Ordinary Girl, Millionaire Tycoon. Darlene Gardner

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ Art Sandusky. Can I help you?”

      “Hi,” she said brightly. “My name’s Kaylee Carter, and I’m here about the cashier’s job you advertised in the McIntosh Weekly.”

      A tremendous crash from the next aisle interrupted whatever he’d been about to say. His brows drew together. “I wonder what that was.”

      Kaylee looked wildly about for Joey, didn’t find him and had a pretty good guess. Together she and Art Sandusky rounded the corner of the next aisle. Her son stood beside broken pickle jars and a young girl in an apron. The smell of dill and vinegar was nearly overpowering.

      “What happened?” Art Sandusky asked.

      “The kid asked me if I wanted to see something cool. Then he reached in his pocket and pulled out a toad.” The girl shuddered. “It jumped on me.”

      “It didn’t mean nothing by it,” Joey said. The toad leaped into view and Joey scrambled away in pursuit.

      The job hunt didn’t go much better after that. Art Sandusky was a doll about the breakage, insisting it had been an accident and refusing to accept payment. But he’d also hired a cashier three days ago.

      Kaylee’s next stop was a deli-style restaurant that hadn’t advertised for help and turned out not to need any. The owner probably wouldn’t have hired her anyway after Joey bumped into a waiter carrying a tray of drinks. Two customers got drenched, but Joey came away dry as desert sand.

      “Do you know of anyplace else that might be looking?” she asked the tired-looking man who emerged from the kitchen to clean up the mess.

      “You might try Nunzio’s,” he said as he swished the mop back and forth. “It’s the only other restaurant in town with table service.”

      Kaylee’s palms grew damp and her heart sped up. Her impulse had been to make Nunzio’s her first stop, but she’d deliberately steered clear of the restaurant where Sofia Donatelli had once worked.

      Getting established before confronting Sofia had seemed like the smartest plan, but now she needed to be a realist. She couldn’t stay in McIntosh for long without a job. Applying for a waitress job at Nunzio’s made perfect sense.

      Her heart raced when she grabbed her son’s hand, because every step she took brought her closer to the woman who could be her mother.

      “C’mon, Joe-Joe,” Kaylee said. “We’re going to Nunzio’s.”

      ANOTHER DAY, another impostor. This one had brought her son along.

      Tony saw her as soon as he entered Nunzio’s, the most logical place in McIntosh to meet with a stranger. The place not only smelled wonderful—a mouthwatering mixture of tomato sauce, garlic bread and spices—but the homey atmosphere was inviting. Checkered red-and-white tablecloths covered the booths and tables, and scenic vistas of Italy decorated the walls.

      Tony had suggested meeting at three o’clock, because it was between lunch and dinner. The only people in the restaurant were an elderly couple sitting at a corner table near the entrance, a young boy of about five or six and the woman.

      The woman sat with the boy in a rear booth, although the latest in the string of females he mentally referred to as “the Connies” hadn’t said anything about bringing her son.

      Yesterday’s Connie had been a petite bleached blonde he’d frightened off with surprising ease. When Sofia was in the restroom, he’d threatened to investigate her background for past crimes and outstanding warrants. She’d bolted when he got to the part about pressing charges against her for fraud.

      Although Tony had been in McIntosh for nearly a week, this would be his first meeting with a Connie without Sofia present. He’d set this one up on the sly, wanting to spare his stepmother more disappointment.

      At least this Connie looked the part.

      Long, wavy hair more black than brown set off by an orangey knit sweater. Eyes he could tell were nearly that dark even from across the room. Features that didn’t fit America’s cookie-cutter notion of beauty but that Tony found much more intriguing. Even the Mediterranean cast of her skin was right.

      By contrast the boy looked all-American, from his tousled mop of brownish hair to his inability to sit still. The latest Connie had been smart enough to seat the boy on her side of the booth with her body hemming him in.

      She looked up, and he realized he’d been staring for a good thirty seconds. Their eyes connected, and his body reacted with an unexpected tug of lust.

      He frowned. The Connie was most likely married. Even if she wasn’t, he had serious questions about her character. He’d place the odds of her being Sofia’s daughter at a million to one. The odds were probably higher that she already knew that.

      Shoving aside his momentary lapse, he walked purposefully toward her. He couldn’t miss the slight widening of her eyes when he didn’t stop until he reached their booth.

      “I’m Tony. Mind if I sit down?”

      Without waiting for permission, he slid into the red vinyl seat opposite them. Her mouth dropped open, but the little guy piped up before she could speak.

      “I’m Joey.” He had a chocolate milk mustache and a cowlick that caused his short hair to spring up in unexpected directions. “Wanna see a toad?”

      Shock appeared on his mother’s face, infusing it with life. “Joey! I thought you let the toad go.”

      “I did,” the boy said with an unhappy pout. “But I bet I could find him again.”

      “I’d have liked to see him. I used to catch toads all the time when I was a kid.” Tony stuck out a hand to the boy. “Is it okay if I call you Joe? You look more like a Joe than a Joey.”

      “Sure.” The boy beamed at him, displaying twin dimples that made him look like an imp. He placed his small hand in Tony’s and shook with surprising firmness. Then he grinned at his mom. “Hey, Mom, he’s cool.”

      Tony transferred his gaze to the Connie. Her features were even more intriguing up close. Her nose was long with a little bump on the bridge, her cheekbones high, her lips full, her front two teeth separated by a very slight gap. Her lashes weren’t particularly long but they were thick and as dark as her finely arched brows.

      His eyes dipped to the bare ring finger of her left hand. When they returned to her face, her midnight-dark eyes narrowed.

      He got the distinct impression she didn’t agree with her son’s assessment of his coolness. Tough. She should understand straight off the bat that she couldn’t con him.

      “Let’s not waste time,” he said. “Tell me your story.”

      “Who are you?” she asked.

      “He already told you, Mom,” the boy interjected helpfully. “He’s Tony.”

      “I thought Mr. Nunzio’s first name was Frankie.”

      “It is,” Tony said, wondering where she was going with this.

      “If you’re not the restaurant СКАЧАТЬ