Italian Stallions (19 page)

She took pride in her work and didn’t want to take favors from anybody, he mused, remembering her insistence on paying him rent even though he didn’t need the money. He admired her for wanting to pull her own weight, to make it on her own. He could relate. When Vince had announced his desire to go to college, his mother had shaken her head in puzzlement while his stepfather had laughed in his face.

“Where you think you’re gonna get that kinda money, Vince? Whaddya need college for anyway? Your Uncle Lou already said he’d hire you.”

Vince’s stepfather hadn’t understood that Vince wanted more from life than to work for his Uncle Lou’s construction company, marry a girl from the neighborhood and have about a hundred kids.

He knew what was possible for a guy with his brains and his drive, and he wasn’t about to waste it on a life that was “good enough.” So he’d worked hard, gone to college on a football scholarship and worked as a trader straight out of school. When his firm had offered to send a select few junior traders to business school, Vince had made sure he was at the top of the list.

He, like Theresa, had worked his ass off at whatever job he happened to have at the time, whether it was doing construction work in the off season during college, or pulling ridiculous hours as a trader when he’d first started out.

Theresa repeated the sit/stay routine with Chester about a dozen times, until finally the dumb dog got the idea. Vince could hear her triumphant whoop through the double-paned glass and he grinned as she held out her arms to Chester, who bounded over and raised up on his hind legs, resting his paws on her shoulders.

He laughed at her exuberant response. She must have heard him, because her attention snapped up to the office window. Her eyes were bright, her face flushed, and she looked so pretty, it hit him like a kick in the gut. Heat curled low in his belly as he returned her sheepish wave.

He wondered what Theresa Bellessi wanted from life. Because right about now, Vince was ready to do give her anything she wanted for one more night in her bed.

“How’s it going with Vince?”

Theresa jumped at Gia’s question later that evening. Did Gia suspect? Was the fact that she’d spent most of the night rolling around naked with Vince tattooed on her forehead? From the way her body pulled and tingled with every slight movement, she felt like she might as well have been wearing a neon sign that read
I got lucky with a sexy zillionaire.

But Gia’s expression was one of casual curiosity, her brown eyes bright and friendly as usual.

“It’s great,” Theresa said as she waved to one of the regulars as he left the bar to be seated at his table. “He was gone all week, so I haven’t seen much of him.”

Okay, so that wasn’t technically true. Because as of last night, Theresa had in fact seen
all
of him. Every big, muscled, scrumptious inch of him.

“Are you okay? You look a little flushed. You’re not getting that flu that’s going around, are you? I told you to get the shot.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Theresa said dryly. That was Gia, always trying to take care of everyone. “I’m fine. I’ve just been running around a lot today. Speaking of which, I finally have a new cell phone number.”

She’d spent most of the day running errands, taking Chester for walks, anything and everything to avoid the house and Vince. Despite her determination that last night was a one-time deal, she was afraid that she would end up back in that vast bed of his with the slightest encouragement.

The upshot was that she’d finally taken care of miscellaneous life admin tasks, like getting a new cell phone number since she’d had to cut off service to avoid Mark’s calls.

“There’s no way for him to get this number, is there?” Gia asked as she jotted down the number.

Theresa shook her head. “It’s unlisted.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to file a restraining order, just in case? Gabe can help you.” Gia’s eyes wide and worried.

“Don’t worry about it,” Theresa said, noticing a couple that had just sat down in her section. “He called because he wanted to annoy me, but he’s not going to bother to come after me.” Yes, Mark was pissed she’d left him, as evidenced by his multiple voicemails. They’d started out sweet and pleading, and swiftly turned angry and abusive. But she’d cleared the slate when she’d left, paid off his debts and his rent for the next month. There was no reason to come after her. “And even if she did,” thinking out loud for Gia’s benefit, “he wouldn’t hurt me. Trust me, he’s all bluster.”

Now that was a blatant lie, and she had the healed fracture in her wrist and the memory of countless bruises to remind her. But even after all that, Theresa didn’t believe for a second Mark had it in for her.

“As long as you’re sure,” Gia said.

