Читать книгу The Vineyards Of Calanetti - Rebecca Winters - Страница 41
ОглавлениеTHE NEXT MORNING, Rafe was in the dining room when Dani used her key to unlock the front door and enter Mancini’s. Around him, the waitresses and busboys busily set up tables. The wonderful aromas of his cooking filled the air. But when she walked in, Dani brought the real life to the restaurant. Dressed in a red sweater with a black skirt and knee-high boots, she was just the right combination of sexy and sweet.
And she’d rejected him the night before.
Even though she’d broken up with her man in America.
Without saying good morning, without as much as meeting her gaze, he turned on his heel and walked into the kitchen to the prep tables where he inspected the handiwork of two chefs.
He waved his hand over the rolled-out dough for a batch of ravioli. “This is good.”
He tasted some sauce, inclined his head, indicating it was acceptable and headed for his workstation.
Emory scrambled over behind him. “Is Daniella here?”
“Yes.” But even before Rafe could finish the thought, she pushed open the swinging doors to the kitchen and entered. She strolled to his prep table, cool and nonchalant as if nothing had happened between them.
But lots had happened between them. He’d kissed her. And she’d told him she didn’t have a fiancé. Then she’d run. Rejecting him.
“Good morning.”
He forced his gaze to hers. His eyes held hers for a beat before he said, “Good morning.”
Emory caught her hands. “Did you enjoy your dinner?”
She laughed. “It was excellent.” She met Rafe’s gaze again. “Our chef is extraordinary.”
His heart punched against his ribs. How could a man not take that as a compliment? She hadn’t just eaten his food the night before. She’d returned his kiss with as much passion and fervor as he’d put into it.
Emory glowed. “This we know. And we count on you to make sure every customer knows.”
“Oh, believe me. I’ve always been able to talk up the food from the bites you’ve given me. But eating an entire serving has seared the taste of perfection in my brain.”
Emory grinned. “Great!”
“I think our real problem will be that I’ll start stealing more bites and end up fat as a barrel.”
Emory laughed but Rafe looked away, remembering his question from the night before. Are you watching your weight? One memory took him back to the scene, the mood, the moment. How nervous she’d seemed. How she’d jumped when his hand had brushed her back. How her jitters had disappeared while they were kissing and didn’t return until they’d stopped.
Because she had to tell him about her fiancé.
She wasn’t engaged.
She had responded to him.
Emory laughed. “Occupational hazard.”
Her gaze ambled to Rafe’s again. All they’d had the night before was a taste of what could be between them. Yes, he knew he’d warned her off. But she’d still kissed him. He’d given her plenty of time to move away, but she’d stayed. Knowing his terms—that he didn’t want a relationship—she’d accepted his kiss.
With their gazes locked, she couldn’t deny it. He could see the heat in her blue eyes.
“From here on out, when we create a new dish or perfect an old one,” Emory continued, oblivious to the nonverbal conversation she and Rafe were having, “you will sample.”
“I want her to have more than a sample.”
The words sprang from him without any thought. But he wouldn’t take them back. He no longer wanted an affair with her. He now longed for it, yearned for it in the depths of his being. And they were adults. They weren’t kids. Love affairs were part of life. She might get hurt, or because they were both lovers and coworkers, she might actually understand him. His life. His time constraints. His passion for his dream—
She might be the perfect lover.
The truth of that rippled through him. It might not be smart to gamble with losing her, but he didn’t think he’d lose her. In fact, he suddenly, passionately believed a long-term affair was the answer to their attraction.
“And I know more than a sample would be bad for me.” She shifted her gaze to Emory before smiling and walking out of the kitchen.
Rafe shook his head and went back to his cooking. He had no idea if she was talking about his food or the subtle suggestion of an affair he’d made, but if she thought that little statement of hers was a deterrent, she was sadly mistaken.
Never in his life had he walked away from something he really wanted and this would not be an exception. Especially since he finally saw how perfect their situation could be.
* * *
Dani walked out of the kitchen and pressed her hand to her jumpy stomach. Those silver-gray eyes could get more across in one steamy look than most men could in foreplay.
To bolster her confidence, which had flagged again, she reminded herself of her final thoughts as she’d fallen asleep the night before. Rafe was a mercurial man. Hot one minute. Cold the next. And for all she knew, he could seduce her one day and dump her the next. She needed security. Mancini’s could be that security. She would not risk that for an affair. No matter how sexy his eyes were when he said it. How deep his voice.
