Her Final Fling

“Well, none of the Cesare boys liked anyone to date their sister. I can’t tell you how many young men I saw approach their house once Giselle turned sixteen, but those brothers sent all of them away because none of them was good enough for her as far as they were concerned.”

“Mrs. K., that’s not totally true—”

Mary Jo shook a finger at Vito and smiled. “You had your chance to share the story, but you didn’t. Now it’s my turn.”

Christine wondered if anyone ever got a word in edgewise around Mrs. Kowolski.

“Anyhow, we were all surprised when Billy Spears asked Giselle to the prom and she said yes. I had my doubts about whether or not Giselle would actually make it out of the house that night, but sure enough, I saw her leave just as I was putting the finishing touches on a friend’s wedding cake.”

Christine understood all too well how difficult it could be to have overprotective older brothers breathing down your neck. She’d grown up with two brothers determined to keep her safe, especially after their father walked out, which meant they usually scared off all prospective boyfriends.

No wonder she found herself rooting for Giselle and Billy.

“And then, what do I see out my kitchen window?” Mary Jo pointed with a thumb over her shoulder to her view of the sidewalk and the Cesares side yard. She removed a huge silver bowl from underneath the electric mixer and moved it to another counter where she’d set out her cookie sheets. “Huey, Dewey and Louie, better known as Vito, Nico and Renzo, all pile into the family car to follow them.”

“We were going to a party,” Vito interjected. “Both Marco and Giselle had gone out, so we felt entitled to a night on the town, too. We weren’t following my sister.”

Mary Jo gave him a brush-off smile as if she didn’t believe a word. “Still, Vito and his brothers came back a few minutes after Giselle pulled into the driveway with her date and—”

“We knew when she was supposed to be home and we were running late,” Vito explained, cramming his words in on top of Mary Jo’s.

She paused in the process of dabbing globs of cookie dough on the baking sheets. “And when he found his little sister necking in the car, he probably took ten years off Billy’s life by personally hauling him out of the vehicle.”

Vito shook his head as if still disgusted with the incident that was probably nearly a decade old. “The punk was all over my sixteen-year-old sister and gunning for first base—in my driveway, no less. I was damn proud I handled the matter with no bloodshed.”

Thinking she’d probably tormented Vito enough with this walk down memory lane, Christine scooped up the box of cookies and drifted closer to the door. “In other words he took the whole protector thing pretty seriously?”

Mary Jo winked. “I think he still does.”

Vito was already outside holding the door for Christine.

She hoped he didn’t think she needed any chivalry. She’d left home the moment she turned eighteen just so she could be her own person and make her own mistakes.

Which, of course, she’d done in spectacular fashion. She’d thought she was being so smart and conservative by getting to know Rafe online before she let herself get swept away by his sensitive notes and romantic poems. At least she hadn’t jumped straight into bed with him, right?

Ha! She would have been a lot better off having a fling than getting engaged to a man who already had a wife and had lined up seven other sucker fiancées.

“Thanks for the cookies, Mrs. K.” she called, stepping outside into the Florida twilight.

“Nice meeting you, hon,” the woman hollered back as the screen door slammed. “Come back anytime!”

“Sorry about that.” Vito paused when they reached the street. “I didn’t mean to spend so long at her house, but she’s a really nice lady even if she likes to trot out all my secrets.”

“I bet that’s not all your secrets.” Christine savored the marginally cooler air now that the sun was setting. If she hadn’t known better, this time spent with Vito could almost feel like a date. Good thing she wasn’t such a starry-eyed romantic anymore, right? “I’ll wager your lifestyle abroad is a far sight more colorful—and secret—than your life over here.”

God, that sounded like a come-on. Giving herself a mental shake and a stern reminder of where fanciful thoughts had led her the last time, Christine decided to make tracks back to her sweaty physical labor before she started thinking about other ways of getting sweaty and physical with the undeniably delicious Vito.

Turning her gaze back to the torn-up Cesare yard, she promised herself she’d ditch Vito and all thoughts of a sexy interlude ASAP.

VITO STARED DOWN at Christine in the rosy light of sunset and wondered how many more neighbors’ ancient stories he’d have to suffer through before he could go home.

