Author: Bella Andre

“Ever since I left Italy when I was nineteen.” She didn’t see a point in hiding her age, so she added, “That was thirteen years ago.”

His eyebrows raised in surprise. “We’re the same age.” He gave her one of his devastating grins that made her heart beat faster. “The years are another thing you wear better than I do.”

“If you ask me,” she murmured, “they look pretty good on you, too.”

Mary couldn’t remember the last time she’d flirted with a man. She was always so careful not to lead anyone on, just in case he thought she was feeling something she wasn’t. But the attraction that had simmered between the two of them in Union Square was heating up with every moment they spent together.

“Where in Italy?”

“A little town nobody has ever heard of called Rosciano.”

“I imagine your life over the past thirteen years has been very different from how you grew up.”

“Well, I had hoped it would be.” Feeling that had come out wrong, she clarified, “I had a great childhood, but I desperately wanted to see more of the world. San Francisco is one of my favorite places, which is why I’ve decided to stay for a while. This city certainly isn’t small, but it still reminds me of my old town in a lot of ways. The hills. The water nearby. How friendly the people are.”

Mary had been interviewed dozens of times over the years, by some of the best journalists in the business. But none of them had ever looked at her with such honest interest. Because even when they’d been friendly with each other, she’d only been a job to them. Mary had worked so much during her adult years that she’d always met the men she dated on the job.

She was extremely glad that Jack had nothing whatsoever to do with her career. It made her feel even more convinced that something might actually be possible with him. She wasn’t a product for him. She wasn’t connected to his bottom line.

She was simply a woman getting to know him.

“Did your brothers or sisters leave the country, too?”

“Unlike most Italian families, I was an only child. My mother—” She paused and tried not to betray the emotion that always came over her when she spoke of her mother, but she could already hear the little bit of an Italian accent that always slipped into her voice when she spoke of home and her childhood. “She always longed for more children, but her prayers weren’t answered.”

“Yes, they were.” His eyes were gentle as he said, “She had you.”

It took Mary a few seconds to push away the emotion his simple words evoked. “Do you have any sisters?”

“Nope, three brothers.” Her eyes widened at the thought of all that testosterone in one family as he asked, “Why do you ask?”

“Because if you had had sisters, you would have known that headstrong young girls and their mothers are rarely a conflict-free combination.” Feeling that she’d already said too much, and knowing she should change the subject before her emotions got the best of her, she asked, “Did you and your brothers grow up here?”

“Born and raised. I went to college locally, too, and haven’t really had much time to travel.”

“That’s another great thing about San Francisco,” she said, pausing in her extremely enthusiastic bites of pie, “between Chinatown, Japantown, the French Quarter, the Mission and North Beach, it’s like having the world at your fingertips. The people, the traditions, and especially the food.” He was so easy to talk to that she realized she’d gotten off track again. “What about your family? Are they all close by?”

“I wish. My oldest brother is up in Seattle with his wife and toddler. Another brother has a house in San Francisco but he is usually in a skyscraper overseas concluding another major business deal. My youngest brother is probably locked in his studio back east painting a masterpiece, and my parents are happily wintering in Florida.”

It amazed her how their conversation was so effortless and yet so totally full of sparks.

“What do you do?”

“I’m an engineer. I’ve been working on a product I invented for most of the past decade.”

Sexy and smart. Now that was a wonderful combination in a man, she thought as she took another bite of pie and ice cream. A cherry popped on her tongue, and the combination of sweet and creamy, warm and cool sent a soft moan of pleasure falling from her lips.

“You were right,” she said after she’d swallowed. “This is amazing cherry pie.”

Jack’s dark eyes were intense as they held hers and he agreed, “Amazing,” though he’d hardly eaten any pie at all yet.

“Help Me,” the hit single from Joni Mitchell, was playing from a portable radio set up in a corner of the diner. And with Mary’s heart pounding hard for a man she barely knew but already wanted so badly to know better, she felt as if Joni were singing about her.

Because after only fifteen minutes with Jack, Mary could tell that she was already falling too fast…with hopes about the future and worries about the past circling inside her mind and heart at the same time.

What if she didn’t let those worries imprison her this time? What if she trusted her instincts, the same way she had when she was a nineteen-year-old girl? And what if, for the very first time in a long, long while, she let herself believe that true love might actually be possible?

“A decade is a long time to work on one thing,” she said softly. “You must have incredible focus.”

“When I’m passionate about something and want it bad enough, I always make sure I get it.”

Her breath caught in her throat at the pulsing sensuality behind his statement. An impulse to lean close and kiss him wound through her, and she might have given in to it had she not noticed out of the corner of her eye that some of the other diners were pointing at her.