She walked to the podium. Two couples awaited. She escorted them to a table. As the day wore on, customer after customer chatted with her about their tours or, if they were locals, their homes and families. The waitstaff laughed and joked with each other. The flow of people coming in and going out, eating, serving, clearing tables surrounded her, reminded her that this was why she wanted to stay in Italy, at Mancini’s. Not for a man, a romance, but for a life. The kind of interesting, fun, exciting life she’d never thought she’d get.
She wanted this much more than she wanted a fling that ended in a broken heart and took away the job she loved.
At the end of the night, Emory came out with the white pay envelopes. He passed them around and smiled when he gave one to Dani. “This will be better than last time.”
“So my raise is in here?”
“Yes.” He nodded once and strode away.
Dani tucked the envelope into her skirt pocket and helped the waitresses with cleanup. When they were done, she grabbed her coat, not wanting to tempt fate by being the only remaining employee when Rafe came out of the kitchen.
She walked to her car, aware that Rafe’s estimation of her worth sat by her hip, half afraid to open it. He had to value her enough to pay her well or she couldn’t stay. She would not leave the security of her teaching job and an apartment she could afford, just to be scraping by in a foreign country, no matter how much she loved the area, its people and especially her job.
After driving the car into a space in Louisa’s huge garage, Dani entered the house through the kitchen.
Louisa sat at the table, enjoying her usual cup of tea before bedtime. “How did it go? Was he nice? Was he romantic? Or did he ignore you?”
Dani slipped off her coat. “He hinted that we should have an affair.”
“That’s not good.”
“Don’t worry. I’m not letting him change the rules he made in Rome. He said that for us to work together there could be nothing between us.” She sucked in a breath. “So he can’t suddenly decide it’s okay for us to have an affair.”
Louisa studied her. “I think you’re smart to keep it that way, but are you sure it’s what you want?”
“Yes. Today customers reminded me of why I love this job. Between lunch and dinner, I worked with Emory to organize the schedule for ordering supplies and streamline it. He showed me a lot of the behind-the-scenes jobs it takes to make Mancini’s work. Every new thing I see about running a restaurant seems second nature to me.”
“And?”
“And, as I’ve thought all along, I have instincts for the business. This could be more than a job for me. It could be a real career. If Rafe wants to risk that by making a pass at me, I think I have the reasoning set in my head to tell him no.”
Louisa’s questioning expression turned into a look of joy. “So you’re staying?”
“Actually—” she waved the envelope “—it all depends on what’s in here. If my salary doesn’t pay me enough for my own house or condo, plus food and spending money, I can’t stay.”
Louisa crossed her fingers for luck. “Here’s hoping.”
Dani shook her head. “You know, you’re so good to me I want to stay just for our friendship.”
Louise groaned. “Open the darned thing already!”
She sliced a knife across the top of the envelope. When she saw the amount of her deposit, she sat on the chair across from Louisa. “Oh, my God.”
Louisa winced. “That bad?”
“It’s about twice what I expected.” She took a breath. “What’s he doing?”
Louisa laughed. “Trying to keep you?”
“The amount is so high that it’s actually insulting.” She rose from her seat, grabbed her coat and headed for the door. “Half this check would have been sufficient to keep me. This amount? It’s—offensive.” Almost as if he was paying her to sleep with him. She couldn’t bring herself to say the words to Louisa. But how coincidental was it that he’d dropped hints that he wanted to have an affair, then paid her more money than she was worth?
The insult of it vibrated through her. The nerve of that man!
“Where are you going?”
“To toss this back in his face.”
Yanking open the kitchen door, she bounded out into the cold, cold garage. She jumped into the old car and headed back to Monte Calanetti, parking on a side street near the building where Rafe had shown her the almost-perfect condo.
But as she strode into the lobby, she remembered she needed a key to get into the elevator that would take her to the penthouse. Hoping to ask the doorman for help, she groaned when she saw the desk was empty.
Maybe she should take this as a sign that coming over here was a bad idea?
She sucked in a breath. No. Their situation was too personal to talk about at Mancini’s. And she wanted to yell. She wanted to vent all her pent-up frustrations and maybe even throw a dish or two. She had to talk to him now. Alone.
She walked over to the desk and eyed the phone. Luckily, one of the marked buttons said Penthouse. She lifted the receiver and hit the button.
After only one ring, Rafe answered. “Hello?”
She sucked in a breath. “It’s me. Daniella. I’m in your lobby and don’t know how to get up to your penthouse.”
“Pass the bank of elevators we used to get to the condo I showed you and turn right. I’ll send my elevator down for you.”
“Don’t I need a key?”
