Walk On The Wild Side
Donna Kauffman
Chicago heiress Sunny Chandler was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Now she's determined to take a walk on the wild side–and take the first job she comes across. But "kitchen helper" in a cozy Italian restaurant is a stretch even for cool, elegant Sunny!Nick D'Angelo was practically born with a cooking spoon in his fist. He runs the family restaurant with an iron hand, keeping his meddlesome siblings and matchmaking grandmother in line. The last thing he needs is sexy Sunny trying to find herself while wreaking havoc in his kitchen.Although he wouldn't mind the leggy blonde wreaking havoc in his bedroom. In fact, Nick is tempted to take a walk on the wild side, too…
Sunny snuggled deeply into the pillow…
A second later she shot up in her bed. Only, it wasn’t her bed. Or even night. Sun was shining in the bedroom window.
“What’s wrong?” Nick tugged her arm till she turned.
Just looking at him took her breath away. All dark and tawny, sprawled in white cotton sheets. There should be a law against looking so sinful and downright inviting. Her body was already gearing up to accept that invitation, too.
“I have to leave,” she said nervously.
“There you go, having to do something again.” He shifted and the sheet moved dangerously low on his hips. “What’s really wrong?”
Her mouth went dry. “I—I spent the night.”
“And this is a problem—why?”
“Because I don’t spend the night.”
Nick propped himself up on his pillow. “Oh?”
“Spending the night leads to speculation,” she said. “On the part of the person you spend it with.”
Nick grinned and reached for her. “And what’s wrong with that…?”
Donna Kauffman is the award-winning, nationally bestselling author of eighteen contemporary romance novels. She worked as a bookkeeper, dog groomer, people groomer, art instructor and competitive bodybuilder before turning to storytelling. She began writing while expecting her first child, put the manuscript aside, then finished it during a second pregnancy. That book became her first published novel. She’s since written many more, calling on both imagination and background in order to create compelling, innovative stories.
Walk on the Wild Side is Donna’s debut book for Temptation. It’s a fun, sexy story about a wealthy heroine who longs to take a walk in the real world, albeit temporarily. The passion and love she finds with Nick is worth the trip alone. Look for more books from this talented writer who loves to hear from her fans. Check out her Web site at www.donnakauffman.com (http://www.donnakauffman.com). Enjoy!
Walk on the Wild Side
Donna Kauffman
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated to my “sister,” Jill Shalvis.
Families aren’t always the ones you’re born into.
Thanks for taking that first step and making us a family.
Contents
Prologue (#ua7bf8dbf-ddb6-5e76-a7e9-729f0d6b1f32)
Chapter 1 (#u594d7606-24b2-55e5-bdd6-92b02ae142e9)
Chapter 2 (#u73a964ce-f3ad-5987-8e17-eaade15c180a)
Chapter 3 (#ue66a178f-a000-5e6d-9d7d-e2d29d0d36ef)
Chapter 4 (#u3c43c325-93c3-5bc0-8588-14e97f034bc6)
Chapter 5 (#uf54f8838-39fd-5fda-bced-b617e748611c)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
“YOUR PLACE is with the family, heading the company,” said Edwin Chandler, rebuking his granddaughter. “There will be no further nonsense about this…this sabbatical you wish to take.”
Susan Haddon Chandler kept her gaze focused outside the tinted limousine window. Otherwise the sight of her grandfather’s sharply disapproving expression might just tempt her to strangle him. Which would be exceedingly foolish. Then she’d have to take over the business immediately.
“Susan, are you paying attention? I didn’t raise you to be rude.”
No, she thought wearily, she was raised to be cold, unfeeling, totally focused on business and the bottom line—exactly like her grandparents were. To hell with love, life and anything resembling a good time.
And she hated being called Susan. Her grandparents were the only people in her life who didn’t call her Sunny. That nickname was the one nice thing her father had given her before he and her mother had died in a yacht racing accident right before her fifth birthday.
Almost from that day forward, she’d known this day was coming. She’d always believed that she’d somehow find a way to accept the inevitable when the time came. Every other person in her graduating class had clutched their diploma like the ticket to freedom it represented.
She hadn’t, though. Her degrees represented a one-way ticket to life imprisonment inside the block of cold granite and steel that housed Chandler Enterprises. She would be expected to remain in her suite of rooms in Haddon Hall, the ancestral home of her maternal great-great-grandmother, where her grandparents could continue to monitor her every breath.
