All the Way

Chapter Five

“Mama, Pop, this is Miranda Storme.”

Miranda shifted her feet as the elderly couple stared at her in astonishment. Damn, she’d known this was a mistake. Why would Gavin’s parents welcome her to their restaurant when she’d been the one to trash it in the first place? She craved to remain in the background and observe tonight, but the moment she appeared he dragged her back toward the kitchen. Sweat dampened her palms and she fought the urge to swipe them down her skirt.

As if he sensed her anxiety, Gavin linked his fingers within hers. Gently, he squeezed, and she relaxed at the full impact of his support.

His father cleared his throat. “Um, are you the Miranda Storme who did the review?”

“Yes, sir. I’m afraid I am.”

The couple exchanged glances. “I see,” Archimedes Luciano said. “Are you here to do a second review?”

“She’s with me, Pop. Miranda’s my date tonight.” Gavin flashed her a mischievous grin. “And she says she won’t do a second review under any circumstances.”

Gray brows slammed together. “You dated my son years ago, yes?”

She nodded.

Archimedes glared at Gavin. “You messed up the relationship, didn’t you?”

Gavin winced. “Yeah.”

His father let out a long stream of Italian. Miranda figured the words weren’t meant to be said in polite company since his wife gasped and cut him off with one sharp command. “Passion without pain, sunshine without rainy days, huh? You wanted it all, but you lost a little thing called love. True love. Real life does not work like this, Giovanni.”

She turned with fascination and caught a flush on her ex-lover’s cheeks. “Giovanni?”

“I don’t answer to that name,” he stated with a straight face. “Stop quoting Sinatra, pop. That’s not what happened.”

His father snorted. “Everything about life is learned from Frank. I have told you this over and over, but you still refuse to listen.” He focused his attention on her. “My son does many mistakes, but he’s trying to make up for them. I just have one question to ask you, signorina.”

She swallowed. “Yes, sir?”

“Did the broccoli rabe really taste like rubber?”

Miranda nodded. “I’m afraid it did.”

“Then you told the truth, and my son has another problem to fix. You are welcome here. Gavin tells me he has a surprise for the guests tonight. Yet another unveiling of these so-called modern features that make a successful restaurant.”

She smiled. “Thank you, I’m looking forward to it.”

His mother shook her head and patted her hand. “I agree with my husband. We are honored to have you as our guest.” She wagged a finger at her son. “Just make sure this surprise doesn’t contain anything distasteful. No lewd singers or dancers to bring in customers. No nakedness, either.”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “Mama, give me a break.”

Miranda tried not to giggle. His parents walked away, and she realized Gavin still held her hand. She tugged but he kept his grip, raising her hand to press a kiss against her palm. His steel-blue gaze pierced into hers. “They like you.”

His warm lips skated over her wrist, and her skin prickled. “How can you tell?”

“Pop yelled at me. That’s always a good sign. He also respects your honesty.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, he likes your hair.”

She blinked. “My hair?”

He released her hand and brushed his fingers down over the strands. The curls jumped and wrapped themselves around him. “Fire trapped in satin,” he murmured. “Just like the woman herself.”

A rush of lust hit her hard. She shifted her weight to relieve the ache between her legs. “What about your mother?”

Gavin grinned. “She likes your spirit. She says I usually walk all over women, and Mama admires strength.”

“Funny, I’ve never met them before this.”

He tilted her chin up. “I kept you away from my family because I knew they’d fall in love with you, and then I’d have nothing left to fight.”

She ached to smooth back the unruly curl that fell across his forehead. Trace the heavy line of his brow, the thrust of his jaw, the sensual curve to his lower lip. Instead, she cleared her throat. “Want to give me a full tour?”

He allowed her the space and nodded. “Of course.”

She followed him deeper into the back. Half of the tables were filled, and the clean white tablecloths mocked the loss of the majority of customers.

“I want to show you my vision,” he said. “We were losing a lot of clientele because we lacked features that mark the more New World Italian restaurants.” He stopped at the large modern bar, where the bartender chatted with one of the customers, refilling her glass of red wine. “We renovated the bar for the after work crowd, and added an appetizer menu to bulk up customers at lunch and happy hour.”

“I assume your parents didn’t approve of these renovations?”

“They threw a fit. After I found out Mia Casa was on the verge of bankruptcy, I used my money to overhaul the place and hopefully draw in a new client base. But Mia Casa has always been built on tradition, so my family was afraid we’d lose all the solid customers that started our business in the first place. I’m looking for a balance.”

She nodded. “You’re right. How are you trying to draw people in?”

“We’re advertising entertainment on weekends now. Come on, I’ll show you the lounge.” They walked into the back room, which was set up with a sleek black piano and dance floor. Rich Tuscan landscape paintings and tapestries hung on the walls, and simple arrangements of fresh flowers rested on low tables. Candles filled the room and added to the intimate atmosphere.

“It’s beautiful. I like the way you set up the seating. There’s enough space in between tables to guarantee privacy.”