“I’ll set it to return. You just get in.”
She did as he said, walking past the first set of elevators and turning to find the one for the penthouse. She stepped through the open doors and they swished closed behind her.
Riding up in the elevator with its modern gray geometric-print wallpaper and black slate floors, she was suddenly overwhelmed by something she hadn’t considered, but should have guessed.
Rafe was a wealthy man.
Watching the doors open to an absolutely breathtaking home, she tried to wrap her brain around this new facet of Rafe Mancini. He wasn’t just sexy, talented and mercurial. He was rich.
And she was about to yell at him? She, who’d always been poor? Always three paychecks away from homelessness? She’d never, ever considered that maybe the reason he didn’t think anything permanent would happen between them might be because they were so different. They lived in two different countries. They had two different belief systems. And now she was seeing they came from two totally different worlds.
Rafe walked around a corner, holding two glasses of wine.
“Chianti.” He handed one to her and motioned to the black leather sofa in front of a stacked stone fireplace in the sitting area.
Unable to help herself, she glanced around, trepidation filling her. Big windows in the back showcased the winking lights of the village. The black chairs around a long black dining room table had white upholstered backs and cushions. Plush geometric-patterned rugs sat on almost-black hardwood floors. The paintings on the pale gray walls looked ancient—valuable.
It was the home of a wealthy, wealthy man.
“Daniella?”
And maybe that’s why he thought he could influence her with money? Because she came from nothing.
That made her even angrier.
She straightened her shoulders, caught his gaze. “Are you trying to buy me off?”
“Buy you off?”
“Get me to stop saying no to a relationship by bribing me with a big, fat salary?”
He laughed and fell to the black sofa. “Surely this is a first. An employee who complains about too much money.” He shook his head with another laugh. “You said you wanted to be compensated for relocating. You said you wanted to be general manager. That is what a general manager makes.”
“Oh.” White-hot waves of heat suffused her. Up until this very second, everything that happened with reference to her job at Mancini’s had been fun or challenging. He pushed. She pushed back. He wanted her for his restaurant. She made demands. But holding the check, hearing his explanation, everything took on a reality that had somehow eluded her. She was general manager of a restaurant. This was her salary.
He patted the sofa. “Come. Sit.”
She took a few steps toward the sofa, but the lights of the village caught her attention and the feeling of being Alice in Wonderland swept through her.
“I never in my wildest dreams thought I’d make this much money.”
“Well, teachers are notoriously underpaid in America, and though you’d studied a few things that might have steered you to a more lucrative profession, you chose to be a teacher.”
Her head snapped up and she turned to face him. “How do you know?”
He batted a hand. “Do I look like an idiot? Not only did I do due diligence in investigating your work history, but also I took a look at your college transcripts. Do you really think I would have given you such an important job if you didn’t have at least one university course in accounting?”
“No.” Her gaze on him, she sat on the far edge of the sofa.
His voice became soft, indulgent. “Perhaps in the jumble of everything that’s been happening I did not make myself clear. I’ve told you that I intend to be one of the most renowned chefs in Europe. I can’t do that from one restaurant outside an obscure Tuscan village. My next restaurant will be in Rome. The next in Paris. The next in London. I will build slowly, but I will build.”
“You’d leave Mancini’s?” Oddly, the thought actually made her feel better.
“I will leave Mancini’s in Tuscany when I move to Rome to build Mancini’s Rome.” He frowned. “I thought I told you this.” His frown deepened. “I know for sure I told you that Mancini’s was only a stepping stone.”
“You might have mentioned it.” But she’d forgotten. She forgot everything but her attraction to him when he was around. She’d accused him of using promotions to cover his feelings for her. But she’d used her feelings for him to block what was really going on with her job, and now, here she was, in a job so wonderful she thought she might faint from the joy of it.
“With you in place I can move to the next phase of my business plan. But there’s a better reason for me to move on. You and I both worry that if we do something about our attraction, you will be hurt when it ends and Mancini’s will lose you.” He smiled. “So I fix.”
“You fix?”
“I leave. Once I start my second restaurant, you will not have to deal with me on a day-to-day basis.” His smile grew. “And we will understand each other because we’ll both work in the same demanding profession. You will understand if I cancel plans at the last minute.”
This time the heat that rained down on her had nothing to do with embarrassment. He’d really thought this through. Like a man willing to shift a few things because he liked her.
“Oh.”
“There are catches.”
Her gaze jumped to his. “Catches?”
