Читать книгу Recipe For Disaster - Нина Харрингтон - Страница 9

Fabio peered out of the side window of Jerry’s 4 x 4 luxury car and tried to read the street names on the white plaques pinned high on the walls around him.

They had been on the road for almost an hour and had probably travelled not more than a couple of miles. Most of it either stuck in traffic or going around in circles in the one-way road system.

‘Come on, Jerry. This is your city. Surely you can find one deli? Please. I would like to get there before midnight if that is okay with you.’

‘Hey,’ Jerry chuckled and rapped his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘Do you know every street in Milan? No. I didn’t think so.’

Then he gestured with his head towards the sat-nav display. ‘We can’t be more than five minutes from the address but it looks like a pedestrian-only area to me. Which means I need to find a parking space and stay with the motor while you make the drop. The traffic wardens around here are ruthless.’

‘I’ll take your word for that.’ Fabio sighed and shrugged into his suit jacket as he scanned the street. ‘This is not what I was expecting. No big businesses. No factory units. Which makes me curious. What has the Caruso family got to do with someone who lives around here?’

‘Your dad didn’t tell you anything at all?’ Jerry replied, his attention on the traffic lights.

Fabio shook his head once. ‘My grandfather Salvatore only kept a few personal clients after he retired and Mrs Caruso was the last. There are bundles of sealed paperwork waiting to be opened but the ball only starts rolling once I make the delivery and the client opens the box and takes the prize.’

‘Didn’t you look inside? I would have.’

‘Look inside? Hell no,’ Fabio choked. ‘My grandfather would come back and haunt me. It could be anything inside that package. And frankly I am not so sure I want to find out. The Carusos are not labelled the smiling assassins for nothing. You won’t find tougher business people. The sooner we can get back to our new business, the better, as far as I am concerned.’

‘Amen to that,’ Jerry replied. ‘Here we go. Lights are on red. If you want to go, go now. I’m parking in that supermarket just around the corner. Be waiting for you there. Best of luck.’

Bunty sat back in her hard wooden chair and swayed a little from side to side as her whole crew of pals and teachers from the convent school and catering college joined in a very loud and very out-of-tune version of ‘Mambo Italiano’ that Elena was playing at full volume in her honour.

Normally the background music would have been Greek bouzouki music or Elena’s favourite classical opera CD, so this really was a special treat. Just for her.

There were wine spillages and salad-dressing smears and breadcrumbs all over the tablecloths, and probably over the new plum-coloured wrap dress Alex had squeezed her into. At some point she had lost her shoe under the table.

Then Fran had presented her with a crown she had made from gold paper and wire and insisted that she wear it as a party princess — at a jaunty angle, of course.

Worse, her make-up was probably a wreck after a brief but intense crying jag after Sister Teresa had made the sweetest speech about how proud her mother would have been of her and what she had achieved, which had everyone in the room reaching for the tissues. There was not a dry eye in the house. Even Alex the strong ‘accidentally’ dropped her napkin on the floor and had to drop out of sight for a couple of minutes to find it.

Bunty glanced up across the tables spread out around the room. It didn’t matter that she looked a mess. Not to her friends and family who had come out on a cold January evening to help her celebrate her birthday.

She grinned across at Maria who was carrying out yet more plates of lamb and roast potatoes. Her friend replied with a jaunty wink as one of the catering students patted her bottom the second the plate hit the table and Maria pretended to squeal, and then sat down heavily on his lap and wrapped her arm around his shoulders.

These were her real friends. Her real family. Girls from the local convent school she had known all of her life and their husbands and boyfriends, pals from the local shops, students she taught at the catering college. All loud, boisterous and having fun. And that was precisely how she liked it. No false pretences here. Real people who shared her life each and every day.

She was so lucky to have them.

A warm glow of happiness and contentment spread from deep inside her like a furnace that pumped the heat from her heart to the very ends of her fingertips. She had never felt so safe and secure. Protected. And cared for and part of a very special community of friends who looked out for one another.

Maybe turning thirty was not so bad after all when she had friends like these in her life. So what if she didn’t have a mega TV career like her cousin Luca? She had something much better.

Bunty leant sideways and rested her head on Alex’s shoulder. ‘Have I said thank you yet for pulling this all together? It’s amazing and I love it.’

Alex laughed out loud and gave her a one-armed hug. ‘Several times. It’s the wine, you know, causes short-term memory loss in older women. I have built up resistance over the years so it takes a lot longer to kick in.’