“That’s what I wanted. Tonight is the grand opening of the lounge. Our singer starts at nine.”

Her lip twitched. “Lady GaGa?”

His face was deadpan. “No, Kid Rock.”

She laughed. “Your mother will be thrilled.”

“Hey, Gavin! I got a huge problem at table four, I need you now—oh, hi, Miranda.” Brando stopped short in front of them. “How ya doing?”

“Good, Brando. How’s Tracey?”

He beamed. “She’s great. She told me you went to check out her pizza place and that you told the manager she was one of the best waitresses in town.”

Gavin lifted his brow. “You actually went to that dive in the Village?”

Brando stuck out his lower lip. “It’s not a dive, they have the best Sicilian. Right, Miranda?”

“I have to agree with your younger brother. Sal’s Slice is certainly not a dive.”

Gavin groaned. “I can’t believe this. You trash Mia Casa and give four stars to his girlfriend’s pizza place.”

“I call them as I see them.”

“Yeah, Gavin. If you didn’t act like such an idiot years ago, maybe she’d have given us a break. And she was right. The broccoli rabe sucked.”

Gavin put up a hand. “No more. Don’t give the woman ammunition. I’m trying to convince her to do a second review.”

Brando snorted. “She never does second reviews. Get over it.”

She bit her lip hard.

“So you’ve been reminding me. What’s the trouble with table four?”

“They want me to bring over a side of sauce for their linguini.”

“So?”

“They’re having the linguini with garlic and oil.”

Gavin winced. “You can’t put sauce over that type of dish.”

“Yeah, but they’re not Italian. They don’t get it. Anyway, Tony refuses to give them the sauce. Says it will ruin his reputation.”

Gavin shook his head. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Hey, can I work the bar?”

“You’re under age.”

The famous pout rested on Brando’s lips. “I won’t drink, I just want to serve. I’m sick of waiting tables.”

Gavin sighed and turned to her. “Would you excuse me for a moment? I need to get some things settled with the staff.”

“Sure, go ahead. I’ll sit at the bar.”

The brothers left the room and a grin tugged at her lips. She’d never seen this side of her old lover. Watching him not so in control of the elements made him more approachable. Human. A flare of hope ignited. Was it possible to get a second chance?

Or did Gavin just want to save his family restaurant?

Miranda pushed away the disturbing question and headed toward the bar.

…

He wasn’t happy.

Miranda threw back her head and laughed at something the bartender said. A rush of possessiveness settled over him, and his hands clenched around the china as he fought the urge to howl and drag her away. He knew Dominick was happily married, but it didn’t stop the man’s gaze from roaming appreciatively over her body. And he seemed to lean in a bit too close when he spoke.

“No, I asked for the chicken Parmesan,” Gavin’s customer told him as he set the plate down.

“I’m sorry, my mistake.” He shook his head to clear it and switched the plates to their correct positions. “Can I get you another glass of wine?”

“No, thanks, Gavin. How about some more bread?”

He nodded. “I’ll be right back, Mr. Diamonte.”

Gavin muttered a curse as he hurried back to the kitchen. He’d invited her out for a romantic evening and ended up taking over the role of waiter. He was going to kill Brando. His half-hour break now stretched to over an hour. Probably making out with Tracey in the car, and God knows that could take forever. Gavin glanced once more to his date, but she seemed perfectly at ease with Dominick’s company. And Antonio’s. And Pop’s. Hell, even the singer he hired stopped to introduce himself and chat. Everyone seemed to get a chance to enjoy her company except him.

The smell of smoke made him turn left. He stopped at the corner table where Pop and his Sinatra crew played cards, drank wine, and snuck cigarettes. When had he become the straight one in the family? “Pop, what are you doing?”

His father waved him off. “Cosmo isn’t hurting anyone by having a quick smoke.”

Gavin crossed his arms over his chest and gave him his best hard ass stare. The other members of the group ignored him and concentrated on their hand. Cosmo was second in charge, evident in his appearance. A thick gray mustache set off a face that would make any gangster proud, but he’d gone bald years ago. His thick black glasses hid a sharp gaze that had run a successful place in Little Italy, before he gave it up to his two sons and hung out with his posse across town.

“Cigarettes kill you. Gives you cancer, stroke, and heart attack. Is that what you all want?”

Cosmo snorted in a cloud of smoke. “Sinatra smoked every day of his life and made it into his nineties. This world has become too soft.”

The third member of the group, Vinnie, nodded. Instead of wine, his fingers clasped the tiny shot glasses of Grappa. Gavin always wondered how the man walked straight. The grainy Italian liquor was hard-core, and he drank it all night long without even a slight buzz marring his poker game. Vinnie sported the old-fashioned white button-down shirt, slacks, and sports jacket. Old school about his appearance, he always showed up dressed like he was going out on a hot date rather than getting drunk at the bar with his friends.

Vinnie hummed the first bar of a song. Pop jumped in. “Don’t Worry About Me,” he boomed.

Cosmo cursed. “I shoulda had that one.”

