CHAPTER TEN
DOMINIC
The dining room configuration wasn’t right. I had three long eight-seat tables, twelve square four-tops, and six small two-tops. Plus there were nine four-person booths bolted into the walls. Seating capacity at Espo 2 was twice what it was at Espo 1. Yet the main room didn’t have the right kind of flow. When I stood on a round stool beside the counter and surveyed the scene, it looked like an incomplete jigsaw puzzle.
I hopped down and started rearranging everything again, whistling as I worked. The fact that we were getting closer to opening day and no terrible obstacles had arisen yet made me hopeful that it would all go off without a hitch.
When Melanie walked in at ten minutes to nine, I was still whistling.
Instead of just saying a polite good-morning and proceeding to the office, Melanie stopped and stared at me.
“You’re happy,” she said, but something funny lurked behind her words. She sounded almost suspicious. When I glanced her way, I tried to avoid sweeping my eyes over her figure. I failed. Her black, fitted skirt was gloriously short today.
“I do that sometimes,” I said mildly. “I get happy.”
Melanie set her purse and laptop bag down and started straightening out a square four-seat table that didn’t really need to be straightened. She was still giving me kind of a sour look. “And when you’re happy, you just start spontaneously whistling “Strangers in the Night”?”
“Big Sinatra fan,” I explained. “My grandmother instilled a love of his music in us from the time Gio and I were little.”
Melanie finished straightening the table and gazed at it with a critical eye. I watched her as she played with a lock of loose hair. It must be a nervous habit. I’d seen her do it before, wind a piece of hair loosely around an index finger and twirl. But then she stopped and secured the escaped hair back into the clip that held a loose bun atop her head.
Soon it would be easier to avoid Melanie-related temptations. A cast of servers and kitchen help would be bustling around, and before we knew it, we’d be open for business. All that constant activity meant I wouldn’t have time to appreciate the way Melanie’s legs looked in high heels. Or so I told myself.
Melanie was still brooding beside the table. Maybe she didn’t like the dining room configuration either. Or maybe I’d managed to do something to piss her off without even realizing it.
“So,” I said, pushing some dining chairs into place. “How’s all the interviewing going?”
She stopped fussing over the table. “Fine. I’ve hired two hostesses, six servers, and five kitchen staff. They start training next week.”
During the course of that little speech, Melanie had set her hands on her hips and tilted her chin up. It was a defiant pose, almost like she expected an argument from me.
“Sounds good.” I shrugged. “I’m glad you’ve got everything covered.”
“You want me to forward their resumes to you?”
“What for?”
Melanie inhaled and exhaled. “So you know who’s going to be working for you, Dominic.”
“I’ll know that soon enough.”
She looked annoyed. I didn’t know why. But she was definitely irked about something, and I didn’t believe it had anything to do with the staff.
“Is there something you want to say to me, Mel?”
She frowned. “You don’t usually call me that.”
“What?”
“Mel.”
“But isn’t that your nickname?”
“Yes.”
I sighed. “Okay, Melanie. Let’s get back to our first topic of debate. Is there something you want to say to me?”
She opened her mouth to fire back, but then she closed it. “For someone who obsesses over every detail of your restaurant, it seems like you might be more interested in who’s going to be working here.”
I thought about that. Gio had always handled the staffing details while I dealt with the tedious, nonhuman aspects of the business. Gio was good with people, and I always wanted to spare him the more physically tiring labor. Partly because I enjoyed it and partly because it seemed like the right thing to do. I couldn’t have lived with myself if Gio got hurt.
But maybe Melanie was right. I should take a more active interest in the workers. “Okay, forward their resumes to me. I’ll look them over before I meet them.”
“I will,” she said, but she still looked a little glum. I watched as she pressed her fingers against either side of her temples.
“Headache?” I asked.
Melanie looked at me and dropped her hands from her head, managing a small grin. “No, just haven’t gotten a lot of sleep lately.”
Now I was sorry I’d asked, because I had to wonder about the guy she’d mentioned to Tara. Maybe he was responsible for her lack of sleep. Yet his name hadn’t come up since. Then again, Melanie had no reason to discuss her love life with me.
“How’s Braxton?” I asked.
She looked confused. “You know Braxton?”
Shit, now I was really wishing I’d kept my mouth shut. If Melanie had spent last night getting hot and heavy with some dude, I sure didn’t want to hear about it.
“No, I don’t know Braxton,” I admitted.
“Then why are you asking?”