Then Alex started rubbing her hands together and humming the last verse under her breath. ‘Now. Back to the important stuff. What totally outrageous thing have you decided to do before the end of the day? Remember the rules – it has to be spontaneous, the opposite of what you would normally do, and fun! Points will be awarded for the most ingenious solution!’

‘Dance on the table?’ Bunty suggested, then shook her head and waved her arms around. ‘No. Forget that one. The table legs wouldn’t cope with my current body weight and this food is too good to waste. Something outrageous. Um…’

Then she looked over Alex’s shoulder back towards the entrance to the restaurant and her breath caught in her throat.

Standing not three feet away from her was one of the best-looking men that she had seen in her life. She was five feet nine inches so he had to be at least six feet two inches in his very shiny, slim, smart black shoes. Her gaze tracked up his body before the sensible part of her brain clicked in to stop it.

Slim hips. Broad shoulders. A handmade cashmere and silk business suit in a shade of midnight blue, which was so perfect it made her drool. A tailored white shirt open at the neck. Dark chestnut-brown hair that curled into neat waves, which simply begged to be touched.

‘Hello,’ he said in a rich deep male voice that crossed the air space that separated them and reverberated inside her head. ‘I’m looking for a Bernadette Caruso Brannigan. There was a note stuck to the door at Brannigans deli telling me that the party was at Elena’s. Have I come to the right place?’

He was Italian mixed with a delicious topping of American English. And he had come looking for her.

Bunty whipped around in her seat before Alex caught her open-mouthed staring at the top three buttons on his shirt, which were unfastened, revealing a hint of tanned skin with dark chest hair. Taunting her.

If he dressed like this in January, August would be interesting.

For some reason her breathing had become irregular and she suddenly felt remarkably warm.

‘Oh, Alex,’ she breathed in a low hiss of appreciation. ‘I owe you big time.’

‘This is so true, but what particular thing have I done now?’ Alex replied between mouthfuls of garlic bread.

‘You said there wouldn’t be a male stripper.’

‘Who? What?’ Alex looked up and whirled her head around like a meerkat before it froze in the same direction Bunty was focusing on.

‘Oh. I see what you mean.’ She coughed. ‘Girl, I don’t know who he is, but I think you have just found your challenge. What are you waiting for? He is all yours. Go get him.’

It took Bunty a second to find her shoe and stagger to her feet a little unsteadily but in three strides she slipped behind the other diners. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that her friends were either too busy enjoying themselves to notice, or nudging one another and nodding towards the door.

Little wonder.

Alex or Fran had excelled themselves.

Her Italian treat became more spectacular with each step.

She could almost taste the testosterone he was breathing out in her direction. It was the kind of allure that had worked with cavemen and was still working just fine right now. Which was quite amazing considering it had been quite a while since anyone had fired up her inner cavewoman.

It also made speech a little tricky so she licked her lips and flicked her hair out before hitting him with her best smile.

‘Did I hear you say that you are looking for Bernadette Brannigan?’ she asked in a low voice. ‘Because you have definitely come to the right place.’

His head lifted so that when she was within touching distance she had to look up into a pair of gorgeous caramel-brown eyes. ‘That’s me,’ she said and flicked up one hand coquettishly. ‘But my friends call me Bunty.’ Then she blinked and smiled. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Miss Brannigan,’ he replied, and stretched out his hand to close his fingers around hers. It was only a momentary handshake but long enough for her to recognise soft office-boy skin above a sinewy muscular grip that made all of her girly brain cells go ping. ‘I am sorry to interrupt your meal. Would you mind stepping outside for a moment?’

Outside? Well, this was different. Bunty shot a glance back towards Alex, who was grinning like a loon and waving both hands from the wrist telling her to go.

‘Yes, of course,’ Bunty simpered and waited until he had opened the door before stepping out onto the pavement and waiting for him to follow her.

She whirled around too soon and had the pleasure of feeling the gentlest of touches on her arm.

And he had stunning hands. She had always liked hands. Especially clever, clean, nimble hands. Even if these hands were at that moment drawing a wallet from a very professional-looking black briefcase.

‘Miss Brannigan, my name is Fabio Rossi of the law firm Rossi and Rossi of Milan. I have been instructed by my client to deliver this package to you in person.’

Bunty stared at the black sealed wallet her hunk was holding out towards her, glanced up at the serious expression on his face and then back to the wallet.