With her.

“I refuse to answer that until you tell me something about you.” In fact, he wasn’t budging until he knew more about this woman full of contrasts. Her pixie figure versus her very healthy appetite was the most recent of his intriguing discoveries about her. “You know all the dirt on me now, but I don’t know the first thing about you other than you run your own business and you don’t like anyone to handle your petals too roughly.”

He didn’t know what demon within made him add in that last part. He had the feeling he shouldn’t be flirting with her if he wanted to convince her they could successfully share the same house for the next six weeks.

But she didn’t blush or look the least bit flustered. Instead, she jammed her box of cookies under one arm and faced him head-on. All business.

“Fair enough. I’m a Tampa native but I went to college in L.A. I wanted to put as much distance between me and the overbearing men in my family. But now I’m back in the same state as my older brothers and I’m determined to develop my own business independent of anyone’s help—financial or otherwise.”

Was it his imagination, or did he detect a note of warning in her voice? And how had she come to be so damn prickly at such a young age? She couldn’t be much older than twenty-five.

She waved to a little girl pushing her way down the sidewalk on a scooter before she took up her story again. “My five-year plan sees All Natural thriving as an independent success while my ten-year goals include opening offices in other Florida cities. Either that, or I might just open a nursery of specialty plants you can’t find anywhere else. I don’t date much because I work too hard and I spend the majority of my waking hours with dirt under my fingernails.”

He found it interesting she opted to slide in her dating stance. Another warning, no doubt.

“Just out of curiosity’s sake, are men in the five-year plan?” Not that he was jockeying for position or anything.

“Men aren’t even in the long-term planning unless I get really lonely. And even then…Well let’s just say I don’t need much in that department to tide me over.” Glancing around the neighborhood, she peered back at Vito’s ranch house. “And I think that bit of sharing probably evens up the score don’t you? I really need to do a few more things around the yard before it gets totally dark.”

Letting her off the hook for now, Vito definitely planned to ask her about her opposition to dating sometime down the road. Her stance surprised him since he had her pegged for more the home-and-hearth type with her green thumb and nurturing career.

But he had to admit, her anti-relationship views opened up some very intriguing possibilities for them this summer.

“Don’t you want to go talk to a few more neighbors?” Vito had seen Mrs. Hollenbeck walking her dog on the street earlier. She’d vouch for him in a heartbeat, assuming she’d forgiven him for feeding Fluffy pizza the one and only time he’d done any dog-sitting. How was he supposed to know Fluffy had wheat allergies?

“Are you kidding? I just got your whole life story from Mary Jo.” Christine hurried back over to his yard, her low-cut work boots moving silently over the dark ground, her hair fluttering around her chin with the help of a welcome breeze. “I’m confident there’s not a chance you could be a homicidal maniac without her knowing all the details. Even if you did have a dark and wicked side, I’m sure you wouldn’t want to exercise it for fear of jeopardizing lifetime access to the best cookies in southern Florida.”

Setting her box of sweets on the tailgate of the rusty pickup truck parked under the carport, she circled around to retrieve a few tools still lying around the property.

Vito ducked into the carport to turn on a couple of floodlights and then followed her across the yard, enjoying the view from behind. “The people around here are pretty nice. They were all really good to the family after our folks died. Mrs. Kowolski fed us for a week before Giselle decided she wanted to take up cooking. Nico grew pretty talented in the kitchen, too, but me and Renzo—forget it. We would have been living on Cap’n Crunch without some help.”

Giselle’s exploits as a superstar chef were a welcome topic of conversation normally, but Vito didn’t want to overload his guest on his first day back in town. She probably knew more than she ever wanted to know about the Cesares.

“How can I help?” He took a shovel from her since she was juggling too many tools.

“I don’t need any help.” She smiled brightly before trudging to an outbuilding at the back of the property that his brother had built for his woodworking. “And I can get the shovel, too, so please don’t feel like you need to stick around if you have other things to do. I’ll probably be busy for a few more hours at least.”

“Aren’t you picking up for the night?” Somehow he’d had visions of them going inside together. Talking. Hanging out. Hell, he didn’t know what he had in mind.