I shrugged, wondering how I could back out of this gracefully. “Just concerned about the well-being of my employee,” I muttered. “I heard you mention to Tara that you were going out with him, so I was trying to make conversation.”
She shrugged. “We used to work together, and he asked me to dinner. He never seemed like a bad guy, so I accepted. Plus I was kind of curious about whether my name is mud among the staff, and I haven’t been in contact with anyone there since the day I was fired.”
I didn’t say anything. I moved the nearest table slightly to the left and examined the visual effect.
Melanie headed in the direction of the kitchen while I continued to move furniture around. I felt like an idiot for bringing up Braxton. Now she knew that I’d sort of eavesdropped on her conversation with Tara. And if she was perceptive, she might have picked up on the jealous edge in my voice.
A moment later Melanie returned to the dining room with a pair of white ceramic coffee mugs that used to be in Donna’s kitchen. She handed one over to me, and I accepted it gratefully, even though I’d already had three cups today.
“I won’t be seeing him again,” she said. “Braxton, I mean.”
“That’s nice.”
Melanie took a sip of her coffee and watched me through her thick eyelashes. “Just wanted to make sure there was no confusion.”
“I’m not confused. Why would I be confused?”
She shrugged. “No reason. But you did mention that you were concerned over my well-being, so I thought I’d give you some more material to consider.”
“So you didn’t have fun on your date?”
Her smile fell away. “No.”
“No?”
She shook her head. “Not even close.”
“Is that right?” I set the coffee mug down, bent over, and started rolling up some thick extension cords to hide my sudden grin.
“Yeah.” There was something odd in her voice, so I looked up again. Melanie kept shifting her weight, and she set her own coffee mug down on the nearest table. She looked out the window with a troubled expression. “I wasn’t expecting him to switch rather rapidly from Jekyll to Hyde at the end of the night.”
I stopped smiling. “Why do you say that?”
Melanie shook her head and wrapped her arms around her body. “It’s nothing. He just got a little aggressive.”
I dropped the extension cords. “Define aggressive.”
She looked uneasy. “It’s better if I don’t. Don’t worry, I put him in his place.”
A vision came to me. My big hands wrapped around this man’s throat. I didn’t need to know what he looked like to picture committing bodily harm. The vision pleased me.
“He’d better stay the hell away from you,” I snarled. “I can’t be responsible for what happens to him if he doesn’t.”
Melanie’s eyes widened. I couldn’t tell if she was alarmed or amused by my sudden outburst. Normally I wasn’t a violent guy. But somehow when it came to Melanie, my protective instincts came boiling straight to the surface.
“Don’t worry,” she said in a quiet voice, and I thought she seemed a little touched by my concern. “I’m sure he will.”
“He sounds like a real asshole.”
She mulled that over. “Funny, how you can work with someone for two years and not really know him after all. I always thought Braxton was easygoing and respectful. It wouldn’t be the first time I was wrong, I guess.”
I was still imagining all sorts of terrible things befalling this Braxton dude. “He doesn’t sound like your type in the first place.”
Her eyebrows rose, and she snorted. “And what the hell does that mean? What do you know about my type, Dominic?”
“I just have a natural gift for sorting people out,” I said.
“Well, too bad your magical gifts weren’t around to stop me from marrying the wrong guy,” she shot back.
“Yeah, it is too bad,” I agreed, feeling a little surprised. “Because he was a fucking idiot.”
She rolled her eyes. “I haven’t told you a thing about James.”
“You don’t have to. He let you go. So he’s a fucking idiot.”
Melanie faltered. I saw her swallow hard.
“He is a fucking idiot,” she said softly. She looked away, and when her gaze returned to me, her eyes were narrowed. “As for your so-called natural gift for sorting people out, I suppose that’s why you set such high standards for yourself.”
There was sarcasm mixed in with her words. I could hear it.
A smart guy would have stopped the conversation right there and switched to something harmless like the furniture invoices that waited on the counter. However, I was enjoying myself far too much, and I never considered myself smart.
“You know about my standards?” I asked, circling around her so she had to glance over her shoulder to keep an eye on me.
“I know a little,” she announced haughtily.
“Is that so?” I asked slowly and got close enough to pluck an imaginary piece of lint from the shoulder of her blazer. To her credit she didn’t flinch. She didn’t even blink.
“I’ve seen what your type is,” she said with a vague tone of disgust.
I crossed my arms and peered down at her. Even though she wore high heels, I had a solid eight-inch height advantage. I was treading on dangerous ground. I knew it. But dammit she’d opened the door to this topic, and I really wanted to hear what Melanie Cruz thought she knew about me.
