“Girlfriend, you have got to get out there,” Madam Opal said, swinging her hips through the kitchen door. “The big boss just came in and he ain’t happy.”

“Big boss?” I asked.

“Papa Pensione himself.”

“Jack’s father? Are you sure? Frank Pensione, is in my restaurant?”

Madam Opal nodded, glancing from her notepad as she punched a new order into the system. “Sure is. By the sound of it he stopped in to take a bite out of his little boy’s ass.”

I rushed to the dining room door and peered through the small window. Marbella moved like my shadow behind me, her big breasts crowding against my back.

“Is that him? What’s he look like?” Marbella asked over my shoulder.

“I don’t know. I’ve never met him and he’s never in any of the tabloids or press photos.” I pressed the side of my face to the glass trying to see around the counter to the far end of the diner. “He’s got his back to the kitchen.”

She nudged my ribs. “Well get out there. Have a look. See what they’re talkin’ about. If you can’t convince the boy to renew your lease, maybe Daddy Warbucks will have a soft spot for the place . . . or for you.”

“I can’t eavesdrop.”

“Eavesdrop on who?” Brittney asked finally emerging from the bathroom. The very pregnant nineteen-year-old waddled up behind us, pressing her baby belly into my side until I stepped out of the way for her to see through the little window. “Who am I looking at?”

Lately I’d been wondering if the soon-to-be teen mom had taken the old cliché, eating for two as a challenge. Either that or she was off on her due date by about a month and a half. In retrospect, there was a period of ambiguity when she applied at The Sweet Spot as to her due date. Her answer had more to do with when she and her boyfriend had gotten back together, and the irrelevance of a small indiscretion with a teacher’s assistant at the community college than anything her OBGYN had told her.

Whatever. We were ready. Marbella had packed an emergency bag on Brittney’s first day, though I don’t know how comfortable she’ll be in Marbella’s housecoat and flowered slippers. Guess we’ll see. Or not—if I lose the restaurant. God, I cannot lose this restaurant. I couldn’t let these people walk out of my life.

“I’m going out there,” I said, resolved.

“Good idea,” Marbella said, pushing the door open for me. “Take the counter customers. Give you an excuse to hover around over there, close enough to hear.”

I nodded.

“Well, as James Bond as this all sounds, I’m off the clock. So . . . I’m out.” Brittney pulled the ties on her apron and waddled for the back door faster than I’d ever seen her waddle toward a customer.

“See ya tomorrow Britt.” I sighed. “Okay. Here it goes.”

Diego slapped the order-up bell. “Pick up. Table nine.”

The kitchen door thwacked back and forth behind me and I snatched a damp rag from the sink behind the counter, casually wiping the bar-top as I made my way closer to the Pensione table. Color me covert.

Frank’s father barely looked old enough to be his brother—okay, his slightly older brother. Think Alec Baldwin, young, sexy and fit and then Alec Baldwin ten years later—a little thicker, a brush of gray, but the same piercing eyes, same heart-stopping smile, same rock hard body. Dear Lord, how gorgeous must his mother be?

I shook the question from my brain and focused on hearing their conversation without being obvious about it. Jack sat facing the door to the kitchen but it didn’t seem like he’d noticed me slip into the room. Jack was just too distracted by his father. The older man looked like he was suffering a bad case of hemorrhoids, face tight, voice curt but low.

“This place doesn’t look like it’s about to close in a month,” Frank said.

Jack’s shoulders shook with a quick laugh. “Yeah. I think the owner’s in denial.”

“You didn’t shut down that lawsuit nonsense yet?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Jack said. “She’s not going to win.”

“Not the point, boy.” His father leaned back taking a loud breath through his nose like a teakettle about to blow its top. He looked away, his mouth a tense line, then back to his son. “When I tell you to do something I expect it to get done. If I can’t depend on my own son to obey me, how can I expect any more from the rest of the family?”

“Dad, I can’t force her to drop the suit,” Jack said. “What difference does it make whether this place closes in a day, a week or a month?”

“That’s not the point,” Pensione senior said.

“There’s still six months of renovation to go upstairs, and turning this into a gym won’t take more than four weeks, tops.” Jack wadded his straw paper between his fingers and tossed it to the center of the table.

“Theoretically,” Frank said. “If everything goes as planned.”

“Okay, so if you’re worried it won’t be done in time you could always just renew the lease on the diner. Your real-estate guy said the increased value on the condos for having a gym is lost on the cost of renovating this place. Why not just leave it? The owner wants to stay.”

“I’m sure he does—”

“She.”

“What?” Frank’s brows furrowed.

“The owner is a she,” Jack said. “You said he.”

“Listen to me, boy. The plans are already in place,” Frank said as though it didn’t matter if I was a he, she or it. “I’m the head of the family and I will not alter my plans for a . . . for anyone. Do you understand?”

“So, basically, you’re refusing to even consider an alternative for no other reason than you don’t want to?”

“Yes. Doesn’t matter if I have other reasons. I’m alpha. This is my pack—”

Alpha? Really? Dial back the machismo meter, buddy.

“Dad, not here.” Jack threw a nervous glance at the other customers.

“This is my company,” Frank continued. “My decision is final.”

Jack snorted and looked away, shaking his head.

“If you don’t like it, then you take over as head of the family and make your own rules,” Frank said.

“Get off the damn throne and I will.”

“Find a mate and you’ve got a deal.”

Jack sank back, throwing his elbow up to prop on the back of the seat. “Christ, don’t start that shit again.”

“You’re running out of time, boy,” Frank said. “Any day now someone’s going to step up and challenge for the spot. I can’t hold them off forever.”

“I’m not getting married, Dad.” Jack looked out the window, watching the passersby on the city street.

