"No. Surely, you know that."
The light changed. Joe gunned the engine, shifted gears, roared up the street and made a hard right into his grandmother's driveway. What he knew, he thought grimly, was that it must have been an irresistible combination. A scheming old lady and a scheming young one. It was a match made in heaven ...
Or in hell.
He shut off the engine. In the sudden silence he could almost hear the sound the hammer would have made as the nails sealed his coffin.
"Your grandmother finally seemed to understand my concerns," Lucinda said.
Joe swung towards her. She sounded as prim and proper as she had when he'd opened the door to her that morning. She almost looked it, too.
But she wasn't prim or proper. Not if she entertained at stag parties. Not if she went up like dry tinder at the touch of a match, in a man's arms.
"And then she made it clear that propriety wouldn't be a problem because her grandson was-"
"Gay."
"Exactly. "
Joe grunted. "And you saw that as a challenge." "No. Of course not."
"What, then? As a reclamation project? As a guy you could turn into the kind of male who'd be butter in your hands?"
"Are you crazy? What I saw was that I'd be safe." She looked at him. "If you were gay, I wouldn't have to worry about you making unseemly advances."
Unseemly advances, he thought coldly. This, from a woman who'd been sitting on his kitchen counter an hour ago, her thighs open to his touch.
"And then she asked me if I liked men. Well, I told her I didn't, not since my fiancé had ... What's the matter?"
Joe sprang from the car, pulled open her door, grabbed her hand and tugged her onto the sidewalk.
"Nothing," he said as he hustled her up the steps to the front door. "Everything! Hell, what a setup. I'm just wondering what jury in the world would possibly convict me for nonnacide after they heard this whole-"
The door swung open. Nonna Romano stood in the entry, a smile as innocent as sainthood on her face.
"Giuseppe, " she said, and opened her arms in welcome. "And Luciana. Come in, come in."
"It's Lucinda," Joe said grimly. He maneuvered past his grandmother, his hand still wrapped around Lucinda's wrist. "And you can cut the 'Giuseppe' stuff. We're going to conduct this little talk in plain old American."
His grandmother swallowed nervously. Her black eyes darted from Lucinda to Joe and back again.
"Something is wrong? I look out, I see your car, I see that you do not come around to the back door the way you always do, Gius-Joseph."
"You bet there's something wrong," Joe snapped. "Did you tell this-this person...that I was..." He took a deep breath. "That I didn't like women?"
Nonna's eyes darted from face to face again. "No. Yes. I mean, women like her. Forgive me, signorina, but I knew you were not my Joseph's type."
"Her English is much better than when I met with her" Lucinda hissed. "I can hardly believe it's the same woman:"
Joe smiled tightly. "Oh, it's the same woman. Isn't that right, Nonna?"
Nonna stepped back. "Joseph," she said in a soft sweet voice, "mio bambino, I just put a tray of manicotti in fue-"
"Never mind the manicotti." Joe let go of Lucinda's elbow and folded his arms. "You told her I didn't like women. And when she told you she'd just broken off with a boyfriend-"
"A fiancé," Lucinda said. "Back home, in Boston. I told her that, and I said I was really off men, that I'd never want to get involved with one again."
"Is that what she said, Nonna?"
"Well-well, maybe. It's so long ago. You know how things are, Joey, when a woman gets old and feeble..."
"It was a week ago. And you're about as feeble as Godzilla."
"Joey. I meant well."
"You always mean well," Joe said sternly. "But this time you've gone too far." He put his arm around Lucinda's rigid shoulders and dragged her forward. "Do you know what you've done, Nonna?"
"Yes," Nonna said with a wide-eyed smile. "I found you a cook."
Joe laughed. Lucinda stiffened, tried to pull free but he wouldn't let her.
"You found me a woman who needs to consult with Julia Childs before she can boil water."
"No! She learned to cook in Florence..."
"She doesn't know Florence from Florenze."
"Now you are confusing me, Joseph."
"Never mind." His eyes narrowed with anger. "The only thing this babe knows how to cook are testosterone levels."
"What?"
"The little lady here spends her evenings entertaining gentlemen."
Nonna clapped a hand to her heart. "Dio mio,” she whispered.