Gavin blew out a breath. Didn’t they ever talk in anything but Sinatra code? “Fine, if I won’t change your mind by threats of death, how about jail? You’re breaking the law. No smoking inside of restaurants. Put it out, Cosmo.”

The thick gold ring around his finger gleamed in the light. He muttered something in Italian and stubbed out the cigarette. “Ridiculous. You’re gonna ruin my game.”

Pop glared at him.

He confiscated the ashtray and the lighters. “No more smoking.”

Cosmo glanced at his hand and threw in two more chips. “Luck Be A Lady Tonight, gentlemen.”

The men grumbled and went back to their game.

Gavin smothered a laugh and left. He dropped off a basket of bread and checked Antonio’s progress in the kitchen. His chef shook his head in disgust when he entered. “You are screwing up again, Gavin.”

“I’m trying to keep the evening running smoothly. Who would’ve thought Pop hung out with the bad crowd?”

“You will lose your lady. You haven’t even danced with her tonight, and you leave her in the company of Dominick for entertainment.”

“He’s married with kids.”

Antonio sighed. “He cheats on his wife. This I know for a fact.”

Gavin paused for a beat, then ripped off his apron. “When Brando gets here, tell him to set up cappuccino for table five. I’m taking a break.”

He strode to the bar and took a seat next to her. She tapped the edge of her glass with one cherry red fingernail as she listened to Dominick amuse her with stories about the business. Gavin casually reached under the bar and slid one hand to the top of her thigh, stopping at the hem of her short black dress. Her quick indrawn breath danced in his ears.

Dominick seemed to sense her distraction and paused. “Hey, Gavin, how are you? Just keeping this lovely lady company while you take care of business.”

Gavin smiled. “How’s Deborah doing? And the kids, of course.”

Color stained the man’s cheeks. “Uh, fine, just fine. Be right back.” He flew to the end of the bar and left them alone.

Miranda glanced at him from under lowered lashes. “Were you trying to prove a point?”

His fingers glided over her silk-clad legs, and her sleek muscles flexed under his touch. He grew to rock hard status and shifted uncomfortably as he imagined stripping off that dress and getting her naked and ready. Damn, she was beautiful. Classy. Sexy. It’d be a miracle if he got through the evening without taking her in the stockroom. Instead, he focused on conversation. “I just asked about his family. You knew he had a family, right?”

She emitted a throaty gasp when his hand dipped under the sensitive flesh behind her knee. “The subject never came up, but I did notice the wedding ring. You didn’t have to play the role of possessive caveman, you know. What are you doing?”

“Touching you.” He gritted his teeth as the wave of lust hit him hard. “I’m frustrated. I’ve been watching you all night, smiling and laughing with other men, and all I want to do is hold you in my arms. Strip off that little black dress. Kiss you, make you moan, drive inside you over and over—”

“Gavin!” Her lower lip trembled. “Don’t say those things. And no—no touching.”

He reluctantly let his fingers drop from the path of Eden. “Why?”

“Because. You’re not getting me into bed tonight just because you invited me out once. Plus, we’re in a public place.”

He shot her a grin. “Never stopped us before.”

Sexual tension squeezed between them. A flash of recognition crossed her face. Gavin remembered the times they met for lunch, and ended up racing to the nearest taxicab to get home. The hands under the table. The whispers behind menus. And of course, the time in the unisex bathroom…

“We’re in your parents’ restaurant.” She reached for her wine glass. “I’m not like that anymore. I was more impulsive, and now I’m interested in sophisticated conversation. Friendship. Dependability.”

He chuckled. “All that stuff is good, baby, but if the chemistry isn’t right, you’ll end up with a nice friend who happens to be in bed with you. For the rest of your life.”

“If you settle for just sex, you won’t have anyone waking up with you in the morning. Six weeks and he’ll be running for the door.”

Gavin laughed. “Nice hit.” He stroked her hair, then ran a finger down her cheek. She shuddered. “That’s why we’re going to have both.”

Her pupils dilated. If he pushed hard, she’d buckle. But he didn’t want to win her body. He craved more. His past actions stripped away her confidence in him, and he longed to heal the wounds. Gavin wanted her to feel safe in his arms again. Words wouldn’t convince her. Sex wouldn’t, either. Just time, though he didn’t have much left.

The calls were beginning. The company wanted him back sooner, and though his official leave gave him eight more weeks, the pressure was on for him to take over an important foreign deal. The younger associate didn’t have the skills, and MacKenzie & Associates were afraid of a screw up. They needed a closer.

Him.

He pushed away the thought and concentrated on the present. How long had he lived by the creed of bigger, better, and now? Never able to enjoy his success in the moment, and never satisfied for long. His time in India clarified what he needed to do. Slow down. Focus. Savor. And be grateful for all.

Starting with Miranda.

“Will you dance with me?” His voice came out hoarse. Crap, he felt like he was at prom with sweaty palms, hoping not to get shot down. “For a little while I want to hold you and close my eyes. Pretend I hadn’t fucked up. Pretend you belong to me again.”

