The Vineyards Of Calanetti. Rebecca Winters
“Sure, something like general manager should warrant a raise big enough that I can afford my own place.”
His eyes widened. “General manager?”
“Come on, Rafe. Let’s get to the bottom line here. If things work out when we return to Mancini’s, I’m going to be taking on a huge chunk of your work. I’m also going to be relocating to another country. You’ll need to make it worth my while.”
He shook his head. “Dear God, you are bossy.”
“But I’m right.”
He sighed. “Fine. But if you’re getting that title, you will earn it.”
She inclined her head. “Seems fair.”
“You’ll learn to order supplies, check deliveries, do the job of managing things Emory and I don’t have time for.”
“Makes perfect sense.”
He sighed. His eyes narrowed. “Anything else?”
She laughed. “One more thing.” Her laughter became a silly giggle when he scowled at her. “A ride back to Louisa’s.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes. I will drive you back to Louisa’s. If you wish, I will even help you find an apartment.”
Leaving the rose, she stood and pushed away from the table. “You keep getting ahead of things. We have two weeks for me to figure out if staying at Mancini’s is right for me.” She turned to head back to the hotel to check out, but spun to face him again. “Were I you, I’d be on my best behavior.”
* * *
The next morning, she called Paul. If staying in Italy was the rest of her life, the real rest of her life, she had to make things right.
“Do you know what time it is?”
She could hear the sleep in his voice and winced. “Yes. Sorry. But I wanted to catch you before work.”
“That’s fine.”
She squeezed her eyes shut as she gathered her courage. It seemed so wrong to break up with someone over the phone and, yet, they’d barely spoken to each other in six months. This was the right thing to do.
“Look, Paul, I’m sorry to tell you this over the phone, but I can’t accept your marriage proposal.”
“What?”
She could almost picture him sitting up in bed, her bad news bringing him fully awake.
“I’m actually thinking of not coming back to New York at all, but staying in Italy.”
“What? What about your job?”
“I have a new job.”
“Where?”
“At a restaurant.”
“So you’re leaving teaching to be a waitress?”
“A hostess.”
“Oh, there’s a real step up.”
“Actually, I’m general manager,” she said, glad she’d talked Rafe into the title. She couldn’t blame Paul for being confused or angry, and knew he deserved an honest explanation.
“And I love Italy. I feel like I belong here.” She sucked in a breath. “We’ve barely talked in six months. I’m going to make a wild guess that you haven’t even missed me. I think we were only together because it was convenient.”
Another man’s silence might have been interpreted as misery. Knowing Paul the way she did, she recognized it as more or less a confirmation that she was right.
“I’m sorry not to accept your proposal, but I’m very happy.”
After a second, he said, “Okay, then. I’m glad.”
The breath blew back into her lungs. “Really?”
“Yeah. I did think we’d make a good married couple, but I knew when you didn’t say yes immediately that you might have second thoughts.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. This is just the way life works sometimes.”
And that was her pragmatic Paul. His lack of emotion might have made her feel secure at one time, but now she knew she needed more.
They talked another minute and Dani disconnected the call, feeling as if a weight had been taken from her shoulders, only to have it quickly replaced by another one. She’d had to be fair to Paul, but now the only defense she’d have against Rafe’s charms would be her own discipline and common sense.
She hoped that was enough.
HER RETURN TO the restaurant was as joyous as a celebration. Emory grinned. The waitresses fawned over her. The busboys grew red faced. The chefs breathed a sigh of relief.
Annoyance worked its way through Rafe. Not that he didn’t want his staff to adore her. He did. That was why she was back. The problem was he couldn’t stop reliving their meeting in Rome. He’d said everything that he’d wanted to say. That he’d missed her. That he wanted her back. But he’d kept it all in the context of business. He’d missed her help. He wanted her to become the face of Mancini’s. He didn’t want anything romantic with her because he didn’t want to hurt her. He’d been all business. And it had worked.
But with her return playing out around him, his heart rumbled at the injustice. He hadn’t lied when he said he didn’t want her back for himself, that he didn’t want something romantic between them. His fierce protection of Mancini’s wouldn’t let him get involved with an employee he needed. But here at the restaurant, with her looking so pretty, helping make his dream a reality, he just wanted to kiss her.
He reminded himself that she had a fiancé—
A fiancé she admitted was not the perfect guy.
Bah! That fiancé was supposed to be the key weapon in his arsenal of ways to keep himself away from her. Her admission that he wasn’t perfect, even the fact that she was considering staying in Italy, called her whole engagement into question. And caused all his feelings for her to surface and swell.
She swept into the kitchen. Wearing a blue dress that highlighted her blue eyes and accented a figure so lush she was absolutely edible, she glided over to Emory. He took her hands and kissed the back of both.
“You look better than anything on the menu.”
Rafe sucked in a breath, controlling the unwanted ripple of longing.
Dani unexpectedly stepped toward Emory, put her arms around him and hugged him. Emory closed his eyes as if to savor it, a smile lifted his lips.
Rafe’s yearning intensified, but with it came a tidal wave of jealousy. He lowered his knife on an unsuspecting stalk of celery, chopping it with unnecessary force.
Dani faced him. “Why don’t you give me the key and I’ll open the front door for the lunch crowd?”
He rolled his gaze toward her slowly. Even as the businessman inside him cheered her return, the jealous man who was filled with need wondered if he wasn’t trying to drive himself insane.
“Emory, give her your key.”
The sous-chef instantly fished his key ring out of his pocket and dislodged the key for Mancini’s. “Gladly.”
“Don’t be so joyful.” He glanced at Dani again, at the soft yellow hair framing her face, her happy blue eyes. “Have a key made for yourself this afternoon and return Emory’s to him.”
She smiled. “Will do, boss.”