How did she say, “Thanks, but no thanks,” to the people who had given her everything?
She hazarded a glance at her grandfather and felt her spirits sink even lower. There were no words that would penetrate that stubborn piece of stone he called a heart.
“Grandfather, I’m not trying to upset you,” she began.
“Well, you’re going about it very well indeed. I’m not getting any younger. It’s time to curb this foolishness.”
Her grandfather was seventy-eight. But he still put in a full workweek and then some. She knew he would continue to do so until he dropped dead, preferably while heading an international board meeting, closing yet another multimillion-dollar deal. She was fairly certain there was a clause somewhere on her birth certificate that said she was expected to do the same.
“I’m finally done with grad school. I don’t think it’s foolish to want to spend some time on my own,” she reasoned. “You know how much I appreciate all you and Grandmother have done for me. And I’m not turning my back on Chandler Enterprises.” The critical look he gave her only firmed her resolve. She was no shrinking violet. Edwin had seen to that early on. Well, now he would have to deal with the mini-me he’d created.
“I fully intend to take my place in the company,” she told him. “But you have no intentions of stepping down any time soon. Six months will not alter our plans significantly. I’m only twenty-five. I have the rest of my life to devote to Chandler Enterprises. I’m only asking for six months.”
“You had plenty of time on your own in school.”
No, I didn’t, she thought stubbornly. Her grandparents had chosen the sorority she pledged, made certain she only roomed with girls from suitable families and checked up on her constantly. That was when they weren’t demanding she fly home every other week for some social function or other.
She tried again. “It’s not like I’m planning to cut myself off from you and Grandmother. I’ll even stay here in Chicago. I just need enough time to learn a bit more about who I am—”
“The one thing you can certainly never doubt is who you are, Susan. And six months might as well be an eternity. You know about the upcoming merger. If you are to ever head this company, now is the time to step in, to be in on the new direction we are taking from the day the papers are signed. I expect you to participate in the meetings we have scheduled and more important, I expect you to help Frances and me host the variety of social events that will go hand in hand with this monumental event in the history of Chandler Enterprises. You know as well as I do that more business takes place at those functions than in the boardroom. I expect you to shine, to take your rightful place beside me and move into the inner circle.”
Her grandfather’s words turned into a toneless hum inside her head as her panic began to swell. The more he talked about his expectations, the faster the panic grew. She had to get out. Now.
The limo was taking her from their luncheon meeting, where Edwin had laid out her future in no uncertain terms, to the Chandler Enterprises empire. She had this overwhelming fear that once she arrived inside that building, she’d be locked into her future forever. She had the degree, she had the training, both socially and educationally. But she didn’t have the heart for it.
She wasn’t sure she ever would.
She looked out of the window, despair close to consuming her. And that is when she saw the sign.
Kitchen Help Wanted. Full Time.
“Driver, stop the car!”
“Susan! What in the devil—”
“Stop the car right now, please.”
“Carl, don’t listen to—”
But Carl had pulled the sleek automobile to the curb, and Susan was leaping out. She paused long enough to lean in and beseech her grandfather one last time. “I know you don’t understand this and I’m truly sorry for that. It’s only six months. Then I’ll be the best little Chandler this family has ever bred. I promise.”
Her grandfather’s face was so red she suddenly feared she’d pushed him over the edge into a stroke or a heart attack. She was halfway back in the car when he erupted.
“What I understand is that you’re apparently more immature than Frances and I had assumed. You seriously disappoint me, Susan. This little escapade of yours will cost you far more than it will cost me. You’ll soon find out you don’t know the first thing about living in the so-called real world. You want six months? You won’t last six days.”
That was his final mistake. It was like waving a red flag. Anyone who had ever done business with a Chandler learned very early on to never, ever challenge them. Not if they expected to win. Chandlers always won. Of course, now it was Chandler versus Chandler. Sunny hated that it had come to this, but she’d be damned if she’d back down.
“Then I’ll learn. I’m bright. I have the degrees to prove it.” And with that she closed the door. The door to her past, her carefully planned future and everything she’d ever known.
She turned away and strode to the small Italian restaurant she’d spied from the street. She opened the door and removed the sign from the window. She didn’t know the first thing about what this job involved. But she was a Chandler, and when she left this restaurant today, she’d be leaving it as their newest employee.
