almost every night, he was well acquainted with nearly all of the staff.

He couldn’t see much of her—she was short and the crowd was thick—but he got the impression of dark, pretty hair, and a figure nearly swallowed up by the white button-down shirt with “Ciao Bella” embroidered over the pocket. He tracked her progress as she worked her way closer to their table, fully intending to flag her down and request another drink since his regular waitress was nowhere in sight. And since Cameron seemed inclined to talk all night about the state of their relationship, a few more drinks were definitely in order.

“Vince, are you even listening? Seriously, when we get married—”

That snapped him to attention like a drive-by bullet. “Married?” He couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. “I’m not marrying anyone,” he said.

Then he felt bad when Cameron’s face crumpled like paper and she gasped out, “Screw you, Vince!” She’d shoved back her chair and stood up just as the little cocktail waitress was trying to sidle by.

That was when all hell had broken loose.

Now he looked down at his wine-stained shirt and smiled bigger than he should for a man who wasn’t getting laid anytime soon. But he couldn’t help grinning at the remembered feel of the waitress’s curvy little body squirming to get off his lap. Buried underneath the concealing waitress outfit had been a pair of lusciously plump breasts and a ridiculously tiny waist, nicely balanced by the lush, round, firm ass that ground against him as she’d struggled to her feet.

Then he’d seen her face and he’d felt like a dirty old man. At least she wasn’t a teenager, he consoled himself. Hell, she had to be at least twenty-one to work in the bar of the restaurant, but he’d bet good money she’d been legal less than a year.

At thirty-five, he didn’t exactly have one foot in the grave, but he was long past the days of chasing girls barely out of their teens.

Not to mention that the admiration wasn’t mutual. The girl clearly felt horrible about spilling the drinks on him, but hadn’t even given him a second glance. Call him arrogant, but he had a mirror and he knew he was good-looking. Combine that with an expensive, if understated wardrobe, and most women who looked his way saw something they liked.

But not her. She’d been focused on making amends, insisting she cover his drinks and appetizers, upset and afraid of his reaction. He would have much preferred to finish his dinner and reassure her that everything was fine, but Cameron hadn’t stormed out and gotten a cab as he’d secretly hoped. Instead, she’d waited outside, obviously expecting him to come chasing after her.

Three hours later, he’d been summarily dumped. He supposed he should be more upset. Cameron was, after all, beautiful and successful, the kind of woman other women envied and other men coveted. But since he’d moved to San Francisco four years ago, his relationships always went the same way. He dated a woman for awhile, and though he never gave any hint of getting serious, eventually she wanted more than he was willing to give.

He couldn’t blame Cameron for cutting her losses before she wasted any more of her time. She deserved to be with a man who could commit, a man who would marry her, give her what she wanted. Someday Vince would be that kind of man, but not now. At this point in his life, work was his priority, and everyone and everything had to be content with taking a back seat.

Vince jerked at the whiff of dog breath that hit his face right before Chester nailed him with a slobbery swipe of his tongue. “That means you too, buddy.” Work was his life right now. He didn’t have time to worry about anything else.

“W
hat can I get for you?” The following Tuesday, Vince was back at Ciao Bella, smiling up at the cute dark-haired waitress who’d spilled wine on him. She waited to take his order. God, she was pretty. Young, he reminded himself sternly, but ridiculously beautiful, with big, dark eyes, smooth olive skin and bee-stung lips glossed to a high shine. The thought of kissing those lips, licking his way into the dark sweetness of her mouth, had his cock thickening against his zipper in a way that made him glad his crotch was concealed by the table.

She had no inkling of the direction his thoughts were going, and merely smiled a neutral, expectant smile until he finally managed to choke out a reply.

As the waitress went to retrieve his drink, Gia came over to say hello. He stood to kiss both of her cheeks, and Vince noticed something different about her, something he’d started to pick up on Friday but hadn’t had time to think about after the commotion Cameron had caused.

In the time he’d known Gia, she’d always faded into the background, but for the first time in four years, he realized Gia was damned attractive. No, scratch that, the woman was
hot.

“Did you do something different? Buy a new outfit?”

Gia laughed and rolled her eyes. “Typical guy. Yes, I got a new outfit. I also chopped eight inches off my hair, had it styled, waxed my eyebrows and finally learned how to use makeup.”

Vince smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “At least I noticed something.”

“So…no Cameron?” Gia asked after a beat.

“No. Not anymore.”

“Yeah, you look a little down.”

He huffed a frustrated laugh and waved his hand dismissively. “Hell, Cameron’s not the problem. It’s that damn dog she bought me. Chester’s gonna drive me insane.”

Cameron might not have known it, but she got the last laugh when she’d saddled Vince with a dog.

Chester had been deemed too hyperactive for the atrociously expensive doggy day-care a colleague had recommended, and when Vince had tried taking him to the kennel he’d had a doggy mental breakdown. Chester needed personal, one-on-one attention, both during the days and when Vince traveled out of town. But his housekeeper had flat out refused to keep him in the house with her during the day. As a result, his neighbors had filed five noise complaints in the past week. Vince had had to pay a fine and animal control was threatening to seize the dog.