“Yes. I will be using you for help creating the other restaurants. To scout sites. To hire staff. To teach them how to create our atmosphere. That is your real talent.” He held her gaze. “That is also why your salary is so high. You are a big part of Mancini’s success. You created that atmosphere. I want it not just in one restaurant, but all of them, and you will help me get it.”
The foster child taught not to expect much out of life, the little girl who learned manners only by mimicking what she saw in school, the Italian tourist who borrowed Louisa’s clothes and felt as though she was playing dress up every day she got ready for work, that girl quivered with happiness at the compliment.
The woman who’d been warned by him that he would hurt her struggled with fear.
“You didn’t just create a great job for me. You cleared the way for us to have an affair.”
Rafe sighed. “Why are you so surprised? You’re beautiful. You’re funny. You make me feel better about myself. My life. Yes, I want you. So I figured out a way I could have you.”
She sucked in a breath. It was heady stuff to see the lengths he was willing to go to be with her. And she also saw the one thing he wasn’t saying.
“You like me.”
“What did you think? That I’d agonize this much over someone I just wanted to sleep with?”
She smiled. “You agonized?”
He batted a hand in dismissal. “You’re a confusing woman, Daniella.”
“And you’ve gone to some pretty great lengths to make sure we can...see each other.”
His face turned down into his handsome pout. “And you should appreciate it.”
She did. She just didn’t know how to handle it.
“Is it so hard to believe I genuinely like you?”
“No.” She just never expected he would say it. But he said it easily. And the day would probably come when those feelings would expand. He truly liked her and she was so in love with him that her head spun. This was not going to be an affair. He was talking about a relationship.
Happiness overwhelmed her and she couldn’t resist. She set her wineglass on the coffee table and scooted beside him.
* * *
A warm, syrupy feeling slid through Rafe. But on its heels was the glorious ping of arousal. Before he realized what she was about to do, she kissed him. Quick and sweet, her lips met his. When she went to pull back, he slid his hand across her lower back and hauled her to him. He deepened their kiss, using his tongue to tempt her. Nibbling her lips. Opening his mouth over hers until she responded with the kind of passion he’d always known lived in her heart.
He pulled away. “You play with fire.”
Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. Temptation roared through him and all his good intentions to take it slowly with her melted like snow in April. He could have her now. In this minute. He could take what he greedily wanted.
She drew a breath. “How is it playing with fire if we really, really like each other?”
She was killing him. Sitting so warm and sweet beside him, tempting him with what he wanted before she was ready.
Still, though it pained him, he knew the right thing to do.
“So we will do this right. When you are ready, when you trust me, we will take the next step.”
Her gaze held his. “When I trust you?”
“Sì. When I feel you trust me enough to understand why we can be lovers, you will come to my bed.”
Her face scrunched as she seemed to think all that through. “Wait...this is just about becoming lovers?”
“Yes.”
“But you just said you wouldn’t worry that much about someone you wanted to sleep with.” She caught his gaze. “You said you agonized.”
“Because we will not be a one-night stand. We will be lovers. Besides, I told you. I don’t do relationships.”
“You also said that you’d never have a romance with an employee.” She met his gaze. “But you changed that rule.”
“I made accommodations. I made everything work.”
“Not for me! I don’t just want a fling! I want something that’s going to last.”
His eyebrows rose. “Something that will last?” He frowned. “Forever?”
“Forever!”
“I tried forever. It did not work for me.”
“You tried?”
“Sì.”
“And?”
“And it ended badly.” He couldn’t bring himself to explain that he’d been shattered, that he’d almost given up his dream for a woman who had left him, that he’d been a ball of pain and confusion until he pulled himself together and realized his dreams depended on him not trusting another woman with his heart or so much of his life.
“Cara, marriage is for other people. It’s full of all kinds of things incompatible with the man I have to be to be a success.”
“You never want to get married?”
“No!” He tossed his hands. “What I have been saying all along? Do you not listen?”
She stood up. The pain on her face cut through him like a knife. Though he suddenly wondered why. He’d always known she wanted security. He’d always known he couldn’t give it to her. He couldn’t believe he’d actually tried to get her to accept less than what she needed.
He rose, too. “Okay, let’s forget this conversation happened. It’s been a long day. I’m tired. I also clearly misinterpreted things. Come to Mancini’s tomorrow as general manager.”
She took two steps back. “You’re going to keep me, even though I won’t sleep with you?”
“Yes.” But the sadness that filled him confused him. He’d had other women tell him no and he’d walked away unconcerned. Her no felt like the last page of a favorite book, the end of something he didn’t want to see end. And yet he knew she couldn’t live with his terms and he couldn’t live with hers.
