Hired:The Italian's Bride

Mari leaned forward slightly, her lips parting, close enough to feel Luca’s breath mingle with hers…

“Mr. Fiori? Your table is waiting.”

Mari stepped back, her cheeks heating. Luca’s arm tightened around her waist and the contact sizzled to her toes.

“Thank you.”

Mariella turned around, holding her breath. She was sure now that the gossip mill was probably running overtime ever since she’d been in Luca’s suite at nine in the morning. But the hostess’s lips dropped open and her eyes lit. “Oh, Ms. Ross! Look at you! You look like a movie star.” Realizing her impertinence, she sighed. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Mariella smiled, feeling it light from her toes. “Don’t be sorry,” Luca answered. “I agree with you. Shall we?”

The hostess led the way into the private dining alcove, the red velvet drapes held back by gold cord. Their table waited, champagne already chilled and ready to pour. As she sat, she beamed up at him. “Luca, this is amazing. I’ve never seen anything quite like it, you know. I certainly never expected it here. In what was the Bow Valley Inn.”

He poured the champagne, handing each of them a glass. “To remarkable transformations,” he murmured, touching his rim to hers.

Glasses clinked and Mari drank the dry, fizzy champagne, feeling more with every moment that she was in a dream…a good one this time…and that at any moment she’d awake and the spell would be broken.

First courses arrived, then second; more champagne was drunk and Mari made sure she put her glass down more frequently as things grew fuzzy and warm around the edges. Luca laughed as he recounted stories of his youth with Gina; escapades with each other and Luca’s winery friend Dante who to all accounts sounded like a rebel and usually in the middle of any trouble. She alternated between feeling a beautiful sense of belonging at being privy to the memories, and an acute sadness of the sort of childhood she’d missed. She didn’t have any of the sorts of memories they did, of close times and scrapes and fun. Then Luca laughed and touched her hand beneath the table and she shook off any lingering sadness. She’d learned to live in the moment a long time ago. This was no time to start having regrets or wishing for what had never been.

They were served dark chocolate terrine drizzled with raspberry coulis when Luca leaned forward and captured Mari’s hand.

Mari sat up straighter, startled at the sudden, personal gesture. But Luca was completely sincere as he squeezed Mari’s fingers.

“When I arrived, I only wanted to do one thing—transform the hotel into something more Fiori. But my time here has been so much more, Mari, and I have you to thank for that.”

Mari couldn’t reply. Her gaze darted to Luca’s; his gaze was sincere. It was no protestation of love, but only a fool would expect such a thing. His statement was absolutely correct. It had been more than either of them expected. She would have to be happy with that. Luca was not in love with her. And she’d get over him in time. She would.

But she returned the handclasp with as much warmth as she had inside her. “It has been a pleasure getting to know you, Luca. And getting to know myself better. I owe you so much. I’m only sorry I don’t know how to repay you.”

She had fought him tooth and nail in the beginning. And then somehow he’d gotten under her skin and she’d let him see a side of her she’d never revealed to anyone before. And in trusting him, she’d fallen in love with him.

Dessert was over, and the last bit had felt like a goodbye. Mari moved to collect her handbag, but Luca put out a hand. “Where are you going?”

She looked up, confused. “Home? I thought dinner was over.”

Luca tugged on her arm gently, pulling her closer. “I’m not ready for it to end yet.”

With his free hand he reached out and flicked the ties on the drapes, closing them in a cocoon of velvet and candlelight.

“Luca—”

“I need to say something here,” he interrupted whatever it was she was going to say. “I’m sorry about yesterday morning, Mariella. I was unbearable and I have no excuse. I can only say that I meant well and realize now how it must have seemed to you.”

She would not cry. She wouldn’t spoil this beautiful evening with tears, no matter how angry or hurt she’d been only hours before. The moment he had kissed her cheeks tonight she’d known that yesterday morning hadn’t been real. He’d been putting on a show. A very effective one. His apology meant more than he knew.

Their bodies hovered closer together, but Mari resisted the urge to take the one step necessary to be pressed against him. “It was a lot to take in at once, Luca. I was hurt by your behavior, but only because I understood. My story isn’t the stuff of polite chitchat. Your reaction made sense.”