“I could take him to the animal shelter,” he began, but stopped when Gia recoiled in horror. “Exactly my thought. Like I don’t have enough to deal with, I have to worry about hiring a damn dog sitter.”

The waitress reappeared with his drink and Gia gestured toward her. “I didn’t have a chance to formally introduce you last week—Vince, this is my cousin Theresa Bellessi. She just moved back to town a couple weeks ago. Theresa, this is Vince Mattera, one of our best customers.” She gave them both a play-nice smile. “Okay. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go speak with the chef.”

She left them alone.

Vince reached out to shake her hand. Theresa’s hand was small, her long fingers tipped with short, buffed nails. But her grip was firm as she clasped his much bigger palm. “Great, now I feel even better about spilling drinks all over you and taking your ridiculous tip for it,” she said with a rueful smile.

“Well I figured I better tip for the lap dance,” he said, then immediately wished he could take back the obnoxious comment.

Color rose in her cheeks and her lips tipped up at the corners as she leaned a little bit forward and said in a low voice, “If I’d really given you a lap dance, you would have tipped me more than a hundred.” A grin pulled at his lips as that image sank into his brain and took root as she straightened back up, once again all business. “Now, are you having dinner as well as cocktails tonight?”

Vince placed his food order and watched her walk away, his gaze pinned to the bounce of her ass under her slim black pants. That, combined with the knowing look that had accompanied her lap dancing comment was enough to send all the blood in his body surging for his groin. His neurons were firing images around his head, none of them suitable for dinner in the peaceful bar of a classy Italian restaurant.

He didn’t go for strip clubs, didn’t like the idea of having to pay a woman to undress and pretend that she liked him, but now he was gripped by a totally inappropriate fantasy of Theresa dragging him to a back room and slowly, suggestively stripping down to nothing but a g-string as she ground herself against his thighs. He watched her take an order from another customer, her friendly smile and neatly pulled-back hair so at odds with the lurid fantasy he was spinning.

He closed his eyes, banishing the images of a nearly naked Theresa from his brain, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Theresa Bellessi was no doubt just like her cousin Gia. A nice, traditional,
sheltered
Italian girl, no matter what kind of snappy comments she came up with. And if he wanted to keep eating at his favorite restaurant, he needed to keep that firmly in mind.

Theresa snuck another glance at Vince, still seated in the bar. He’d already closed out his tab and was sipping his drink as his gaze aimlessly drifted over the other patrons. He exchanged greetings with several of the customers, all regulars like himself who she’d gotten to know in the brief time she’d worked here. He smiled at her and raised his drink and she jerked her gaze away, mortified to be caught staring.

“Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Gia sighed.

“Who?”

Gia didn’t buy her feigned ignorance for a second. “Give me a break. You’ve been eying him all night.”

“Have not,” Theresa said childishly as she punched a drink order into the restaurant computer. But she had, and was embarrassed that it hadn’t gone unnoticed. She couldn’t help it. There was something about him, a lethal combination of rugged good looks and earthy animal magnetism that drew her in like a tractor beam. She found herself wanting to run her fingers over all his hard edges and corded muscles, wondered how they would feel pressing up against her own soft curves.

The overtly sexual thought shocked her. It had been so long since she’d been even remotely interested in sex. For the last year, she’d been only going through the motions with her ex-boyfriend, feeling like that part of her had been lost somewhere in the wreckage that she’d let her life become.

Now, she felt the grip of arousal curl in her belly, completely unexpected.

Don’t even go there,
she told herself sternly. She’d come back to San Francisco to get away from the last guy who had turned her head. She needed to focus on getting her life back on track, and that meant not getting distracted by trivial things like hot, rich, successful men and the lustful urges they inspired. “He’s good looking, I suppose, if you like really big, muscular guys.”

Gia raised a skeptical, perfectly groomed brow. “And you don’t?”

Theresa shrugged noncommittally. “I’ve got more important things to think about, as you well know.”

Gia’s face expression turned serious. “Did you find a place yet?”

Theresa swallowed back frustration and finished entering her drink order. “The only place I found that I could afford is a room on 14th Street.”

She wrinkled her nose as she remembered her visit earlier that afternoon. Even in the middle of the day, Theresa hadn’t felt safe walking around by herself. When her prospective roommate had opened the door, Theresa had been greeted by a female face rendered nearly unrecognizable from numerous piercings and tattoos. Which wouldn’t have been that bad—Theresa knew lots of nice people with piercings and tattoos.

But the woman also had the gaunt, stringy frame and hollow-eyed gaze of an addict. And based on the track marks marching up and down the woman’s scrawny arms, Theresa would bet that heroin was her drug of choice. She’d realized very quickly that unless she was willing to put up with lowlifes and the constant risk of having her stuff stolen, that wasn’t the place for her.

“You can’t live there,” a deep voice laced with a heavy New York accent echoed her thoughts. “That neighborhood is full of junkies and criminals.”