“Mark’s like a little kid, pissed that he didn’t get his way. Now he’s elevated drunk dialing to an art form. That’s it. If he were really a threat, don’t you think I’d have moved someplace a little less obvious instead of coming home?”

“If who were a threat?”

At the first deep-voiced syllable, all thoughts of her loser ex-boyfriend fled and every square inch of Theresa’s skin bloomed with heat. She didn’t need to turn around to know it was Vince. Even if his voice hadn’t been a dead giveaway, she could pick up his fresh, spicy scent through the heavy smells of Ciao Bella’s hearty Italian dishes. Like her body had a highly sensitive radar tuned exclusively to him.

She whipped around, drink tray clutched to her chest, to see him standing about six inches from her. “No one,” she said quickly. He gazed at her steadily and quirked a thick, dark brow as though he didn’t believe her. “What are you doing here?” she asked, wincing at how rude that sounded.

Gia shot her a puzzled look. “It’s good to see you, Vince. We missed you this week.” She looked pointedly at Theresa.

“Right, sorry,” Theresa said, feeling the flush on her cheeks grow more intense. “I didn’t mean it’s not good to see you. Of course it is. I just didn’t expect to see you tonight, since you didn’t mention anything. But then, there’s no reason to tell me your plans.” Fine lines radiated out from Vince’s eyes as he started to grin at her nervous chatter. And then his eyes got hooded as he looked at her, as though he was remembering her naked. Which made her remember him naked…

“Theresa, do you want to stop babbling and get Vince a drink?” Gia said sharply. Theresa could have kissed her cousin for giving Theresa an excuse to flee.

As she put in the order, she heard Gia offer to seat Vince in the main restaurant since they unexpectedly had a table free.

“No, it’s late. I’ll sit in the bar.”

Theresa turned to see him sit down at a table in her section.

“Theresa can take care of me,” he said with a knowing smile that fortunately seemed lost on Gia.

Theresa placed his usual drink, a vodka on the rocks with a twist of lemon, in front of Vince, then quickly scanned the bar, eager to make a quick getaway before she made a fool of herself all over again. So much for her plan of playing it cool and acting like sex with him was no big deal. She was handling this with all the finesse of a high school band geek with a crush on a football player.

Unfortunately, it was almost ten and though the restaurant was still nearly full of diners, the bar crowd had thinned out considerably. There were only four other tables occupied, and three of them were in the section covered by Tanya, the other cocktail waitress.

She turned her attention back to Vince and tried to keep her manner professional. “So what can I get you?”

He leaned back in his chair, one arm flung around the back as he kicked his legs out in a casual sprawl. “I don’t know. I can’t decide what I’m in the mood for.”

He was dressed like almost every other guy in here, in dark wash jeans and button front shirt. It shouldn’t have looked so sexy. But the way his broad chest and shoulders filled out his shirtfront, the subtle shift of muscle under the heavy denim of his pants made her mouth go dry as the area between her legs went embarrassingly wet. His shirt was open at the collar, displaying his strong, tanned throat to her hungry gaze.

She dragged her eyes up to his face, which was a mistake. He was staring at her, his full lips quirked into a half smile as though he knew exactly what she was thinking.

She cleared her throat and focused on taking his order so she could get the hell out of there. “Let’s see. The chef has a special pasta tonight. Tagliatelle with prosciutto and peas. That’s very nice if you want something light. Or if you want something heavier, we have our veal osso bucco.” As she mindlessly recited the entire menu, Vince stared at her as though the only dish he was in the mood to consume was her.

She cut herself off in the middle of their wood-fired pizza options. “Will you stop that?” she whispered harshly.

“What?” Vince replied, eyes wide, big hands splayed as if to say,
who, me?
He blinked his big, coffee-colored eyes in false innocence. “I’m just trying to decide what I want to eat.”

She glared at him, seizing onto annoyance like a lifeline. “Stop leering at me while you decide.”

A laugh rumbled from his chest. “Can’t a man look at a beautiful woman without getting his balls busted?”