And just like that the effects of two hours of wine drinking and general merriment popped like an overstretched balloon and what was left of the rational part of her brain kicked right back in.

Not a male stripper.

Not a birthday present in the shape of a hunky Italian.

He was a lawyer. From Milan.

Nightmare!

‘You’re delivering paperwork? At this time of night? Can’t it wait until tomorrow?’

Bunty gestured with the flat of her hand back towards the noisy party that was still in full swing inside the restaurant. ‘As you can see this is my birthday party. And I am rather occupied at present.’

‘The instructions from our client were very clear. A Rossi lawyer was to deliver this package to Bernadette Caruso Brannigan by the end of the day.’

‘Your client?’ She blinked. ‘What client are you talking about? Please explain before my head explodes.’

‘Rossi and Rossi are the company lawyers for the Caruso family.’

Bunty closed her eyes and pinched the top of her nose. Just when she thought this day could not get any worse.

Luca. It had to be Luca.

Nobody else in the Caruso family gave a damn about her birthday.

He knew that she would be interested in the offer he had made earlier and was only too ready to wave a new contract in front of her nose before she had a chance to change her mind.

Clever boy! But not when she was in the middle of her party.

He held the wallet out towards her and she glared at it in disbelief for a full two seconds before snatching it out of his hand. She had embarrassed herself enough for one night. Time to end this debacle.

‘Right. Job done. You can go now. I can’t deal with you and any contract paperwork tonight. Thank you. Goodbye. Goodnight. Have a nice life.’

He stepped forward so that he was totally inside her personal body space.

‘It’s not quite as simple as that, Miss Brannigan. I have to verify that you have both received and opened the package and read the contents before I can leave.’

‘You have to see me open the package before you go?’ Bunty snorted through her nose. ‘Are you joking me?’

His brown eyes locked onto hers and held them like a rock. ‘Not at all. Those are my instructions. I’m not going anywhere.’

At this distance all she could focus on were the thin pale tan lines radiating out from the corners of his dark caramel eyes and the no doubt designer amount of dark stubble above that full, sensuous upper lip. Dark brown stylishly cut short hair curled around his ears but his eyebrows were naturally thick and manly.

A long, thin, tanned face, dominated by a strong narrow nose, classic cleft chin, fantastic cheekbones. So overall a full score on the male-model-businessman-lawyer look. Fabio was probably a big hit with the lady clients at the law firm he worked for.

Inhaling was a mistake. He smelt of expensive male grooming products, which right at that moment were worth every penny. Her sensitive nose picked up citrus and musky notes above a tang of something that was very much Fabio Rossi.

Then the right side of his mouth turned up into what was probably meant to be a reassuring smile.

And every sensory switch inside her body turned on. Just like that. Completely out of the blue and totally, totally not what she wanted to happen.

Especially not now.

Speech was impossible and for what seemed like minutes, but was probably only seconds, they both stood there in silence. Breathing in air that positively crackled with electricity. Neither of them willing to shift an inch.

It was almost a relief when someone’s mobile phone started ringing.

‘I think it’s yours.’ Fabio blinked, breaking the connection, stepped back and folded his arms.

Bunty turned away, reeling, sucked in some air because apparently she had stopped breathing, bent down, reached into her tiny wrist bag that came with the dress and found the phone in the inside pocket. She flipped open the tiny silver high-tech unit and pressed the receive button as a familiar voice hissed down the line.

‘Sorry to interrupt but are you coming back in?’ Alex whispered. ‘Maria is just about to bring in the birthday cake and we are frightened of the fire risk. You can bring the hunk with you if you like to help you blow out all of the candles.’

‘Be right there,’ she replied and closed down the phone.

Sucking in a long breath of the cold night air, Bunty lifted her head and stared into the face of one of the best-looking men she had ever met in her life.

Hell. Who was she kidding? He was gorgeous. Shame that he was the lawyer working for Luca.

The cold air helped to clear her head so that when she spoke the words came out in some vague order and almost in control.

‘I will try and find the time to look at the paperwork tomorrow. You know where to reach me. Brannigans deli. Just down the street. Goodnight, Mr Rossi.’

And before he had a chance to reply, she clutched hold of the paperwork in one hand and pushed open the door with the other, propelling herself into the room and a loud chorus of cheering.

Leaving Fabio Rossi standing on the pavement outside with a curious smile on his face.