"It isn't true," Lucinda said quickly. "I don't do anything of the sort, Mrs. Romano, your grandson is-"
"And," Joe said triumphantly, "to top it all, she's not even Italian. How's that grab you, Nonna, my love?"
Tears glittered in Nonna's eyes. "But you said," she whispered to Lucinda, "you said your name was-"
"Lucinda Barry. From the Boston Barry's." Lucinda blinked. Had she really said that? It was the first time in her life she'd fallen back on the horrid phrase, but right now, it was all she had.
"So, that's the story," Joe said. "She can't cook. She's not Italian. And she not only likes men, she loves 'em." He beamed a smile at Lucinda. The sight of it sent a chill coursing through her blood. She tried to move away from him but his arm clamped even more tightly around her. "And, you know what, Nonna dearest?"
"What?" Nonna whispered.
"I've decided, despite everything, you finally made the right choice."
His grandmother stared at him as if he'd lost his mind, and hell, maybe he had, but it was too good to pass up. Revenge, he thought, revenge so swift and sweet that when it was over, his dear, devoted, irritating-as-hell Nonna would never, ever try and play matchmaker again.
Joe put his hand under Lucinda's chin and lifted her startled face to his.
"I've finally realized that a man would be a fool to walk away from the right woman, once he's found her."
"What right woman?" Nonna said blankly, and he grinned. "Why, this one," he purred, grinning at Lucinda. "The one you personally selected for me, Nonna, darling. Miss Lucinda of-the- Boston- Barry's. ' ,
There was a moment of silence. Then his grandmother moaned, Lucinda gasped, and Joe used the moment to his advantage.
He bent his head, took Lucinda's mouth with his, and kissed her.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE kiss was payback.
It was supposed to be, anyway.
An announcement that would set his grandmother back on her heels. A kiss that would show Lucy who was in charge here. All in all, a moment's revenge on two women who'd made his day a misery.
Except, it wasn't happening the way Joe had intended. Not once his mouth found Lucy's.
The kiss should have been a joke, not something he felt right down to his toes. The sweetness of her mouth. The warmth of her br
eath, as she gave a startled gasp. The softness of her body, as he drew her closer ...
"Hey!"
The sharp bite of her teeth, as she sank them into his lip. Joe jumped back, slapped his hand to his mouth, then looked at his fingers, smeared with pinpricks of bright red blood.
"You bit me," he said in amazement.
"You're damned right, I bit you!" Lucy's breasts rose and fell in rapid rhythm. "You-you-"
"Be careful what you call my Joseph," Nonna said.
Lucy swung towards the old woman. "Your Joseph," she said hotly, "is a no-good, no-account, lying, cheating, miserable son of a-"
"My Joseph has a poor sense of humor," Nonna said coldly. 'Isn't that right, Joey?" She turned towards him, her expression beseeching, her voice turning soft and sweet. "It was a joke, yes? About you and this-this woman."
Joe looked from his grandmother's worried face to Blondie's indignant one. Now was the moment. Of course, he'd say, what else could it have been? Certainly, it was a joke, and in the future, his nonna had better keep it in mind because if she meddled again...
But she would meddle again. A week from now, this would all be history. Give her a month, she'd be up to her elbows in more matchmaking.
"Joseph?"
Joe took a deep breath. "No," he said carefully. "It's not a joke. I'm going to marry Lucinda Barry."
His grandmother stared at him through dark, moist eyes and clapped a hand to her heart.
"No," she whispered, "oh, Joseph, mio ragazzo, no!"
"Oh, yes," he said politely. "Just consider, Nonna, and you'll see that she'll make me the perfect wife."
"This woman?" Nonna said, with a cold glare in Lucinda's direction. "One who is not Italian? Who cannot cook?"
"She can learn." He smiled. "We can train her, darling Nonna. Together, we can make a silk purse from the proverbial sow's ear."
"I am not a sow's ear," Lucinda said furiously, "and you can stuff your silk purse!"
Joe ignored her. "As for her, uh, her talents with men..." He shrugged lazily. ''You have to admit, Nonna, a woman well-versed in pleasing a man can be an asset."
"Are you two crazy? I don't want to be an asset! I am not marrying your grandson, Mrs. Romano. Have you got that straight?' '