Educating Gina. Debbi Rawlins

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      It surprised Mike that Gina had attended college. Made him wonder what she planned to do with her education. Probably enter the family business on the Italian end, where they made the wine. It was logical she’d stay there where her father and Antonio’s older brother Guisseppi ran the vineyard and harvested the grapes.

      Other options could keep her in Europe, as well. Antonio’s other brother, Dominic, headed the wine distribution in Paris, and the younger one, Pietro, handled the marketing and warehousing in Rome. Gina would do well on the sales side of things. What red-blooded man wouldn’t want to place an enormous order with her? Sexist, he knew, but it was the reality of the male-dominated business.

      So why did the idea annoy the hell out of him? Why his sudden interest in Gina’s future? He had enough to worry about keeping her out of trouble for the next month. And not getting himself fired.

      He plowed through the paperwork that couldn’t wait, left a voice mail for Robert to contact him as soon as he got back and then grabbed a cab and headed home. If he was going to spend the day in Central Park, it wouldn’t be in a suit.

      GINA SAT ON THE WINDOWSILL, staring down at the crowded sidewalk, watching the streams of people hurry to work. Many of the women wore suits and tennis shoes. An odd but practical combination, she figured, envious of their freedom of choice.

      She wished she owned a suit. Mama thought they looked too manly. As if the ugly black dresses she liked Gina to wear were not too grandmotherly.

      Sighing, she checked her watch. Would Mike ever show up? She hoped he was not angry about yesterday. All her courage had faded when she heard Zio Antonio outside the door, and she panicked. No harm had been done, though. Her uncle thought she had been in her room alone.

      She slid off the sill and adjusted her skirt. Wearing skirts so short was not easy. She was constantly tugging and pulling and trying not to feel self-conscious. Some of her school friends had encouraged her. They wore skirts equally short, some of them even in front of their parents.

      The knock at the door had her tripping over the unfamiliar high heels, and she hopped to the door on one leg, trying to adjust the fit. Before she opened it, she slipped the other shoe back on.

      Mike did not look happy, and her mood fell. “Gina, why didn’t you ask who it was before you opened the door?”

      She shrugged, more interested in the snug fit of his jeans and black T-shirt. “I knew it was you. Zio Antonio said you were coming.”

      His gaze ran down the front of her, something in his eyes making her get hot and prickly. “Since I didn’t call from downstairs for you to buzz me in, you should have been more cautious. Next time find out who it is before you unlock the door. New York is not the safest place.”

      “Why are you trying to frighten me?”

      “I’m just trying to make you more aware.” He walked in and locked the door behind him. “Your uncle told me you wanted to go to Central Park.”

      “Oh, yes. The sky is so blue and pretty. It would be a perfect day, yes?”

      His eyebrows dipped in a frown. “Then why are you dressed like that?”

      She looked down at the pink blouse tied at her waist and denim miniskirt. “You do not like this outfit, either?”

      “I like it fine, but not for a day in the park. What if you want to sit in the grass?”

      “I do not have any pants,” she murmured, and looked away.

      “Pardon me?”

      “Mama does not think women should wear pants.”

      Mike laughed. “And she would want you to wear this?”

      His amusement fueled her embarrassment. Sometimes her parents’ old-fashioned attitude made her ashamed. “No, but I sewed this myself in secret. Pants are harder and take longer to make.”

      Surprise, then understanding flickered in his eyes, and he smiled. “How would you like a pair of jeans?”

      “Oh, yes. The kind with a ripped knee or—”

      He chuckled. “Let’s get a whole pair for now, okay?”

      WHY DID HE SET himself up for this kind of torture? Mike had never had masochistic tendencies before now. Why had he foolishly thought shopping would be easy with a woman who looked like Gina?

      “What about these?” She pranced out of the dressing room and twirled around so that he wouldn’t miss the back view. “Do you like them?”

      The faded denim was skintight and accentuated her narrow waist and full hips. Her belly was remarkably flat, considering how he’d seen her wolf down the entire cheeseburger and fries yesterday. Her rear end was round and perfect and begged for a man’s hands—his hands—to mold themselves over the taut curves.

      “Mike, are you all right?” she asked, a worried frown wrinkling her brow.

      As soon as his heart started again, he’d be fine. “I like the other pair better.”

      “But they were too baggy.”

      Exactly. “Can you even sit down in those?”

      She grinned and walked toward him. “Do you want to see?”

      Mike held up a hand. “Never mind.”

      No telling what she’d do. He was sitting in the only seat outside the women’s dressing room, which made his lap the likely target for her demonstration. Oh, yeah, that would be great. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t attracted enough attention from the other Bloomingdale shoppers.

      Both men and women eyed Gina as she modeled the different styles of jeans. She seemed oblivious to the mixture of envy and admiration in their stares. She was too excited about the whole prospect of shopping.

      “I have one more pair to try on.” She spun toward the dressing-room door, then stopped and asked, “May I have two pairs? Per piacere…please?”

      If he said no, two guys, who hadn’t once taken their eyes off her, would probably gladly buy her anything she wanted. A woman about his age who’d overheard Gina gave Mike a hostile look as if he was a vile controlling husband.

      “Fine. Just hurry up.” He stood and got out his wallet. Antonio had given him a nice piece of change. Enough for the jeans and a dress—an appropriate dress, like maybe a muumuu. Hell, Mike would gladly pay for it himself.

      She came out to show him the third pair, which looked so much like the last pair that he didn’t know she’d changed. At Gina’s request, the saleswoman cut off the tags so she could wear them out of the store.

      After their purchases were wrapped and paid for, they headed for the escalator. They got as far as the lingerie department. Gina stopped and stared at the red and black silk G-strings on display.

      Fear gripped the back of Mike’s neck. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”

      Her eyes widened. “Central Park closes?”

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