“Vince, I thought I made it clear this morning—”

“Relax, Theresa. I don’t know what you think is going on here.” He took a sip of his drink. When he set it down, he caressed the rim with his fingers, circling the glass with a blunt fingertip. She was mesmerized by those fingers, remembering how they felt skimming along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs before sliding inside her. She moved her gaze to his face, only to find him watching her.

He knew exactly what he was doing, the prick. “I’ll give you a few more minutes to decide.” She turned in a huff and nearly ran into Gia.

“Is everything okay over here?” she asked, casting nervous glances between Theresa and Vince.

Theresa quickly moved to diffuse the tension, not wanting to put her cousin in the position of having to mediate between a family member and a favorite customer. She forced a laugh. “It’s nothing. Vince was just busting my chops for Chester’s slow progress in his obedience classes.” She turned back to Vince.

Vince laughed. “Right. We were talking about the dog.”

Theresa scooped up his drink, which still had a full inch or so of booze left. “Let me refresh this while you decide what you want to eat.”

She didn’t know what game he was playing. This morning he seemed eager—almost disappointingly so—to agree to her assertion that sex with him was only a one-time thing. Now he was deliberately toying with her, giving her looks that made her feel like she was being bathed in warm honey while he told her she was beautiful.

If he pushed any harder she was going to be in very big trouble.

But at least he didn’t seem inclined to probe any further into the snippet of conversation he’d overheard earlier. The last thing she wanted was to have to share the particulars of her past with Vince. Besides what happened between them sexually, she genuinely liked and respected Vince, and wanted him to feel the same for her. And she didn’t expect that he would if she shared the sordid truth about Mark and what she’d been willing to do, first in the name of love, later out of obligation—and fear.

After Vince finally settled on a plate of pasta pomodoro, Theresa served up his order in record time, hoping to hustle him out of there.

“You must be exhausted,” Theresa said as she handed him his check. “It’s already almost two a.m. Your time.”

He smiled blandly, completely ignoring her hint. “I crashed for a few hours earlier, after you left. I’m wide awake. As long as I’m here, I’ll walk you home.”

Yeah, that was all her tenuous resolve needed, a walk home with Vince on a moonlit fall night. “Gia can give me a ride home.”

“I insist,” he said, and ordered a glass of vin santo.

So Theresa found herself walking home with Vince. She kept her mouth shut and her eyes fixed in front of her, but it wasn’t nearly enough to block out his presence. At this hour on a Saturday night, North Beach was full of fashionably dressed San Franciscans hopping among the many hot spots. She couldn’t help but notice that every single woman they passed raked Vince with a covetous gaze. Theresa forced down an irrational, territorial urge to clamp onto his hand and proclaim to everyone that Vince was hers.

But he wasn’t. And he never would be.

She folded her arms more tightly around her chest and charged ahead, nearly falling on her ass when an obviously drunk guy stumbled into her. Vince steadied her with an arm around her shoulders. “Watch where you’re fuckin’ goin’,” he said to the drunk’s back.

The guy stiffened and turned around, chin tilted pugnaciously as his hands clenched at his sides. Then he got a good look at Vince, who topped him by a good six inches, and mumbled an apology to Theresa before hustling off to catch up with his friends.

“Idiot,” Vince muttered. “You okay?” He gave her shoulders a little squeeze.

She nodded, but didn’t immediately pull away. That big, muscular arm felt so good wrapped around her, it sent a shiver down her spine.

“You’re cold,” he said, and before she could protest the heavy weight of his leather jacket settled over her. His warmth and scent enveloped her, and she was so far from cold she was afraid she was about to spontaneously combust.

“I’m fine,” she said, and tried to give the jacket back.

He refused, of course. “You wear it. I tend to be hot anyway.”

God, did she know it, remembering the way heat had emanated from his bare skin as she lay curled up beside him.

They walked a few more blocks in silence. With every step that brought them closer to home, temptation grew. Every nerve ending was on high alert. Every so often her arm or shoulder would brush against him, and she felt the heat through the thick layer of his jacket. Her breath grew short, and she was glad she had the steep climb up Greenwich Street to blame. She prayed he remained ignorant of her arousal. God, if it got any worse she was in danger of becoming the first woman in recorded history to have an orgasm simply from walking next to a man.