The Playboy of Rome

She pressed her hands to her hips. “I’m positive. Go.”

He hesitated and she started to wonder if he was going to trust her. But then he relented. And turned. When he exited the kitchen, she rushed to finish up with the things on the stove. She placed them in the oven to keep them warm.

At last, it was time to start serving up the most important meal of her life. Since when had impressing Dante become more about what he thought of her and less about gaining the job? She consoled herself with the thought that it was just nerves. It wasn’t as if he was the first man to kiss her. Nor would he be the last.

She pushed aside the jumbled thoughts as she moved to the refrigerator and removed the crab-and-avocado salad. She placed the dish on the tray, took off her apron and smoothed a hand over her hair, worrying that she must look a mess. Oh, well, it was too late to worry about it now.

Then, realizing that she’d forgotten something for him to drink, she grabbed both a glass of chilled water and a bottle of DeFiore white wine she’d picked out to complement the meal.

She carried the tray into the dining room and came to a stop when she noticed the lights had been dimmed and candles had been added to the table as well as some fresh greens and dahlias with hearty yellow centers and deep pink tips. The breath caught in her throat.

The table was perfect. It looked as though it was ready for a romantic interlude. And then her gaze came to rest on Dante. He’d changed clothes. What? But why?

She glanced down at the same clothes she’d worn all day that were now smudged with flour and sauce. She resisted the urge to race out of the room to grab a shower and to change into something that would make her feel sexy and alluring.

She turned her attention to Dante, taking in his creased black slacks, a matching jacket and a gray button-up shirt. Wow. With his tanned features and his dark hair, he looked like a Hollywood star. She swallowed hard. She wondered if he’d remembered to put on a touch of cologne, too. The thought of moving close enough to check w

as oh, so tempting.

She gave herself a mental jerk. She wasn’t here for a date. This was business. She couldn’t blow her chance to show him that she was quite competent in the kitchen. She would impress him this evening, but it would be through her culinary prowess and not through flirting or any of the other tempting thoughts that came readily to mind.

“If you’ll have a seat, I’ll serve you.” She tried to act as though her heart wasn’t thumping against her ribs.

He frowned. “But I want to get your chair for you.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Aren’t you joining me?”

She shook her head.

“But you’ve got to be hungry, too.”

She was but it wasn’t the food she’d slaved over for the past couple of hours that had her salivating. “I’m fine.”

“Oh, come on. You surely don’t think that I’ll enjoy this meal with you rushing around waiting on me. Now sit.”

What was up with him? She eyed him up as she sat in the chair he’d pulled out for her. Was he having a change of heart about teaching her what he knew—in the kitchen, that was?

“I only brought out enough food for one.”

“Not a problem.” Before she could utter a word, he moved to the kitchen.

This wasn’t right. This was not how she’d planned to prove to Dante that she was up to the task of working in Ristorante Massimo. Frustration collided with the girlie part of her that was thrilled to be pampered. It was a totally new experience for her. But it also left her feeling off-kilter. Was she supposed to read something into his actions? The clothes? The flowers and candles? Did any of it have anything to do with their kiss?

When he returned, she gazed at him in the glow of the candle. The words caught in her throat as she realized this was her first candlelit dinner. Romance had never been part of her other relationships. She could definitely get used to this and to Dante—

No. No. She couldn’t get distracted again. This was not a date. It was business. So why was Dante acting so strange? So kind and thoughtful?

“Is there something I should know?” she asked, bracing herself for bad news.

A dark brow arched. “Know about what?”

She didn’t want to put words in his mouth, especially if they were not what she wanted to hear. “I don’t know. I just wondered about your effort to be so nice.”

He frowned. “So now you think that I’m not nice.”

She groaned. “That isn’t what I meant. You’re taking my words out of context.”