She saw the limo pull away from the curb in the reflection of the window. “Goodbye, Chandler Enterprises,” she whispered. She looked at the sign over the door. “Hello, D’Angelos.”
1
THE RESTAURANT DOOR closed behind her. Sunny was immediately assaulted with hot, steamy air. The slow-moving ceiling fans swirled thick scents of sausage and spices and other things she couldn’t name but were making her mouth water and her stomach grumble.
The decor reflected the restaurant’s homey, inviting size. Traditional red-checked tablecloths, slender candles and soft white linen napkins were arranged on every table. There were large round tables dominating the center of the room, where she could picture families boisterously talking as they enjoyed their meals. The walls were dotted with smaller, more intimate tables tucked into alcoves. Those private tables were ideal for a romantic dinner. Vivid Italian landscapes covered the warm yellow walls, vined plants were tucked into ceiling alcoves and draped across the lattice separating the smaller tables.
Everything about D’Angelos was like a warm, welcoming hug.
Everything Chandler Hall had never been.
She was instantly entranced. Fate had brought her here, she was certain of it. If she had any lingering doubts about what she’d just done, she swallowed them.
An older, apron-clad woman came out from the back. She was quite short, and just as stout, with her salt-and-pepper hair caught in a surprisingly lush bun on top of her head. She smiled broadly on seeing Sunny standing there, sign in hand, and Sunny smiled back. It went a long way toward easing the sudden wobbly feeling she had in her knees.
“You’re here for the position?” the woman said, her accent a mix of Italian and pure Chicago.
Sunny stepped forward and held out her hand. “I’m Sunny Chandler, and yes, I’m here for the job.”
The woman took her hand and gave it a shake that almost had Sunny wincing. She had to be close to Edwin’s age, judging from the lines on her face and the mottled skin on the back of her hand. Sunny liked her instantly.
“You have qualifications? References?”
Sunny faltered, but only briefly. Shoulders straight, she held the woman’s gaze and spoke earnestly. “No references, but I trained at the Jean Marc Academy for two years.” And hated every minute. “I graduated with honors.” Although that had mostly been to annoy the insufferable Jean Marc.
“And when did you earn this certificate?”
Sunny’s face heated, but her posture remained proud. “I was fourteen, ma’am.”
The old woman laughed. Heartily.
“Is there a problem? I assure you I’m a quick study and a hard worker.”
“You need this job, eh?” She waved her silent when Sunny started to speak. “You are here, so you are willing. What I wish to know is why you are here.” She motioned to the closest table. “Sit. You will tell me what brought you to D’Angelos today. Then I will decide on your future employment. That will be your résumé.”
Sunny sat. The other woman sat, as well, and held out her hand. “I am Benedictine D’Angelo. Everyone calls me Mama Bennie.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mrs. D’Angelo.”
The woman tsked and shook her head. “Are you not an everyone?”
“I’d be honored to be an everyone. I’d love to call you Mama Bennie if you’d let me. You can call me Sunny.”
The woman nodded, her smile a gleaming one. “You have a smile as bright as your name. And I like your style.”
Sunny grinned. “The feeling is mutual.”
Bennie looked her over. “You are wearing clothing worth more than you will likely earn here in months. You speak in cultured tones that tell me you have diplomas from schools other than Jean Marc’s.” She leaned forward, all but pinning Sunny to her seat with her dark eyes. “So, why don’t you get to the meat of it?”
Sunny smiled, thankful for Bennie’s straightforward style. She told her the whole story.
Mama Bennie was frowning. “Seems your grandfather feels respect goes only one way. D’Angelos doesn’t operate like that. We’re a very close family, but love means you allow those you love to find their own happiness. Fortunately, many D’Angelos have found their happiness here. We’re a third-generation restaurant. Almost all run by D’Angelos.”
“Why the sign then?”
“My youngest grandson, Joey, is off to graduate school this fall. He’s a computer programmer. Designs those crazy computer games all the kids are playing.” She shrugged as if to say it was beyond her, but her smile returned quickly. “He’s smart, our Joey. Full scholarship. But he got a summer job on campus with one of his professors, so he’s leaving a bit earlier than we’d expected. I don’t have anyone else in place at the moment, so the sign went up.”
Sunny felt like providence was shining down on her. “So, the job is a temporary one? Until you find a family member?”
“It doesn’t have to be.” She eyed Sunny meaningfully.