Her startled gaze studied his face for a long time. Without a word, she slid her hand into his and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. The singer was a nice blend of old and new, offering classics for the traditional crowd earlier on, then switching to current popular songs for the younger partiers. Gavin stopped and motioned him over, giving his request, then eased Miranda into his arms.

She fit in his arms as if they’d never been apart. The years melted away and became a distant memory. His body remembered the familiar rhythm and settled as if he was home. Thigh brushed against thigh, and his hips cradled hers. He buried his hands in the silky waves curling down her back, and the tight nubs of her nipples against his chest told him she was just as aroused. The creamy tone of I’ve Got You Under My Skin drifted in his ears.

“God, Red, you could always drive a man to his knees.”

Her thigh slid between his legs and her knee lifted slightly. He sucked in his breath as the slither of silk rushed past his ears, and warm flesh pressed against his erection. Her body trembled, and a fierce rush of satisfaction shot through him. His lady may fight her emotions, but on a primitive scale, her body surrendered.

“I won’t go to bed with you tonight, Gavin.”

A strangled laugh escaped his lips at her candor. “You always did know how to let a man down easy. Do you think I’d force you?”

Miranda snorted. “Your skills of persuasion were worse. But I won’t let you seduce me. I meant what I said. I need friendship and trust. I don’t want to be impulsive anymore.”

Worry nibbled at his usual confidence. “I know. I don’t expect you to be the same person. It’s just that I feel this wall around you, and I don’t know how to fight through.” He forced a smile. “But I don’t expect miracles. I knew this would take time.”

“Gavin—”

“Hush.” He dropped a kiss on her temple and held her closer. “The song’s almost over.”

They were quiet for a while and moved gracefully across the floor. “I remember Sinatra songs used to make you cry.”

She hesitated. “I don’t cry. Not anymore.”

His arms tightened around her but he didn’t respond. Another scar. One he’d probably caused. What had happened after he left? Had another asshole hurt her? Betrayed her trust? A wave of anger rushed over him when he thought of the laughing, open woman she’d been when they met. The thought he’d accomplished it all by himself disgusted him. How selfish he’d been. How much he needed to make up for.

Applause swept through the room at the close of the song. Gavin led her back to the main dining room. “Did Tony set you up with an appetizer sample?” he asked.

She shot him a look. “Yes. He let me gorge for free and then mentioned he had three kids to support if the restaurant went under.”

Gavin laughed. “I swear I didn’t put him up to that.”

“Hmm. You did always prefer the direct approach.”

He paused. “We’re all invested in Mia Casa. I’m sure you take that into consideration every time you rate a restaurant with low marks. Don’t you?”

She flinched. Yes, there was definitely a flare of guilt and rebellion in those gorgeous eyes. “Sure. But I told the truth, and that’s what counts.”

“I know. But I also noticed when you rated Billy’s Steak House three stars, you made note the meat was tough, the service was poor, but you concentrated on the entire experience. Did you do that with us, Miranda?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but looked over his shoulder with a frown. “Gavin, what’s going on over there?”

His gaze followed her curious stare to where a small crowd gathered around one of the tables. He spotted Brando standing a few feet away, apparently frozen by the scene. Then he heard the scream.

“He’s choking! Somebody, please help him!”

Ignoring his rapidly pounding heart, Gavin raced to the center of the group. A young man clutched at his throat. His eyes bulged and his skin turned an odd purple color.

He tried five hard slaps in the middle of his shoulder blades. When nothing dislodged, Gavin grabbed the man from behind, slipped his arms around his stomach, and made a fist with his two hands. Quickly finding the right position, he gave one upward thrust.

Nothing.

Gavin took a deep breath and remained calm. Deliberately shutting out the noise and panic around him, he repositioned his hands and once again jerked upward.

Something dislodged from the man’s throat and flew across the room.

The man gasped for air. Gavin almost sank to the floor in relief as he let him go, stepping back as the woman threw herself into the man’s arms, crying. After a few moments, he tried to calm the other patrons and guided them back to their tables.

“Are you okay, sir?” he asked the young man.

Gratitude shone in the man’s eyes. “Yes. God, it all happened so fast, and I couldn’t get a breath. I don’t know how to thank you.”

The woman tearfully agreed.

Gavin shook his head. “You don’t have to, I’m just glad you’re all right.” He chatted with them a few moments, then left to search for Miranda.

She stood at the back of the room. A strange expression flickered across her face. “You saved his life.”

He shifted his feet uncomfortably. Ah, hell, he didn’t want that hero shit. “Any of my staff members could have helped him. We’re all trained to handle choking using abdominal thrusts. It’s part of the requirement.”

“I’m sure they could. But there were other servers in that room, and nobody moved. They were in shock.”

He frowned. “Funny, I thought I saw Brando by their table. Did you see him?”

She nodded. “He went out back after everyone calmed down. I think he’s upset.”

“I have to talk to him. Will you wait for me a little longer?”