Mary wanted her first kiss with Jack to be special. So instead of a kiss, she simply leaned slightly forward to try to get closer to him across the bright yellow Formica table and said, “Tell me about your invention.”

She could tell he was pleased by her interest in his engineering career. She wanted to know everything about him—his passions, his dreams and his fears. And if things worked out between them, maybe she’d tell him about her passions, dreams and fears, too…something she’d never done with any man before.

He pulled something out of his pocket and placed it on the table between them. “We call it the Pocket Planner. It’s an electronic calendar and personal organizer. It even has reminders built in for the items on your to-do list. After a decade of trial and error, my two partners and I have finally not only got it working, but technology has made it small enough to be able to carry it around without a forklift.” He was even more gorgeous with the look of pride on his face.

“May I?” When he nodded, she picked it up and ran her fingers over the very interesting machine. “I think it sounds fantastic. In fact, I can think of half-a-dozen ways I could have used something like this in the past few years.”

He beamed at her. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to hear you feel that way.” She smiled back and was about to ask him more questions, when he added, “In fact, that’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about.”

Mary felt her smile falter on her lips. Years of holding poses regardless of whether she was happy or under the weather were the reason she was able to keep it in place. “It is?”

Jack pushed his plate away in his excitement. “We’re hoping to get it onto shelves this Christmas, and there are thousands of units waiting in a warehouse already but, though the retailers like the product, they’re convinced we need to add some se—” he cut himself off “—mass appeal to it. As soon as I saw you in Union Square I knew you would be the perfect person to represent our product.”

Her lips flattened, and the cherries that had tasted so good just minutes ago now felt like little round bricks in the pit of her stomach. She worked to keep her voice steady. “So that’s why you asked me here for pie? To see if I would consider representing your product?”

His eyes searched her face for a long moment, and she could see his sudden confusion at her cool reaction. She could almost read his mind, the way he was asking himself how he could have misplayed things with her already.

Especially when he clearly thought he needed her to make his dreams come true…

“Mary?” Jack shook his head, the tips of his hair moving over his broad shoulders. “No.” He shook his head again. “Yes, but it wasn’t the only reason.”

Of course he had to say that. With as much elegance and pride as she could still muster, considering she’d been gazing at him like a love-struck teenager when he’d simply been calculating his potential gains all the while, she carefully slid out of the booth. “Thank you for the pie and coffee.”

Jack reached for her hand before she could take more than a step away from the table. She looked down and saw how tanned his skin was against hers, how large his hand was as he held hers.

“Please, Mary, don’t go.”

God, it was pathetic how much she wanted to stay, even now that she knew the real reason he’d wanted to meet her. It now seemed as if the idea that she could eventually convince him to want more than that was mere fantasy.

But that wasn’t how love worked. She’d learned over and over throughout the years that there was no point in wishing for a miracle…even at Christmastime.

“Today was my last shoot. I’m not modeling anymore.” She didn’t owe him any explanations, but she hated to come across as a spoiled princess who was storming out because she hadn’t gotten her way…or because he’d inadvertently hurt her too-delicate feelings. “I’m sure you’ll find someone perfect to represent your product.”

She waited for him to lift his hand from hers, but he only gripped her tighter. “I already have found somebody perfect, Mary.” She couldn’t help but lift her eyes to meet his as he said, “You’re perfect.”

It was what she’d fought so long—the false perception that she was perfect. “I’m not.”

She steeled herself for his protests. The last thing she expected him to do was smile at her and say, “You’re right. How could anyone be perfect with ice cream and cherry juice on her face?”

He brushed the corner of her mouth with the tip of his index finger and so much warmth flooded her from the tiny touch that she was amazed all of the ice in the diner didn’t melt into a puddle right then and there just from the heat being generated between the two of them. And then, in the most shockingly sexy way, he brought his finger to his own lips and ran his tongue over his fingertip to lick off the cherry juice and ice cream.

“Please, Mary, let me start over and get things out in the right order this time.”

They’d been standing by the side of the table for long enough now that people were starting to stare. A few of them pointed to her and she heard her name in loud whispers. But none of that mattered.

Only this man standing before her did.

He’d had her at the surprisingly sweet comment about cherry juice and his gentle touch to her lips, but she would never forgive herself for folding that easily. “The right order?”

He nodded and moved closer, his body lean and muscled and warm against hers. “My invention isn’t the only reason I wanted to take you for pie and coffee.”

“It isn’t?”

“You’ve got to understand, Angel, a man like me looks at a woman like you and it’s inevitable that I’m going to screw things up.”

He had no right to make up a nickname for her or to say it in such a warm and inviting voice. And she had no business enjoying both those things.