He knew perfectly well it was too soon to act on this attraction to Christine.

“No, I’m just organizing so that my work space doesn’t look like a disaster area now that you’re here. I’ll clean up in the house before I go to bed, too, and I’m sorry about all the plants in the sink. I can guarantee they’re bug-free, however.”

Damn, he hadn’t even thought about the infestation potential.

“It’s not a problem.” Especially since he always had someone come in to clean the house whenever he was in town. What was the point of all his racing winnings if he couldn’t occasionally dip into them for a few perks? After having struggled and scrimped to help his brothers and Giselle pay for college, who could blame him for a little self-indulgence now? “And damn it, Christine, let me give you a hand just for tonight since I threw off your whole workday by showing up.”

Ducking into the workshop, Christine switched on a lamp. Of course, this being his brother’s old carpentry haven, the lighting wasn’t just a bare electric light bulb. Although the rest of the room had been cleared out of hand carved desks and elaborate sideboards, the oversize shed still boasted wooden wall sconces at three-foot intervals.

Just what every backyard storage shed needed.

With a thunk, Christine set down the tools she’d been lugging on the sealed concrete floor.

“Look. I don’t mean to be rude, Vito, and I’ve had a surprisingly nice day hanging out with you, considering you’re some sort of European playboy extraordinaire. But I have a really hard time accepting help and I feel a big sense of ownership on this project, so if you don’t mind…”

“You want me to leave you alone.” He set down his shovel, the only tool she’d let him carry. She’d given him loud and clear warnings about the whole independence thing, so he wasn’t surprised there. But he was surprised to feel a twinge of disappointment. “Fair enough. I just wanted to make sure things were cool between us before I went inside.”

“They’re very cool.” She straightened the tools in the corner of the half-empty shed and failed to meet his eye.

Too bad he didn’t feel very cool at the moment. Watching her walk all over the yard, her slender hips in constant motion, had produced quite the opposite effect.

“Good.” He didn’t mean to move closer to her, but somehow he had. Just for a moment. “Because I wouldn’t want things to be awkward for you, having to sleep under the same roof as me.”

She blinked up at him, their bodies suddenly too close together, the pink bow of her mouth forming a round O of slight surprise.

He thought about taking that mouth, about tasting the lemony sugar of her kiss and putting an end to the mix of awkwardness and attraction between them. But given all her boundary-drawing and warning signs posted, Vito thought maybe he’d be better off letting her go this time. Saving that kiss for a moment when neither of them would find any reason to stop.

“’Night, Christine.” Easing away from her and the raw temptation of her tanned, slender body, Vito took a step back. Her boundaries were safe for a little while longer. “Pleasant dreams.”

And for the first time in a long time, he knew damn well that his would be.

4

TWO WEEKS LATER, Christine was still cursing Vito Cesare’s insistence that she have pleasant dreams.

Slumping into the ancient tire swing in the backyard after another endless day of working, she stared up at the dark house where Vito worked on his computer and wished she could get a good night’s sleep for a change. But she’d been having so many confounded pleasant dreams of him that she dreaded going to bed lately for fear of the overly romantic plotting of her subconscious mind.

Wrapping her arms around the old tire, she rested her chin on her hands and kicked the swing into motion, every muscle aching from spending her day on her hands and knees finishing the hard-scaping, or structural work for the new landscape. She’d installed new patio blocks and pathways around the property, creating all new foundations and focal points for the colorful tropical gardens she had yet to develop.

But despite her bone-weary exhaustion, she couldn’t help but fantasize about the man she’d shared a house with for the last two weeks. He’d been a perfect gentleman ever since that first night when he’d helped her put away the tools in the workshop. She’d been taken aback by his sudden proximity that night, and could have sworn he’d been about to kiss her. And then…nothing.

A reminder to have pleasant dreams, and then he was off to his own room, staying out of her way day after day while she worked sunup to well after sundown creating the kind of lush foliage and private terrain she and Giuseppe Donzinetti had discussed.