She smiled, slow and sweet, and his heart stuttered. “Yes.”

He made a mental note to thank her properly later and went in search of his brother.

The smell of smoke wafted in the air as he shut the door behind him. Brando leaned against the wall near the Dumpster. He took a drag on his cigarette and stared out into the night. One look told him his younger brother struggled with some demons.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

Brando gave him a disgusted look. “You don’t know a lot of things about me. And Pop doesn’t know, either, so don’t go trying to tattle.”

A smile tugged at his lips. “It’s your life. If you want to die young, feel free.” Silence settled between them. The familiar sounds of the city drifted in the background. The stench of food and garbage rose up to greet him. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

The tip of the cigarette glowed fiercely in the darkness. “You’re pissed at me, aren’t you, Brando?”

His younger brother shrugged. “Why would I be mad at you? You’re perfect. You leave the family and become rich. You travel around the world and see exotic places. Then when you decide to come home, Pop flings open his arms and gives over the restaurant. Hell, you even know how to save a man’s life. Who can compete?”

Gavin leaned over and plucked a cigarette from the pack. The hell with it. He was tired of being the smoking police. Brando opened his mouth to protest, but fascination seemed to win as he watched Gavin take a long drag.

“You’re right,” he said. “I do sound perfect, don’t I? But I took the easy route. I left. You stayed. You gave Pop hope you’d run the restaurant and love it the way he does. I’m only the guy with the money.” Regret coursed through him at the loss. “Pop wants to see you go to college, get an education, and come back and kick ass. This is your inheritance, Brando. I’m just trying to keep it going until you claim it.”

Brando frowned. “But Pop always said Mia Casa was yours.”

A grim smile curved his lips. “I gave up my opportunity when I left. I want to use my money to make it great again, but Pop always said a restaurant is only sustained through heart. You’re the heart, Brando.”

“I screwed up.” Self-disgust flicked through his words. “I want to do better, but I’m worried all the time. Afraid if I don’t give Tracey enough time, she’ll leave me. Afraid I’ll just be a glorified waiter instead of the real owner. I’m not responsible enough to inherit Mia Casa.”

The truth of his brother’s fear hit deep and reminded him so much of his own worries. Trapped by the same daily routine. Terrified of failure and craving to make his own mark, in his own way. He rarely had the opportunity to talk straight to his younger brother, especially after he left for so many years.

Gavin dragged in a breath. “Listen up. You’re supposed to be a bit irresponsible. Hell, you just graduated high school, Brando, give yourself a break. When I started, I was a waiter for a long time—that’s how you learn the business, from the ground up. But you’re not running away. You want to study, stay, learn. And I believe you can.”

His brother flicked the ash and seemed to contemplate his words. “Yeah, but you do things,” he burst out. “Back inside, I knew that man was choking. I saw him, and I should have been able to do something. Instead, I just stood there and watched. I couldn’t move. If you hadn’t been there he would have—” he turned his head away.

Gavin kept his voice gentle. “Do you think at seventeen years old I could have done any different? That was an intense scene, and sometimes you shut down. Shit happens. Dominick was also in the room, and he had the same problem. I may have been able to move, but I was scared out of my mind.”

“You were?”

“Hell, yes, do you think I’m Superman? I wasn’t sure I could get the thing out of his throat, and then I’d be responsible for his death.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Brando flung the butt on the ground and crushed it beneath his shoe. “Did Pop see any of the scene?”

“No, he was in the kitchen with Tony.”

“Are you gonna tell him?”

“No reason to.”

Brando nodded. “Thanks.”

“Nothing to tell. Of course, if he catches you smoking, you’re screwed.”

“He smokes with his posse.”

Gavin rolled his eyes. “He’s just showing off for them. He’s always been against cigarettes.”

“I only have one when I’m stressed. I don’t like it much, anyway.”

“Okay. I better get inside to Miranda.” He opened the door but his brother’s voice made him turn back around. “Yeah?”

Brando hesitated. “I know Pop forgives you for leaving. So do I.”

Relief rushed through him. He hadn’t realized how badly he wanted his brother to understand his regrets. The distance between them melted away. He remembered the day he left. Brando stood on the curb with ferocious resentment and something deeper. Something that kept him up at night the same way Miranda haunted him.

Betrayal.

He’d hurt the people he loved the most. Back then, he didn’t give a shit. Today, he knew he’d give up all his money to build back the foundation with them both. His throat tightened with wimpy emotion but he forced himself to sound casual. “Thanks.”

“Gavin?”

“Hmm?”

“I think Miranda Storme will eventually forgive you, too.”

“God, I hope so. I broke up with her in an email.”

His brother winced. “Bad move, dude. She still looks into you, though. You probably need to really dig deep. Tell her all your feelings and stuff. Girls like that.”

Gavin laughed. “I’m trying. But I’m dealing with a ticking time bomb. She knows I need to leave soon, so she’s afraid to trust me.”

Brando crinkled his brow. “I don’t get it. Why start something with her you may not be able to continue?”