It was a perfect setup. They could fill each other’s needs until it didn’t suit them any longer. When the time came, she’d go back to Chandlers, and another D’Angelo would fill her position. “I think I came to the right place.”
“I think so, too. But I must be honest with you, Sunny. I am old-fashioned enough to wish you were a good Italian girl. But I’m also old enough to enjoy upsetting the applecart from time to time.” She winked, then got down to business. “I’m going to have to insist on a one-month probationary period. Just to make sure you can live up to that fancy gourmet diploma you earned.”
Sunny blushed, feeling foolish for her earlier airs. “I won’t let you down, Mama Bennie.”
“I believe you’ll try, and that’s the best I can hope for. Now, there is one more thing before we fill out the paperwork. A minor bit of business, really.”
She had the job! Sunny was so relieved, nothing else mattered at this point. “I’m sure whatever it is, I—”
“Not whatever, whoever.” Mama Bennie pushed her chair back and stood. “Follow me.”
Sunny followed the older woman toward the back of the restaurant. They passed the double doors leading to the kitchen. There was a sudden burst of violent Italian, followed by the clash and clang of several pots and pans, followed once more with voices raised in a heated argument.
She paused a moment before Mama Bennie took her arm and continued down the hallway.
“Come, come. Don’t mind Carlo. He’s a hothead, but a pussycat on the inside. Really.”
Sunny wasn’t so sure about that. Another crash made her wince and look over her shoulder in the direction of the swinging doors. Just what had she gotten herself into?
She barely had time to finish that thought when Mama Bennie knocked once on a large wooden door then pushed it open without waiting for a response.
“Niccolo, I have our new kitchen help here. I wish her to begin immediately. I just need the papers.” Before Sunny could gather her wits, Mama Bennie thrust her in front of her ample bosom.
The man she faced could only be called imposing. And that was only partly due to his height. They were in a stockroom, and he’d been surveying the contents stacked on the crowded shelving units, a clipboard in his hand. Now he was staring at her. Unlike Mama Bennie, he didn’t welcome her with a warm smile. Not even close.
He wore black pants and a white button-down shirt with the collar undone. The sleeves were rolled up haphazardly over healthy-size forearms. She could see his white undershirt through the cotton. It was the old-fashioned tank style. She didn’t think they made those anymore. Something about the way it defined his chest and shoulders caught her attention. She jerked her gaze to his face, only to feel another little shock of awareness.
His eyes were a bottomless brown with thick lashes that should have been illegal on a man. And his hair all but begged a woman to sink her fingers into it. It was thick and dark and a bit wild, as if he’d just recently left the steam-soaked kitchen. She could easily imagine him all hot and passionate, shouting in Italian. That thought had her looking at his mouth. Big mistake. It was full, generous, even compressed in a hard line as it was now. Suddenly all thoughts of steamy rooms and heated emotions had her normally well-ordered mind racing in directions it never had before. It was like he’d found her hormonal On button and flipped it. Hard.
Then he shifted his focus away from her, and the switch flipped abruptly to Off.
“We’re not hiring anyone who looks like her to work in my kitchen.”
Mama Bennie snapped out something in Italian, which Sunny only partly caught, but the smoldering man before her curbed his tongue. His expression, however, remained heated. She didn’t think it was about hormones, though. Just as well. Sexist jerk. Probably the head chef or something. They were all temperamental. She’d figured that out at fourteen. So what if he was the embodiment of every red-blooded woman’s Italian stud fantasies?
Just because she looked like the stereotypical blue-eyed blond WASP she was didn’t mean she couldn’t make her way here in this swarthy, testosterone-laden little world of his. She’d won over Jean Marc, who could give lessons to this guy in testosterone spewing. She’d even won over Mama Bennie. She’d win over this guy, too. After all, winning was what Chandlers did best. She wondered briefly how her grandfather would react when she told him she owed her new job to his formative training.
So there she was, all primed and ready to do battle for blond, blue-eyed princesses everywhere, when Mama Bennie promptly took the wind out of her sails.
“Sunny Chandler, this narrow-minded young man is my grandson Nick D’Angelo. Despite his more obvious flaws, he’s good at what he does. He’s the third-generation D’Angelo to run this whole operation.” She beamed at them both. “He’s your new boss.”
2
“WOULD YOU MIND waiting out in the hall?” Nick didn’t give the young woman a chance to say no. He took her arm and steered her toward the door.