Theresa looked up to find Vince blatantly eavesdropping on their conversation. She looked him up and down. With his five hundred dollar shoes and a Rolex that would have served as a nice down payment on a house, his look screamed Nob Hill. “Thanks for the tip, but we can’t all afford to live in your neighborhood.”

“How do you like dogs?”

Theresa frowned at the seemingly random question. Gia, in contrast, smiled as though in dawning comprehension. “Dogs?”

“Yeah. You like dogs?”

“I’m not sure I want to know where this conversation is going, but sure, I like dogs okay.”

“Good. You can move in with me.”

Theresa stepped back in surprise. “Isn’t that a rather major step for this stage in our relationship?”

Vince laughed, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners. “Here’s the deal. I have this dog. He needs attention, he needs training, and I don’t have time to do it. Plus, I travel a lot and I need someone to stay with him when I’m out of town.”

“You can’t just hire a trainer?”

“Chester is,” he pressed his lips together as though searching for the right word, “challenging.” Gia laughed, unsuccessfully smothering it when Vince shot her a quelling look. “I need in-home care.”

“Like a dog nanny,” Theresa said.

He frowned as though not liking the way that sounded. “I suppose you could put it that way. Point is, I have a big place. I could let you live there in exchange for helping me take care of Chester.”

Her gaze narrowed as she studied him, trying to see the truth behind that all too charming smile. Sure, he was beautiful to look at and seemed like a decent enough guy, but who knew what he was really like at home? And what if he was just luring her in with this whole dogsitting thing, then expected her to do more in exchange for a reduced rent?

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a hardship,
an evil little voice said.

“Sorry, I’m looking for female roommates only.”

“You could take the guest cottage. It’s a studio, no separate bedroom, but it’s fully equipped with a kitchen and cable.”

Theresa’s brows shot to her hairline. “Guest cottage? Exactly how big of a place do you have?”

“Huge,” Gia said before he could answer.

“You start work at what, five?” Vince fished a business card out of his pocket and scribbled an address on the back. “Come by tomorrow at twelve-fifteen and take a look.”

He nodded good night to Gia and left without even waiting for Theresa to say yes, as though he was used to having people do exactly as he ordered.

“Take it,” Gia said.

“I don’t think so,” Theresa said, shaking her head as she picked up her tray. “All I have to do is take care of a dog? There’s got to be a catch.”

“Not with Vince. He’s been coming in here a long time. He’s a straight-up guy. You have nothing to worry about.”

Theresa wasn’t convinced.

“You want to sleep on your mom’s couch indefinitely?”

“Of course not,” Theresa said. “But I don’t think Vince’s place is the answer.”

Theresa began to rethink that the moment she stepped into her parents’ house several hours later. She crept up the stairs of the old Victorian, feeling like a teenager sneaking in after curfew.

Not that she’d ever done that. She’d been a model daughter up until three years ago when she’d foolishly skipped town with Mark Silverton. Her father had yet to forgive her.

She winced as a stair squeaked under her foot. She didn’t know what she was so worried about. Her parents were always in bed by ten, and it was nearly midnight. There was virtually no chance of running into her father.

She reached the top of the stairs and was headed down the narrow hallway to her room when she noticed that the kitchen light had been left on. She paused to turn it off and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw her father sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper.

He looked up, and for a moment they locked eyes. It was the first time she’d seen him since her Uncle Alberto’s funeral. Her father didn’t look happy about it. Up until now it had been easy for him to avoid her, and Theresa was sure that was the only reason he’d given into Theresa’s mother and let her stay with them until she found another place.

“Hi, Daddy,” Theresa said tentatively.

His expression glazed over and he stared through her as though she wasn’t there.
You’re dead to me.
The last words he ever spoke to her echoed in her brain as a cold lump settled in the pit of her stomach. Judging from the way he’d turned his attention back to his paper without so much as acknowledging her presence, he hadn’t changed his mind.

That’s what happened when a twenty-first century girl finally rebelled against her father’s nineteenth-century mindset. And that was just because she’d been “living in sin.” Theresa didn’t even want to think about her father’s reaction if he ever found out more details about her last year in New York.

She walked slowly down the hall, her father’s disapproval settling over her like a lead cloak. She snapped the light on in the room where she was staying. It used to be hers, but when she’d left with Mark her parents had removed any trace of her existence. Her posters, books, clothes were all gone. It had been reclaimed as a combination office and guest room. Where Theresa’s double bed with its fluffy white comforter had stood, there was now a fold out couch that Theresa meticulously folded and put away each morning. Her white dresser and mirror had been replaced by a large desk topped by her parents’ home computer.

She sank wearily onto the couch and kicked off her shoes. When Gia had called her and encouraged Theresa to come back home, Theresa had felt like she had a chance to get her life back on track, get it back to the way it was supposed to be.

Some life. She was twenty-four years old, broke, and had ditched her education and caused what appeared to be a permanent rift with her father to move across the country and shack up with her lowlife boyfriend. Now she had the honor of being an unwanted guest in her parents’ house.