The Playboy of Rome. Jennifer Faye

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СКАЧАТЬ noticed that his answers were vague at best, giving her no clue as to his family life or why he came here to work. Perhaps he needed the money. Still, as she stared across the table at him, his whole demeanor spoke of money and culture. She also couldn’t dismiss the fact that most women would find him alarmingly handsome. In fact, he’d make some real eye candy for the television spot. And if that was what it took to draw in an audience, who was she to argue.

      She’d been earning money cooking since she was fourteen. Of course, being so young, she’d been paid under the table. Over the years, she’d gained more and more experience, but never thinking she’d ever have a shot at owning a restaurant of her own, she’d taken the safe route and gone to college. She’d needed a way to make decent money to keep herself and Jules afloat.

      But then Jules entered her application for a reality TV cooking show. Jules had insisted that she needed to take a risk and follow her dream of being a chef in her own five-star restaurant.

      Winning that reality show had been a huge stepping-stone. It gave her a television contract and a plane ticket to Rome, where she’d learn from the best in the business. Jules was right. Maybe her dream would come true.

      All she needed was to make sure this deal was a success. One way or the other. And if Chef Massimo couldn’t participate then perhaps his grandson would do.

      She eyed him up. “Your grandfather must have taught you all of his secrets in the kitchen.”

      His body noticeably stiffened. “Yes, he did. How else would I keep the place running in his absence?”

      She knew it was akin to poking a sleeping bear with a stick, but she had to confirm her suspicions before she altered her plans ever so slightly. “But do your dishes taste like your grandfather’s?”

      “The customers don’t know the difference.” The indignity in his voice rumbled through the room. “Who do you think took the time to learn every tiny detail of my grandfather’s recipes? My grandfather insisted that if you were going to do something, you should learn to do it right. And there were no shortcuts in his kitchen.”

      From the little she’d known of Massimo, she could easily believe this was true. During their phone conversations, he’d made it clear that he didn’t take shortcuts with his recipes or with training people. She’d have to start from the beginning. Normally, she’d have taken it as an insult, but coming from Massimo, she had the feeling that he only wanted the best for both of them and the television spotlight.

      “Will you continue to run the restaurant alone?”

      Dante ran a hand over his jaw. “Are you always this curious about strangers?”

      She wasn’t about to back off. This information was important and she had learned almost everything she needed. “I’m just trying to make a little conversation. Is that so wrong?”

      There was a look in his eyes that said he didn’t believe her. Still, he didn’t press the subject. Instead he surprised her by answering. “For the foreseeable future I will continue to run Massimo’s. I can’t predict the future.”

      “I still wonder if you’re as good as your grandfather in the kitchen.”

      “Wait here.” He jumped to his feet and strode out of the room.

      Where in the world had he gone? She was tempted to follow, but she thought better of it. She’d already pushed her luck as far as she dared. But her new plan was definitely taking shape.

      The only problem she envisioned was trying to keep her mind on the art of cooking and not on the hottie mentoring her. She knew jet lag was to blame for her distorted worries. A little uninterrupted sleep would have her thinking clearly.

      This arrangement was far too important to ruin due to some sort of crush. She pursed her lips together. No matter how good he looked, she knew better than to let her heart rule her mind. She knew too well the agonizing pain of rejection and abandonment. She wouldn’t subject herself to that again. Not for anyone.

      She pulled her shoulders back and clasped her hands in her lap. Time to put her plan in motion.

      One way or the other.

       CHAPTER THREE

      HOW DARE SHE question his prowess in the kitchen?

      Dante stared down at a plate of pasta alla gricia, one of his favorite dishes. The fine balance of cured pork and pecorino romano gave the pasta a unique, tangy flavor. It was a dish he never grew tired of eating.

      He proceeded to divvy the food between two plates. After all, he didn’t need that much to eat at this late hour. As he arranged the plates, he wondered why he was going to such bother. What was so special about this golden-haired beauty? And why did he feel a compulsion to prove himself where she was concerned?

      It wasn’t as if he was ever going to see Lizzie again. Without his grandfather around to hold up his end of the agreement, she’d be catching the next plane back to New York. Still, before she left, he needed to prove his point. He’d taken some of his grandfather’s recipes and put his own twist on them. And the patrons loved them. This meal was sure not to disappoint the most discerning palate.

      He strode back into the dining room and placed a plate in front of Lizzie. She gazed up at him with a wide-eyed blue gaze. Her mouth gaped as though she were about to say something, but no words came out.

      He stared at her lush lips, painted with a shimmery pink frost. They looked perfectly ripe for a kiss. The urge grew stronger with each passing second. The breath hitched in his throat.

      “This looks delicious.” She was staring at him, not the food. And she was smiling.

      “It’s an old family recipe.” He nearly tripped over his own feet as he moved to the other side of the table. “The secret to the dish is to keep it simple and not be tempted to add extras. You don’t want to detract from the flavor of the meat and cheese.”

      He couldn’t believe he was letting her good looks and charms get to him. It wasn’t as if she was the first beautiful woman he’d entertained. But she was the first that he truly wanted to impress. Safely in his seat, he noticed the smallness of the table. If he wasn’t careful, his legs would brush against hers. If this were a casual date, he’d take advantage of the coziness, but Lizzie was different from the usual women he dated. She was more serious. More intent. And she seemed to have only one thing on her mind—business.

      “Aren’t you going to try it?” Dante motioned to the food. Just because he wasn’t interested in helping her with her dreams of stardom didn’t mean he couldn’t prove his point—he could create magic in the kitchen.

      He watched as she spun the pasta on her fork and slipped it in her mouth. He sat there captivated, waiting for her reaction. When she moaned her approval, his blood pressure spiked and his grip tightened on the fork.

      “This is very good. Did you make it?”

      Her question didn’t fool him. He knew what she was digging at—she wanted him to step up and fill in for his grandfather. Him on television—never. That was his grandfather’s dream—not his.

      “It’s delicious.” She flashed him a big smile, seemingly unfazed by his tight-lipped expression.

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