He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised when she yanked her arm free, resisting his assistance. When Mama Bennie stuck her nose in the family business, trouble always seemed to follow.
“Thank you,” she said in that oh-so-polite tone. “But I really think, if we’re going to be working together, that we reach an understanding right off.”
Nick scowled at Bennie’s approving smile.
“I’ll leave you two to work out the details,” she said, slipping out before Nick could stop her. She was seventy-six and shaped like a ravioli, but she could move with amazing speed when necessary.
Nick forced his fingers to relax on the clipboard and turned once again to face his latest entrant in the Marry Off Niccolo Sweepstakes. Mama Bennie must be getting desperate. This one wasn’t even Italian.
“I’m sorry, but you’ve wasted your time.”
Ms. Chandler planted her hands on her slender hips. “Do you, or do you not, wish to hire kitchen help?”
Nick sighed heavily. “I do. But I also do the hiring. And the firing,” he added with a pointed look. “Mama Bennie means well, but I’ll be frank with you. She only gave you the job because you’re young and beautiful.”
“Really,” she said, polished smile intact. “I promise you, I didn’t come in here expecting to get this job based on my good looks.”
Nick folded his arms, clipboard and all. “Oh? And just what qualifications do you have? We only seat seventy-five, but we offer a full menu. I need someone with experience working a kitchen under those kinds of demands. Do you have experience with Italian cuisine? Southern? Northern?”
His barrage of questions had been designed to make her understand in no uncertain terms exactly why he wasn’t hiring her.
She looked deflated and defeated. He tried to ignore the twinge of guilt he felt. So what if he was a soft touch for the occasional sob story? He still wasn’t hiring her. He supposed he could let her down easy, though. He blew out a long sigh and tried on his kinder, gentler voice.
“Listen, I have two weddings and a communion to cater in the next ten days, along with an annual street festival to prepare for. If I don’t get this order called in by three this afternoon, I’m going to have an angry mother of the bride on my hands, as well. I simply don’t have time to train anyone right now. I’m sure you’ll find something somewhere else. There are plenty of people hiring these days.”
He thought he’d done pretty well under the circumstances, but one look at her told him she didn’t appreciate his kind and gentle routine. So much for the easy letdown.
Somewhere between the angry mother-in-law and the no-time-to-train-you part, her chin had come up, showing off the rope of matched pearls adorning her neck, and her slender shoulders had squared beneath the designer blouse she wore. He should have gone with his original instinct and hauled her out bodily. But she was talking, and he found himself listening. Her teeth were white and straight, her lips exactly the right width and curved just so. He should have been turned completely off, as perfection rarely called to him.
He was drawn more toward the slightly offbeat, the woman with that one crooked tooth or a smile that was a bit too wide, eyebrows a bit uneven. A woman with a bit of the Windy City or the old country in her voice. With hips a bit too wide, breasts on the luxurious side and hair…lots of hair. Thick, wavy hair made to sink his fingers into. That was the kind of woman who got his attention without even trying.
Not this cool, blond, slim drink of imported water with a twist of lemon, please.
And yet, he was all but hanging on her every word.
“Actually,” she said, with just the right amount of defensive posturing, “my experience is more Continental. French cuisine. Mama Bennie agreed to give me a one-month probationary period. Surely you can give me that much of a trial. If I don’t pull my weight, you can give me the ax. Fair?”
No, he thought, it wasn’t fair. He didn’t have time for this. And he certainly didn’t have time to figure out what it was about her that got his complete attention. He had zero time for that. Less than zero. So why in the world he opened his mouth and said, “One month. I want that in writing, so when I fire you, you won’t bring in some fancy suit and sue me,” he had no idea.
She smiled with satisfaction, which irked him all the more. She might not have wanted to trade on her good looks, but Nick could think of no reason other than his unreliable hormones for what he’d just gone and done. She stuck out her hand, and he actually had to think about the consequences of touching her.
He almost laughed. Damn if she hadn’t reduced him to the level of a gawky teenager, sweating out his first kiss. Only he’d never been gawky, as a teenager or any other time. He’d always been a natural with women. At twenty-eight, he could certainly handle this one.
He took her hand and pumped it once, then let it drop. Warm. He hadn’t expected that. He’d expected cool, finely boned, impersonal. He’d gotten two out of three right, but that one wrong had been critical.