“I’m gonna take her with me.” The truth smacked him like a wet towel. Until he uttered the words, he hadn’t known how he’d handle the problem of his job. He had a few weeks left to gain back her trust. Her love. Then he’d ask her to come with him.

Miranda never had the ability to travel and see the world. He imagined showing her various cultures and feasting on gourmet food. She’d probably love writing for an international magazine about her experiences. They’d build a new life on their own terms.

Yes. This was a win/win.

“Good plan. But I don’t think she’ll do the second review.”

Gavin grinned. “You’re probably right. See you back in there.”

“Gavin?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

His chest tightened and he tried to make sure his voice didn’t sound girly. “No problem.”

Gavin shut the door behind him.

…

He had saved a life.

Miranda sipped her Chianti in the new lounge and let the lyrics of Tony Bennett soothe her ears. The way Gavin reacted to the crisis gave her a glimpse of both the new and old Gavin. Smoothly in control, he was still able to wrest the lead in a situation and follow it through. That part never surprised her.

It was the other half. His true humbleness from the gesture. In the past, he wore his arrogance like a cloak, sure of himself in every area. The way he quickly hurried after his brother and didn’t linger on his current hero status told her he’d changed.

Which did not bode well for her decision to never see him again.

A familiar voice jolted her thoughts.

“Miranda Eats?”

Her gaze flew up to a face she would have rather avoided. Especially tonight. “Allison Speaks.” She practically growled the word of her die-hard competitor. The woman hated her and focused her mission on sabotaging Miranda’s career. Allison Wheaton, food critic extraordinaire and mortal enemy, stood before her. Her proper appearance even on a Friday evening bespoke a woman always on the hunt for the next great find. Her signature black consisted of a pencil skirt, proper pumps, and a silk blouse. Elegant, understated, sophisticated. Too bad her dark eyes were flat and mean as a shark about to bite.

“Slumming, Storme?”

“Following me again, Wheaton?” she drawled.

The woman drew herself up and flicked her a cold glance. “As if. We were at the Met and decided to stop for a drink.”

Interest stirred. “Pagliacci?”

“Yes. It was divine, as I thought.”

“How was the final arietta?” The opera was her second favorite, haunting and constructed for the real diehards of opera. Its earthy, raw nature bespoke its Italian heritage, and the tragic ending always gave her sleepless nights.

Allison lost her edge for a moment and sighed. “Breathtaking. Canio has a voice as dark and deep as bittersweet chocolate. And Nedda is able to linger and lengthen a note for what seemed like decades. I’m so ruined I needed other music to drown out her voice.”

Miranda made a mental note to get tickets no matter who she dragged with her. “Well, Tony Bennett should accomplish the feat.”

Her nose twitched. “Not really. I’m not sure how I feel about this brand new lounge. I see the overall concept to achieve but don’t think it works.”

Protectiveness roared up. “I think it’s exactly what’s needed in this area. A combination of old and new world we rarely see.”

“You trashed this place. What are you doing here?”

“None of your business. Go find your own restaurants to trash.” Her gaze settled on the man walking up behind her. “Are you still with that dirtbag?”

Allison sucked in her breath. Glints of rage spit out at her. “You’re just jealous he stayed with me after you threw yourself at him.”

Miranda clenched her fists and lowered her voice. “I told you over and over. He came on to me while you were in the other room. I kneed him in the balls and did you a favor by telling you. Even you’re better than this, Allison. And that’s not saying much.”

The famous French chef, known worldwide for his sauces and philandering, pressed a kiss to Allison’s shoulder and cut her a cold glare. “Darling, we should go. I don’t like to see you upset.”

Miranda snorted. “Good luck, buddy. She’s upset twenty-four hours a day.”

Allison stuck her nose in the air. “Check out Gourmet magazine’s issue this month. I’m featured.”

“No way. They’re supposed to run my featured interview this month.”

Triumph shone from her features. “Let’s just say I pulled a few strings and got them to change their mind. You’re on your way out, Storme, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Jealousy fought with her need to stay civil. How was it possible? Gourmet always booked months in advance, and she’d been counting on the publicity to raise stats for her new column. “You’re not going any place good, Wheaton, if you’re still with him.” She jerked her thumb at her companion, who stiffened. He hurried her rival out, soothing her with sugary words that meant nothing, and Miranda drained her glass. Adrenalin rushed through her, a normal response when confronting Allison. She stood up from the table and decided to hunt down Gavin to take her home. She was exhausted and she needed to do some rational thinking about her actions. Did she want to see Gavin again? Her body slammed to life with the answer of hell, yes. Her heart cringed in mortal fear. She’d go home, make some tea, and think in a quiet space.

Satisfied, Miranda threaded her way through the crowds toward the kitchen. Then stopped at the scene in front of her. A group of three men, including Gavin’s father, leaned over a small card table, smoking. One of those smokeless fans had been set up but it wasn’t doing its job, from the trickle of smoke surrounding them. Cards flew through their hands and snippets of their conversation drifted toward her.