That freaking blazer she wore was driving me nuts. It was ridiculous to dress like that in this place, and in this overbearing heat. I kept the temperature cool in the restaurant, but she must get hot as hell the second she stepped outside. I was hot as hell just looking at her.
“What did you see, and who did you see me with?” I asked, genuinely curious.
Melanie sighed. “Look, I wasn’t going to bring this up, but you were at Casa Rienti the same time I was there with Braxton. I saw you with your friend and your dates. You looked pretty cozy, and I could swear she was about to give you a public lap dance. It would have been awkward to say hello, so I didn’t.”
Now things made sense. When Jason had begged me to tag along on his twin extravaganza, I’d figured: Why the hell not? It would be nice to have a night out with no strings attached. Briana and her sister Rhiana were friendly and outgoing and stacked like centerfolds, but I’d found my mind wandering throughout dinner. Jason yelled at me this morning when he learned I’d driven Briana straight home and passed up an invitation for a “nightcap”—whatever the hell that meant. Briana hadn’t been too thrilled I’d declined either. Her pink, petallike lips thinned in fury before she bolted out of my truck and stalked back to her apartment. She probably wasn’t used to being passed up. Once upon a time I wouldn’t have thought twice about following her upstairs. Maybe my brother’s morals were finally rubbing off on me. Or maybe it was time to grow the fuck up and invest in a woman I actually took seriously.
Melanie was waiting for my response. I tried to think of a diplomatic way to say, “Hey, I didn’t nail that chick,” but nothing I came up with sounded very appropriate. Anyway, Melanie shouldn’t care who I was screwing or not screwing.
But she did care. She cared a lot.
I could tell from the way she stiffened her back and kept her lips pursed together as she lectured me on my so-called standards. I imagined her sitting there at Casa Rienti beside Fuck Face Braxton and glaring at me from the other side of the restaurant. And I liked knowing that it bothered her to see me with someone else. I liked it way too much.
I coughed once. “The night actually ended early,” I said.
Melanie looked unconvinced. “I really shouldn’t have mentioned it. Who you spend time with is none of my business.”
“You’re right. It’s not,” I said. “But since I asked you about your night out, it’s only fair I tell you about mine.”
She grimaced. “You really don’t have to.”
“Don’t worry, my summary will be G-rated. I told you it was an early night. I’d never been out with Briana before and only went as a favor to Jay. After dinner I went home, slept for four hours—alone in my own bed—and was back here at dawn. I’m not interested in that girl, and I have no plans to see her again.”
A vague smile crossed Melanie’s face. “I believe you,” she said softly.
We stared at each other for a few tense heartbeats.
“You okay?” I asked her because she still had her arms crossed across her body like she was protecting herself.
She tilted her head slightly. “Yeah, why?” A piece of hair came loose from her bun and landed on her shoulder. She had impossibly thick hair. It was always breaking free.
Without thinking, I reached out and tried to tuck it back into place. It wouldn’t stay. So instead I reached around and opened the clip. She gasped a little as the wild cloud of hair sprang free and tumbled to her shoulders. My fingers got briefly tangled in the soft curtain. The fresh scent of her shampoo messed with my head and shot a bolt of lust straight to my dick. She closed her eyes and shivered as I allowed my fingers to sift through her hair. If I didn’t stop right here right now, this would go too far. But I didn’t pull away just yet. I brushed my fingertips against the tender skin of her neck for a few seconds, touching the delicate hollow of her throat, before withdrawing my hand. Melanie breathed and opened her eyes again.
“I should really get to work,” she whispered, still trembling a little.
“You really should,” I whispered back.
Melanie took a step back; the fire in her eyes told me how much I’d gotten under her skin.
She picked up her purse and her laptop bag from where she’d deposited them. It seemed as if she was moving slowly, stalling, like she was trying to sort through the thoughts in her head. I searched for something to say that might ease the tension.
“You know what?” I spoke up. “When we start getting food shipments over the next few days, I’ll be firing up the oven for some product test runs.”
She brightened. “Oh yeah? That’s great.”
“How about I make you a custom pizza before opening day? You choose the toppings. I expect it will be the best damn pizza that ever passed your lips.”
“I’m sure it will.”
As soon as I mentioned her lips, I found myself staring at them as she spoke, imagining what they’d feel like, taste like. The spell from a moment ago hadn’t been broken, not completely. It had occurred to me as I watched her hair tumble around her shoulders that I wanted to do much more than tug on a few soft strands. I wanted to grab her with both hands and run my fingers through that dense curtain of sexy hair. I wanted to bend down and put my mouth all over the delicate skin I’d touched with my fingertips. I was almost sure she wouldn’t stop me.
