CHAPTER NINE
The front lock turned, and Saks groggily rolled out of bed to see who it was. He got to the door before it opened and yanked on the knob. Chrissy fell forward with eight plastic grocery bags looped around her wrists.
“What’s all this?”
“Breakfast, and lunch, and dinner.”
“You didn’t have to buy all this food. Here, let me help you.” Saks took six of the bags in his strong hands and walked them to the kitchenette a step from the edge of the living room. He put them on the counter that separated the two rooms. “What did you do, buy out the store?”
Chrissy followed him with a few more bags that must have been sitting outside. “Glad to see you found your clothes.”
“What?” He winked. “Not happy with viewing my naked body?”
“Ssh. No sex talk. You need to rest and eat food.”
“My nudity is sexy?”
“Stop fishing for compliments, stud. Where’s your frying pan?”
“I’ll give up my frying pan only under the condition it’s not to be used as an instrument of destruction.”
“Is it cast iron?”
“No. Aluminum.”
She rolled her eyes. “Then you can forget the ‘weapon of destruction’ designation for your cookware.”
“I’m not sure. In your hands—”
She laughed. “You’d better stop right now, Anthony Parks, if you want a woman to make you breakfast, which, judging by the bachelor state of your apartment, doesn’t happen often.”
Saks put his hand to his heart. “Though she be but little, she is fierce.”
“Ack, Shakespeare again,” she snorted.
Saks pushed behind her in the cramped kitchenette, managing to brush his hips against her rear as he did so. Then he bent to a lower cabinet, pushing his bottom in her direction.
“Stop it,” she said, laughing. “Or I’ll swat that butt of yours for being sassy.”
He stood and handed her the pan with a grin. “I’ll just get the pan for you,” he said in all innocence. “I can’t help it if your mind is in the gutter. Sassy assy. That’s what you like?” He raised a brow as his eyes slid down her body. “I know I do.”
“You wish my mind was in the gutter,” she said as he pushed past her again. He sat on a stool at the counter and grinned at her.
“How’s your head feeling?” said Chrissy.
“Better now that you’re here.”
“That’s sweet.” She rummaged through the drawers until she found the kitchen knives, and cut open the bacon and started it on the stove. “So,” she said. “What do you know about our respective family histories?”
“You mean the Rocco/Serafini rivalry?”
“Yes. I have to be honest with you, Saks. I spoke to my grandfather today on the phone on the way back here. He wasn’t aware you were a Parks, and he flipped out on me.”
“How?”
“Like a ‘the deal’s off’ sort of thing.”
“The deal’s off? What the hell? Wait a minute.” Saks pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped a button or two before putting it to his ear. “Ma? Yeah, it’s Anthony. Tell me. Why is Pandolfo Serafini upset that I’m a Parks? No, apparently, he hasn’t forgiven it, whatever it is ...No. You yell at Uncle Vits later. Tell me the story now.” Saks nodded his head several times. “I see... I see. Okay. Thanks, Ma.” Saks’ face twisted in anger as he slammed the phone down. “Damn Uncle Vits. What a shifty bastard!”