“Nah, the rat pack from the fifties were better than the sixties. Can’t mess with Bogie, he was the master.”

A man dressed impeccably in a wool jacket, leather shoes, and fedora gripped his cigar in his teeth and managed to spit. “Bull. Sixties ruled. Sinatra took over as main leader, and Dean and Sammy came to play. That’s who the public really remembers.”

Gavin’s father raised his voice and threw a card in the middle. “Agreed. Ocean’s Eleven brought the whole buddy movie into the spotlight. No one is better than the second crew and that’s the end of it.”

The last member in the threesome lost his temper. Dressed in a wife-beater T-shirt, old man’s pants, and footgear that resembled slippers, his face reddened in fury. “Did you just say that to me? Did you? Ocean’s Eleven did not make the buddy movie popular! Marlon Brando and James Dean brought that element of coolness into the fifties. Anyway, Bogie has always been named the greatest actor. Sinatra couldn’t act to save his life.”

Gavin’s father stood up from the table. His whole body shook as if with fever, and Miranda held her breath, not sure what to do. Rage peppered his words. “You will never speak that way about Frank again. Get out! Out of my restaurant!”

Miranda mashed her hand against her lips, caught between giggling and breaking up a cockfight.

Gavin swooped in. Red stains splattered his apron and crusted his black pants. Sweat trickled from his brow and matted the lone curl that spilled across his forehead. Stress carved out the lines of his face and bracketed his mouth. Fascinated, the scene unfolded before her.

“Okay, boys, enough Grappa for tonight. Pop, sit down, Cosmo didn’t mean it. Did you, Cosmo?”

The other man gave a humph. “Tell him to stop slandering Bogey and I’ll stop with Frank.”

Gavin plucked the bottle of white liquid from the table, and stabbed out their cigars. “Pop, cut it out with torturing Cosmo. You’ve seen Casablanca and The Maltese Falcon a million times.”

“Maybe.”

The friction eased. He waved his hand frantically through the air as smoke wafted to the main dining room. “If anyone here lights one more cigar, you’re outta here. I don’t need a citation or face closing down the place for breaking the smoke laws. Bogey and Sinatra respected and cared about each other. Fighting over them is a crime.”

Cosmo grunted in agreement. “Giovanni is right. I apologize. We should never pit the rat pack against each other. It is a betrayal of all that was good.”

Vinnie and Gavin’s father nodded their head. The tension eased, and they were once again a group of friends playing cards. “Let’s switch to five card stud. Ante up, gentlemen. Giovanni, can we get some tiramisu for the table?”

“Sure, be right back.”

Gavin hurried forward with a worried expression. “Miranda, I’m so sorry. I meant to take you home, but one of the new waiters got into Tony’s station and there was a slight gravy fight I’m trying to help clean up.”

“A gravy fight?”

Gavin groaned. “Tony is very possessive of his ingredients. One of the customers complained it needed more heat, so the new waiter tried to sneak back and put in pepper. Tony caught him. A food fight ensued. I need some ingredients from the storeroom, and now I’m down a waiter since the new guy just took off.”

“Isn’t there salt and pepper on the tables already?”

He winced. “Tony refuses to allow it. Said his food is always cooked to perfection and no other seasoning is needed. We’ve tried sneaking it on the tables a few times, but he always catches it.”

Miranda studied the man before her. The composed, multi-millionaire, cutthroat advertising executive had transformed into a regular guy babysitting his family and trying to save the restaurant he didn’t even want to work in.

A strange warmth bubbled up inside her and melted the wall of ice. “Well, then, I guess I better get to work. Do you have a spare apron?”

He shook his head. “Hell, no, you are not going to waitress tonight. I’ll manage and take you home in a few.”

“Gavin, I worked in restaurants during my studies at the culinary. I know what to do, and you need the help. Now, get me a spare apron and let’s finish this up before the Sinatra club decides to go for another round.”

He hesitated, obviously torn. Practicality won and he let out a breath. “Okay. I’ll be humiliated later. Right now, I’ll take the help.”

She grinned. “Apron, please.”

The next few hours whizzed past. She enjoyed the fast pace, and fell into the old rhythm she’d learned at the culinary, balancing speed with quality service, helping clear and turn over tables quickly to maximize profit. Dominick and Tony enjoyed an easy camaraderie filled with jokes that made the evening enjoyable.

Her most fun was watching Gavin.

Like Hook running a ship of pirates, he kept a firm hand on the staff’s tendency to slack off and morph from organized business to family chaos. His perfect suit and tie were now mussed and slightly wrinkled. He snapped orders, performed round after round of checks in the kitchen, the bar, the tables, and the lounge. He kept his father and cronies in line, and a sharp eye on his younger brother. His entire body vibrated with both tension and an energy she knew personally could be focused on any activity he chose. Like sex.

By the time the last patron left, the dishes were cleaned, and the lounge closed, her feet throbbed and she ached to sleep for ten hours straight. Thank God she had a lazy type of job. She gave a silent prayer of gratitude to all the hard workers in the service industry and leaned against the mahogany bar. “That was intense.”