Warm, huh? He found himself glancing into those blue eyes. Ice princess? Or blond temptress?
He shook the thoughts from his head. She was an employee now, he reminded himself. He did have some boundaries, and that was one of them. No dating the boss.
“So, where do I begin?” She asked expectantly.
He cleared his throat. “There is some paperwork to fill out. Don’t you want to discuss salary?”
It was her turn to look momentarily nonplussed. “Oh, uh, right. I suppose so, yes. I guess I assumed I’d just start out at the standard rate for new employees.” She forced a smile to cover what they both knew was a lame attempt to sound like an everyday new hire.
Which he knew she was not.
“So, you don’t care about the money? Why do you need this job? Really.”
“I always care about the money,” she corrected. “It’s bred into the Chandler DNA.”
“Chandler?” He recalled Bennie’s introduction. Sunny Chandler. Understanding dawned. “As in Chandler Enterprises?”
“I’m related, yes. You’re not going to fire me now, are you?”
“Why should I give this job to you instead of someone who really does need employment?”
“There are plenty of jobs out there. No one will go jobless because you hired me. So why not? I’m available.”
“And why is that?”
Her smile slipped a little, but she caught it on her chin, which lifted just enough to save it. “I’d rather not go into the details.”
“You told Bennie.”
She opened her mouth, as if to deny it, but shut it and nodded. “You can ask her if you want. I didn’t swear her to secrecy.”
Nick swore under his breath. If Bennie considered Sunny one of her worthy causes, he’d have a hell of a time getting rid of her. “And she thinks I’m a soft touch,” he muttered.
“I hardly think of you as a soft touch.”
“I hired you, didn’t I?” he retorted, briefly enjoying a look of surprise, then dismay, on her face. He’d bet his last dollar she was not remotely used to being a pity case.
“I agreed to a short trial period after which I can be fired, no questions asked. Isn’t that enough?”
He was dying to know what was really going on here, and damned if he’d go running to Bennie to find out. One way or the other, he’d get her to spill the real reason she’d invaded his life. Right before he fired her and got back to business. “Rather argumentative for someone who wants a job here so badly.”
He could see her grit her teeth, but she remained outwardly calm. “I’m simply being logical.”
“Logically I should hire someone with experience.”
“In one month, if I don’t fit the bill, you can.”
“You’re a tough negotiator. Is that also in the Chandler DNA?”
“You bet.” She rubbed her palms gently on her pants. Nervous? He wouldn’t have thought it of her. “Where are the papers for me to sign?”
“Anxious?”
She grinned at him. “I only have one month to impress the boss. I don’t plan on wasting any time.”
Despite the chaos this escapade of hers was likely to create, his responding smile was remarkably natural and relaxed. He’d just realized she hadn’t met her co-workers yet. This might be the shortest trial period on record.
“I’ll get to them after I finish my order. Bennie will take you to the kitchen and introduce you to the head chef. For all intents and purposes, he will be your immediate boss.” His smile spread at her look of alarm. She’d begged for this job. He wasn’t going to apologize for the working conditions. “Just consider me the CEO.”
“The head chef…that wouldn’t be—”
“Carlo.” He nodded. “I see you’ve already met.”
“Not exactly.”
Nick shouldn’t be enjoying this so much. Really. But she was so damned cool and competent. Competent—at least in her world—he had no doubt. He remembered her warm palm brushing his. The cool part was still in question.
He reminded himself that if she walked out today, he wouldn’t go in search of the answer. She was from another world, another stratosphere, really. It wasn’t that he thought her better than himself, but there were some cultural bridges too exhausting to span just for the fun of it. He’d give this one a pass.
“I’m not sure where Bennie is at the moment,” he said. “So why don’t I introduce you to Carlo myself.”
“You just want to watch the fireworks,” she muttered.
“What was that?”
She smiled brightly at him, her eyes telling him she knew he’d heard her. “I said I can’t wait to see how all this works.” She waved a hand. “Lead on.”
He opened the door and waved a hand of his own. “Ladies first.”
“Don’t you mean lions?” she asked dryly.
Nick laughed at that. “The lions generally won against the gladiators.”
“Not the ones armed with sharp blades, they didn’t.”
Damn if he didn’t admire her sense of humor. He didn’t give her a chance in hell of making it to the end of the day, but something had driven her to this. That softened him a bit. After all, it was only one day. “Carlo isn’t as bad as all that. His bark is worse than his bite.”
