Bachelor By Design: Bachelor By Design / Too Hot For Comfort. Kay David

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ wood, refusing to let this ridiculous conversation slow his progress on the expansion of Café Romeo. A common wall separated the coffeehouse from the now-defunct pizza parlor next door. He’d gutted the pizza parlor and stripped the oppressive red-and-black flocked wallpaper off the walls.

      After spending several weeks remodeling the interior, he felt the place was finally beginning to come together. Just yesterday he’d cut the wide archway in the common wall that connected it to Café Romeo. He’d tacked an oilcloth over the opening to contain the dust, but he could still smell the fragrant aroma of fresh-ground coffee and hear the low murmurs of Aunt Sophie’s customers.

      He stuck the pencil back in his shirt pocket, then glanced at his brother. Noah might have more brawn than Trace, but obviously not as much brain. He was also an inveterate playboy. “Look, Noah, you’ve got to get over this marriage phobia of yours. It isn’t healthy.”

      “And I suppose your plan to have women audition for a chance to be your wife is what you call healthy?”

      “Definitely. I’m planning to marry for keeps. As soon as I find the one who fits all my requirements.”

      Noah visibly shuddered. “Well, I’m going while the going is good.”

      “Going where?”

      “Cleveland, Ohio. I arranged a job transfer there as soon as I found out Aunt Sophie had gotten her hands on our coffee grounds. I don’t want to take any chances.”

      “Don’t you think moving out of state is a little extreme?”

      Noah folded his arms across his chest. “You tell me. Our big brother recently proposed to a woman he’s known less than a month. This is the same man who had a bumper sticker on his car that read Marriage is for Morons. And Aunt Sophie made it happen.” Noah leaned toward him and lowered his voice. “Be afraid, Trace. Be very afraid.”

      “I like Nina,” Trace said in defense of his future sister-in-law. He bent down and picked up the four-foot level off the floor.

      “I like her too. But that doesn’t change the fact that one of Aunt Sophie’s crazy romantic predictions actually came true. And I’m not sticking around to be victim number three.”

      “Number three? Who’s victim number two?”

      “Just take a look in the mirror, pal,” Noah said as he headed for the archway. “You’re bride bait, and Aunt Sophie’s all set to reel one in for you. As soon as Jake and Nina tie the knot, I’m outta here.”

      Trace watched his brother disappear behind the oilcloth. Noah was actually running scared. And for what? Some illogical fear that Aunt Sophie could make him fall in love with a woman against his will?

      Trace wasn’t about to let that happen. He’d be getting married all right, but to a woman of his own choosing. A woman who fit the exact blueprint of the future he wanted to build. And he’d told his aunt that already, in no uncertain terms. She’d taken the news well. He frowned down at the level in his hand. Maybe a little too well. Maybe he should have another talk with her, just in case….

      As if she were truly psychic, Sophie Callahan appeared at that moment, bustling through the makeshift oilcloth door with Café Romeo’s most inefficient waiter in tow.

      “Trace, the place looks absolutely wonderful.” Sophie wore a hot-pink caftan and matching turban. Several gold bangle bracelets adorned each arm, making her sound like a wind chime whenever she moved.

      Trace looked around the barren room. All the old booths had been ripped out, as well as the red shag carpet, leaving the old, worn floorboards bare. Plaster hung in chunks from the ceiling. Wires dangled from the newly installed drywall.

      “There’s still a lot of work left to do. Especially if you want to open this new section in three weeks. I could hire some extra help….”

      “That won’t be necessary,” Sophie interjected. “I’ve got the perfect man for the job.”

      “Who?”

      “Me.” Ramon D’Onofrio stepped forward, his shoulder-length brown hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. He stuck his chin out and folded his arms across his narrow chest.

      Trace swallowed a groan. Not Ramon. Anyone but Ramon.

      “Don’t you already have a job?”

      Ramon turned to Sophie. “I told you he hated me. Didn’t I tell you? I spill one cup of coffee on him and he holds a grudge forever.”

      “I’m sure that’s not true,” Sophie said. “Is it, Trace?”

      Actually, it was damn close to the truth. That coffee Ramon had dumped in his lap had come perilously close to doing permanent damage. Ramon was obviously as dangerous as the rest of the infamous D’Onofrio family. Trace shuddered to think of the havoc Ramon could wreak with a nail gun. “Look, it’s nothing personal. I just prefer to work with people who actually have some experience.”

      “I made a birdhouse in seventh-grade shop class,” Ramon said, widening his puppy brown eyes. “And I’m always doing little repairs around the house.”

      “Hammer something for him,” Sophie said, handing Ramon the sledgehammer on the floor.

      Trace took a cautious step back. “That’s really not…”

      Too late. Ramon took a swing at one of the braces Trace had just installed to reinforce the unstable west wall. Wood splintered as the brace split in two at the impact. The wall creaked ominously and pieces of plaster rained onto the floor.

      “There’s more where that came from,” Ramon said proudly.

      Trace didn’t doubt it for a moment. “I really can’t afford you.”

      “No problem,” Aunt Sophie chimed, picking a chunk of plaster out of her titian hair. “I’ll pay Ramon’s wages. He needs a sabbatical from waiting tables, but I don’t want to lose him.”

      “I just can’t take the stress anymore,” Ramon explained, his voice quivering. “The menu is so complicated and some of the customers can be so rude. You dribble a little coffee on them and they start screaming about lawsuits and third-degree burns.”

      Sophie wrapped one arm around the waiter’s narrow shoulders. “I thought working with his hands would be soothing.”

      Maybe for Ramon, but not for Trace. “How about a vacation instead? You could lie around on a beach somewhere and soak up the sun.”

      “Sand gives me a rash.” Ramon swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his scrawny neck. “For once in my life, I’d just like to be good at something. Just give me a chance.”

      Aunt Sophie leaned toward her nephew and lowered her voice. “Please, Trace. For me.”

      Damn. Now she had him. He’d give his right arm for Sophie if she wanted it. All the Callahan boys owed her for giving up her own career in the carnival to take care of them after their mother had abandoned them.

      But Trace owed her even more.

      That’s why he’d agreed to remodel the addition СКАЧАТЬ