Gavin laughed and waved to his brother and Dominick. “Yeah. I get to do this tomorrow, too. Not to mention meeting the supplier at six am in order to get Tony his ingredients to prep.” He slid into the bar stool beside her. “Thank you.”

She looked up, startled. A flush of warmth crept into her cheeks. “No problem. I kind of enjoyed it. Brought back memories.”

The easy air between them tightened and thrummed with sexual tension. The blood thickened and pumped through her veins with a pure need to touch him. He’d pushed up his shirt sleeves. His arms were sinewy with muscle, covered in golden hair. She ached to run her nails over all that toasty golden skin and dig in deep. A riptide of liquid warmth rushed and settled between her thighs. “Funny, I’ve got my own memories right now.”

“We should go.”

His eyes darkened to navy and seethed with masculine demand and heat. “Not yet. You deserve a reward for saving my ass tonight.”

She opened her mouth and emitted a squeak. Tried again. “How about a discount?”

“Do you think I’m a cheapskate?”

The laugh died in her throat. Suddenly, he was the old Gavin, the dominant lover who took and bestowed bone-shattering pleasure. He reached out and tugged. The stool slid over until she was positioned between his spread thighs. The delicious smell of coffee and smoke and lemon teased her nostrils. Those strong hands settled on her shoulders, lightly, but enough so she experienced the power beneath the gentle touch, the ability to tear clothes and take her hard and fast. “I don’t—I don’t know about this.”

“I do.” He leaned in and stopped an inch from her lips. “One kiss, Red.” His breath whispered. “Please.”

His final plea hit the mark. Just a kiss. On her terms. She could handle it.

Miranda met him the rest of the way. His lips closed on hers.

A moan vibrated through her chest. So different from his usual plunder and assault, he kissed her with a sweetness that broke down her defenses and promised her heaven on earth. His tongue parted the seam of her lips and slid home.

Miranda surrendered.

She opened and gave freely, drunk on his taste and his smell and the touch of his hands on her body. Their tongues touched, played, drank. A burn blossomed deep in her gut and spread. Miranda pressed against him and sought more to slake the need. His hands left her shoulders and he tugged her blouse out of her skirt, sliding his palms over her belly upward to cup her breasts. Her nipples stabbed hard in an effort to be freed, and he obeyed her body’s command, unsnapping the front clasp of her bra.

She bit down on his lip. Her nails curled and dug into his biceps. He groaned and caressed her breasts, flicking her nipples with his thumbs, urging them to tighten and swell and obey his command. She arched.

With a growl, suddenly he lifted her up from the stool and placed her on top of the bar. Never breaking the kiss, he devoured her mouth and pushed her thighs apart. Swollen and ready, she sank into a pit of greed and lust, her body craving release and dominating her usual control. Gavin sensed the change, responding by removing his hand from her breast and sliding under her skirt. Her thighs trembled when he hit the top of her stocking and stroked the bare expanse of flesh between the line of her panties. The scent of her arousal drifted in the air, and like a madman, he lifted the barrier and plunged one finger deep.

She cried out. He swallowed her moans and pleasured her, adding another finger to her drenched core, stretching her channel and rubbing against the hard nub begging for attention. She bucked like a wild woman, too close to the edge, desperate to give him anything. Everything.

“Oh, Jesus, you’re so beautiful. So hot and ready for me. Open wider, yes, like that.”

His thumb rubbed against her clit and his fingers pumped and his teeth sank deep into her lower lip, soothing with his tongue. The orgasm shimmered before her in all its haunting glory.

“Gavin!”

“Come for me, baby. Now.”

Her climax ripped through her body. She screamed but he swallowed the sound. His fingers ruthlessly milked out her orgasm and the aftershocks caused mini convulsions. The pleasure went on until her body wrung dry, and she slumped against him.

Oh. My. God.

The image hit her full force. Spread-eagled on a bar in his family’s restaurant. His erection pounding and pressing against her thigh. The ragged pants from both of them mixing and mingling in the sudden silence.

What had she done?

He slowly removed his fingers, eliciting another aftershock. “I’m sorry.” The words burst out of her like a cannon blast. “I didn’t mean to—I’m sorry.”

His gentle smile rocked her foundation. Where was his push to dominate the scene? The smooth seduction and dirty words that would confirm he’d be buried deep inside of her in the next few minutes? Instead, he tugged down her skirt and shifted his position. “What you just gave me was a gift. A priceless gift. Seeing you shatter in my arms again, touching you, kissing you. That’s enough for me, baby.”

His sensual lips curved in a smirk. “I’m gonna grab a glass of ice water and take you home. Okay?”

She ran a palm down his cheek. “Okay.”

With a quick kiss on her forehead, he lifted her from the bar and set her on her feet. Filled up a glass with ice, guzzled it down, and hit the lights. Then offered his hand to hers.

Miranda took it. Interlaced her fingers with his. And let him lead her out of the restaurant.