“But he does bite,” she countered. “I thought so.” Then, with a toss of her blond lioness mane, she walked into the hall. “As long as he realizes I bite back, we’ll get along just fine.”
Behind her, Nick’s smile faded a bit. Maybe that’s exactly what he should be afraid of.
3
ELEVEN HOURS LATER, Sunny collapsed into a chair outside the kitchen doors. She rested her elbows onto a table and dropped her head into her hands. “I’d rather oversee a hostile takeover than do this again.” A glass of ice water appeared in front of her. She swallowed most of it in one gulp, eyes closed in abject appreciation. She pulled off her hairnet and pushed at the straggling strands stuck to her forehead, then gazed at her savior, relieved to find it was Mama Bennie.
Nick had hovered all night. Inevitably, she’d glance up from whatever merciless task Carlo had dictated she perform, only to find him watching her. Probably hoping she’d do something really stupid so he could fire her on the spot. But something about the way he watched her made her insides twitch. Sort of like when the skin between her shoulder blades itched and she couldn’t reach the spot to scratch it.
“You did well in there tonight,” the older woman said with a proud nod.
Sunny winced as she toed out of her borrowed sneakers. “I survived,” she corrected. “I think. I’m still not certain how I managed it.”
Mama Bennie took a seat across from her and folded her arms on the table. “You managed fine.”
Sunny didn’t want to think about the past eleven hours. Since the moment Nick had introduced her to Carlo and his staff, she felt she’d been treading water in a whirlpool. Barely.
Mama Bennie patted her hand. “You’ll do even better tomorrow.”
Sunny took pride in the fact that she didn’t fling herself on the floor screaming right then and there. Another night like this one and she’d crawl home over glass to her grandparents.
Nick appeared from the back and drew out the chair at the table next to theirs. He straddled it and smiled at Sunny. The smugness in that smile made her grit her teeth, but she knew she looked like over-boiled pasta at the moment, so there was little she could say in her own defense. In his place, she’d probably be a bit smug, too.
“Good thing we were quiet tonight,” Nick said smoothly. “Gave you a chance to break into the routine slowly.”
Slowly! That was slowly? She downed the rest of her water.
“She did a good job, Niccolo,” Mama Bennie said. “She’s a sharp one. She’ll learn quickly, you’ll see.” At a shout from the back, Mama Bennie excused herself and left them alone. Together.
Sunny felt that itch again as he stared at her. She figured her night was about to get worse. How that was possible was beyond her.
The argument with her grandfather seemed like two lifetimes ago. She’d started working this afternoon bent on proving her grandfather wrong. But after Nick’s fifth or sixth visit to the kitchen, she realized she was also doing it to prove Nick wrong. His opinion of her ability to function outside her rarefied world wasn’t much higher than Edwin’s.
Well, her stubbornness had gotten her through one endless shift. But at that moment, she was pretty sure she’d rather eat crow in front of Nick, Edwin and the entire Chandler Enterprises board of directors than attempt to survive another shift. She opened her mouth, prepared to give him the words he wanted to hear and deal with his humiliating I told you so, but he spoke first.
“I talked to Carlo before he left. He isn’t happy with me for hiring you at the moment.”
She looked at him. “I did everything he asked me to do.”
“His main concern is speed. When this place is full, we’re going to need someone who can do what is expected, do it well and not take all night to get it done.”
A slow burn started, making her stomach jumpy and her nerves even more ragged. “I wasn’t going slow to make anyone angry. I was doing my job to the best of my abilities.”
“Well, Carlo says he appreciates that you are a perfectionist. He understands pride in a job well done. However, washing vegetables isn’t an art form. If you want to continue here, your speed will have to improve.”
Sunny opened her mouth to tell him what he could do with his vegetables, clean or otherwise, but to her surprise, what came out was, “What time do I start tomorrow?”
She took a measure of pleasure in the obvious surprise that lit his dark eyes. Good, she thought. “I didn’t graduate in the top ten in my class by giving up when the going got tough,” she said, enjoying his sudden consternation. It was likely the only reward she would get for her hard hours of labor, so she decided to enjoy it as fully as possible. “If you think that Carlo’s bullying tactics will make me run home to Granddaddy, think again.”
Dear God, what was she saying? She was going to do this? Again?