“Well, you can’t be—” Frank clipped his words this time scanning the diner then looked back to Jack, lowering his voice. “You can’t take over the family unless you’re married.”

“So you keep telling me.” Jack swung his gaze back to his father. “As head of the family, though, you could step down and name me as your successor before anyone else brings a challenge.”

Frank shook his head. “Doesn’t work that way and you know it.”

“It could if you wanted it to. You’re the law, right?” He looked out the window and added in a softer voice. “Heard that enough times growing up.”

“Even if I wanted to—which I don’t—the family won’t follow an unmarried . . .” Frank glanced at his fellow diners again, as though stumbling on his word choice. Then finally said, “CEO.”

“You don’t know that. There’s never been an unmarried C. E. O.,” Jack said, emphasizing the letters.

“Because they would never follow one.”

Jack threw up his hands. “You’re insane.”

Frank slapped the table rattling silverware and glasses. I flinched with Jack and everyone else at the startling sound. “Watch your tone, boy.”

“Yes, sir,” Jack said respectfully.

Madam Opal sashayed up to the end of their table and cocked her weight to one hip. “Hello boys, I’ve got a porterhouse with a loaded baked potato, and two double bacon burgers and fries. You’re the porterhouse, right sweetie?”

“Sure am, doll face.” Frank beamed at the waitress, leaning back and spreading his hands as Opal set his plate in front of him.

“The burgers go to that table,” Jack said pointing to the booth behind Frank.

“Thanks, handsome,” Madam Opal said.

I followed her sexy swagger to the twin mountains filling the next table. They wore nearly identical black suits, snug against their bulging muscles and mile-wide shoulders. The one with his back to Jack and Frank was only slightly more intimidating than his partner thanks to his brutally short dark hair. His buddy’s menace was softened by the silky light brown waves brushing his ears. Their hands were big enough to palm my head, and their feet were roughly the size of a couple of Smart Cars.

“There’s one for you,” Frank said drawing my attention back to the father and son drama. “She’s a sexy tall drink of water. And sturdy too.”

“She’s a he,” Jack said.

“What?”

“That was a guy, Dad. A man in woman’s clothing.”

Frank’s eyes widened and he blinked at Madame Opal’s ass rocking back and forth toward the kitchen. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“Anyway, even if I was interested, I don’t need you to find me a wife,” Jack said.

Frank grunted a laugh, unrolling his silverware from the paper napkin. “No. You don’t need my help finding women, that’s for sure. Although the ones you’ve been parading around town lately aren’t any better candidates than our lovely cross-dressing waitress.”

“What do you mean? I’ve dated some of the most beautiful, wealthiest, famous women in the world.” He chuckled. “What could possibly be wanting in them?”

Good question. If they weren’t good enough to cut the mustard with dear ol’ Dad, then what did that make me?

“Relax, son. They’re all beautiful, and exceptional in one way or another.” Frank sawed into his steak cutting off a bite-size chunk. “But I think you know they were lacking a certain . . . something.”

“What are you talking about?” Jack seemed genuinely perplexed.

Frank swallowed his bite of steak. “I don’t know what it is, but you know what I mean. She has to be strong, fearless . . . commanding. But still very feminine.” He shook his head and cut another nugget off his steak. “You know, like your mother.”

“Mom?” Jack barked out a laugh. “Seriously? You’re telling me to marry someone like Mom . . . like you did.”

Frank dropped his hands to the table, still holding his knife and fork. He exhaled, chewing, an exasperated expression sagging his face. “Jack . . .”

“What do you know about Mom?” He asked, either not noticing or not caring that his father was already exhausted by the topic. “Unless you mean I should marry someone I won’t have a problem turning my back on, someone who’ll keep quiet when she figures out she comes in second to every other person in her family. Or should I just look for someone I can betray?”

Faster than I could track, Frank’s fist lashed out and struck his son across the jaw. Jack reeled to the side almost tumbling out of the booth. He caught himself, rubbing his chin as he sat straight in his seat again.

Oh, hell no. My feet had already moved me to the opening at the front end of the counter. The overbearing Papa Pensione could be the alpha dog all he wanted at home, but this was my restaurant and nobody has to take that kind of abuse under my roof. I was heading to the table to give the knuckle-dragging senior business mogul a piece of my mind when Jack’s eyes swung my way. He waved me off with a subtle shake of his head then turned his attention back to his father.

Frank was already working another bite off his steak with his knife and fork as though nothing had happened. “We done with that topic?”

Jack gave a shallow nod. “Yeah. Yes . . . sir.”

“Good. Now. Where’s the owner? You say it’s a woman?” Frank scrapped the juicy hunk of steak off his fork with his teeth.

“Why?”

Frank’s piercing green eyes met his son’s, brows a tight crease along his forehead. He chewed quickly and swallowed. “What’s gotten into you, boy? You’ve always been headstrong but lately . . . since I gave you the reins on this project, you’re disobeying direct orders, questioning my reasons, defying me to my face.”

“What’s gotten into me?” Jack shifted in his seat and gave a bitter laugh, he rubbed the sore spot on his jaw. “Nothing. I’m not defying you Dad, I’m making my own decisions. I’m getting things done . . . my way. What are you even doing here? Really. This is my project, my chance to show the family, show you, that I’m . . . CEO material—wife or not. The company wants the building renovated. It’s happening. Under my lead. It’ll get done. But I decide how.”

Frank nodded, swallowing. “Sure, sure. You’re in charge. Absolutely. Your baby all the way. But I still think I should talk with the little lady, see if I can help push things along for you. Now, where is she?” He took a long drink of his iced tea, watching Jack over the rim.

“She’s out.” Jack glanced at me. I’d started wiping clean tables trying not to look like a creeper listening in on their conversation. He turned back to his father. “I heard she’s meeting with her lawyer.”