“Dominic . . . ,” she started to say, and it wasn’t the fact that she’d said my name that got me all knotted up. It was the way she said it, all breathy and seductive. I wondered if she’d read my thoughts somehow.
For better or for worse, there was no time to explore the moment because Gio walked through the door and right into the middle of it.
“Hey, kids,” he said with his usual cheer.
Melanie pulled herself together first. “Hi, Gio.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “You said you weren’t coming by until this afternoon.”
Gio was already checking out the table configuration. “I felt like taking a drive.” He glanced at me. “Was I interrupting you or something?”
“No,” Melanie and I practically shouted at the same time.
Melanie cleared her throat. “Gio, I’ve got four more interviews lined up today. I’ll email you my thoughts as soon I’m done, and tomorrow we should be ready to make the last employment offers.”
“Sounds good,” Gio said. But he was watching me.
Melanie kept talking. “Also, the point of sale system will be all set up by the weekend. The company rep will be here on Friday to give me comprehensive training, but thanks to the time I spent at Espo 1, I’m confident that it’ll be a cakewalk. I’ll be totally up to speed when the staff starts training.”
“You have anything to add, Dom?” Gio asked.
I sat down in a random dining chair. “Nope, nothing at all.”
“Well,” said Melanie, “if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go to the office now.”
“See you later, Melanie.” Gio waved.
I said nothing. I started moving one of the longer tables into the center of the room. Gio came over to help. “You know, Donna misses you,” he said. “Tara and I stopped by Sonoran Acres on Sunday, and she was glad to see us, but said that you haven’t been around in a while.”
“What do you mean I haven’t been around in a while?” I asked, indignant over any suggestion that I was neglecting my grandmother. “I was there on Saturday. It was the only break I took all weekend except for sleep. I brought her Taco Bell. You know how she’s always asking for soft chicken tacos and says the kitchen staff won’t make them. We ate tacos and watched The Breakfast Club in her room.”
Gio laughed. “Ah well. She forgets things sometimes.”
“I guess it just wasn’t a memorable visit for her,” I said. “Did she seem okay otherwise?”
“Sure. Except she didn’t want to let go of Leah when it was time to leave. But once a nurse arrived to bring her to her hair appointment, she was all smiles.”
I thought about my diminutive grandmother, the undoubted Esposito powerhouse matriarch who’d raised two unruly grandsons when she should have been enjoying a calm retirement.
“I was thinking,” I said, “when the restaurant opening is out of the way, I might buy a house and bring Donna home with me.”
“Dom.” Gio shook his head and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “We’ve talked about this before. She’s happy at Sonoran Acres. Plus her medical issues demand regular supervision, and as her mind starts to slip even more—”
“All right, all right,” I grumbled, turning away. “I get it. It’s just that sometimes she looks at me with those confused eyes, and I hate leaving her there.”
Gio sighed and came closer. He touched my shoulder. “I know how you feel,” he said gently. “Last year Tara and I talked about getting out of the condo and buying a house so Donna could come live with us. But we had to face the reality that none of us are equipped to give her the kind of care that she’s going to be needing.”
This conversation hurt. My grandmother was eighty-two, and of course I realized she wouldn’t be around forever. I just didn’t like to think about it. Instead I liked to remember her as the tender force that would scoop me out of my bed as a small child when I would cry out from the nightmares of cold and abandonment.
My brother squeezed my shoulder, sending me some comfort. Gio was the one person who always seemed to understand everything I was feeling without me saying a word. Yet when we were kids, I’d always been the one to look out for him when it came to navigating city streets or playground bullies or the sheer bewilderment of being deserted by our mother.
When the Esposito family suffered ruin and a terrible rift that still reverberated, Gio never once faltered in his loyalty to me, not even when I would have deserved it. I couldn’t imagine any man I’d rather have as a brother.
“So tell me, Giovanni,” I said, “do you have any thoughts on how to make this odd-shaped dining room flow a little better?”
He grinned. “I might have a few ideas.”
As we worked together and then took a walk down the street to grab something cold to drink, Gio mentioned Melanie only once, saying he was pleased to see that everything was working out.
“She’s a keeper,” I agreed, giving an involuntary glance back at the stately brick outline of Espo 2.
Gio, who could read my moods almost as well as I could, raised an eyebrow and waited to see if I would say more. I didn’t.