She’d made it her habit to work late every night. Not only because she needed to get a lot done, but also because she hoped she’d dream about him less often if she didn’t run into him in the hallway before going to bed. She opted to clean up in the charming outdoor shower she’d found behind the outbuilding at the back of the property instead. An adorable latticework enclosure complete with wooden privacy screens, the shower stall had to have been built by the Cesare brother who had been into carpentry.

Not only did she avoid Vito that way, but she really enjoyed showering under the stars, sliding into some clean clothes, and then sneaking into the house after Vito was asleep. But tonight she was too exhausted even to make it back to her bed.

A warm evening breeze fluttered through her damp hair as she studied the dark house for some sign of life. It was only midnight and she’d noticed Vito sometimes stayed up until one or two. He left the house for long periods of time during the day, coming home at seven or eight and offering her dinner most nights.

Which she had always refused. Except for earlier in the week when he’d simply brought bags of takeout home and set them on the picnic table for her. Considering his idea of takeout had been Cajun-fried shrimp and jambalaya from a local specialty restaurant, she could hardly have refused. But even then, he’d left her alone to eat in peace.

Which had been very gentlemanly. And, if she was completely honest with herself, maybe just a teeny bit disappointing.

Had she dreamed the mutual attraction of that first day? Or had the chemistry between them been so one-sided it had skewed her perceptions?

Yawning and stretching, she told herself to quit ruminating and just get her butt inside so she could snag some sleep. Then again, maybe if she closed her eyes out here, farther away from where Vito slept, she’d be able to catch a few Zs that weren’t interrupted by sultry dreams. Surely even her romantic subconscious wouldn’t plague her with sexy visions while she was perched in a ring of vulcanized rubber.

After two weeks, maybe she’d found the key to a few hours of sleep that didn’t star Vito Cesare wearing nothing but a pair of gardening gloves and a wicked grin.

FEET SINKING into the soft earth beneath his flip-flops, Vito walked across the yard at 2:00 a.m. to find Christine slumped in the old tire swing, her chin resting on her folded hands. He paused over her, wondering what she was dreaming about. He’d wake her in a minute and steer her to bed so she could get a good night’s sleep. For now he simply indulged in the unique experience of watching her at rest.

Did she think about fire bushes and patio blocks even while she slept? Plants and landscaping seemed to be all she talked about while awake. The few times he’d tried to draw her into conversation over the last two weeks that he’d been back home, she’d quickly rerouted the discussion back to watering schedules and his yard’s soil composition.

All business, in other words.

He studied her face in the moonlight. Swiping a thumb across her cheek, he told himself he was just brushing off a stray hair and not testing the softness of her creamy skin. Although if he had been taking note of what she felt like, he would have had to admit her skin was even softer than he’d imagined. More delicate.

Debating the best way to wake her, Vito skimmed a short brown lock of hair away from her face, exposing the full expanse of her cheek to the moonbeams, along with her tempting pink lips.

He’d been trying to give her space ever since that first night when she’d outlined her boundaries as concretely as if she’d laid her damn paver stones around them. He’d hoped that maybe with time and enforced proximity, the spark between them would develop into something even she couldn’t ignore. But she was either too exhausted to look at him twice or she deliberately avoided him. He couldn’t be sure which.

And since the out-of-town guests would start arriving for the wedding preliminaries in another week or so, Vito knew he didn’t have much more time to make his move. If he wanted to woo Christine, he couldn’t afford to sit back and wait for her boundaries to dissolve any longer.

Tomorrow, he’d pick up his pace for the full-throttle rush toward the finish line and break through those barriers of hers on his own. Tonight, he’d have to settle for cruising one more test lap.

“Christine?” He laid his hand on her shoulder, debating if he should just scoop her out of the swing and carry her to bed. She had to be dead to the world after all the hours she’d been putting in this week.

Then again, he didn’t want to risk scaring her.

“Christine?” he called her name a little louder, looping an arm around her waist to test her reaction.

“Vi-to.” She moaned his name in her sleep, stretching out the word into extra syllables as if savoring the taste of it on her tongue.

His name had never sounded more provocative. And although she still seemed to sleep deeply, with her chin resting on the back of her hand curved around the tire, Vito suddenly felt very, very awake.

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