She looked at the frown pulling at the corners of his oh-so-incredible mouth. The same mouth that had been smiling smugly at her moments before. Yeah, she thought, that was exactly what she was doing. She made a mental note to get up in time to find some comfortable shoes, extra padded bandages for the blisters on her heels and something to securely pin up her hair.
“Your shift starts at four,” he said tightly.
“I’ll be here at three.” At his raised eyebrow, she added, “I will use my own time to familiarize myself better with what is expected of me.”
“I have no time to train you. You’ll have to ask—”
“I’ve already talked to Romano. He’s going to come in early and help me.”
“I’ll just bet he is,” Nick muttered darkly. He shoved his chair forward and stood. “I still have paperwork to do. Use the rear employee door to come and go from now on.”
She resisted the impulse to salute him. “Yes, sir.” He turned away, but stopped when she added, “Thank you.”
He turned to face her. “For what?”
“Giving me a chance,” she said sincerely. “I know you don’t understand why this is important to me, but I promise I won’t make you any sorrier than you already are for letting Mama Bennie talk you into this.”
His stiff posture relaxed a fraction. “It won’t be the last time I do something foolish because she wants me to.”
“I’ll make Mama Bennie proud.” And you, she thought, then rapidly backtracked. What he thought of her wasn’t important. “You’re lucky to have a grandmother who loves you so much.”
He looked at her. “You say that as if you don’t have the same. Your grandmother would be…” He paused, then said, “Frances. Frances Chandler.” He laughed. “Don’t look so startled. I may not have the fancy degree, but I do read the papers.”
Sunny wished she hadn’t guided the conversation in such a personal direction. She smoothed another loose strand of hair and sat up straighter. Her lower back screamed in protest. She ignored it. Chandlers never let the opposition see their weaknesses. “My grandparents love me very much. It’s just…well, they show it in a different way than yours.”
She stood as a discouragement to further conversation, then swallowed a groan when the arches of her feet relaxed against the wood floor. No way was she going to be able to get into the heels she’d been wearing. Maybe ever. She’d have to fake it across the back alley to her—
Car. She had no car. And at one in the morning, getting a cab in this neighborhood wasn’t going to be easy. “Can I use the office phone? It’s a local call.”
He didn’t say anything for a moment, then relented, sweeping his arm in front of him. “After you.”
It took all her waning willpower to walk down the hall in front of him without limping. “I’ll get my things from my locker.”
“I’d rather you make your call first, so I can get back to work.”
She nodded, too busy trying to figure out where she was going to sleep tonight to argue. One thing she couldn’t argue was that, for all Nick demanded a lot of his employees, he appeared to work just as hard, if not harder.
He opened the door and ushered her in, flipping on the light as he passed her. She looked around Nick’s cramped office. An antique oak desk piled high with papers, books and file folders dominated the room. The walls were covered with pictures of Nick with family and friends as well as with some local and national celebrities. There were also a couple pictures of an older man who could have been his father or his grandfather.
“Salvatore D’Angelo,” he said, apparently catching her interest. “My grandfather. Bennie’s husband. He came over from Italy when he was only twenty. Started this restaurant before he turned thirty. He passed away five years ago.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I bet he and Bennie made a great team.”
Nick came to stand just behind her. He was silent, which was good, since somehow there was less air in the room than moments before.
She was about to move away when he spoke. “Papa Sal understood people. He knew everyone in this neighborhood by name. He knew when someone was going through a tough time, and he knew before anyone else when a wedding was going to take place. Everyone sought him out for advice. He never turned anyone away. He treated the well known like they were from the neighborhood and the neighborhood people like they were stars. We all miss him terribly.”
His softly spoken words made her eyes burn. “Being that well-loved is a wonderful reward for a life well lived,” she said. “I’m sure he’ll live a long time in the hearts of those who knew him.”
“He’d have probably liked you.” She stilled when Nick’s hand landed on her shoulder. Just as quickly, he dropped it. “He was a good one for bucking traditions. He liked to make people reexamine their preconceptions.”
Feeling oddly exposed, she slid from between him and the wall and faced him. “It must be hard,” she said, “feeling like you have to fill his shoes.” She realized then that they had something in common. The burden of following in their family’s footsteps.
“It’s a challenge, but one I won’t ever walk away from. My parents died when we were kids. Sal and Bennie raised all of us, but as the oldest, I knew I would run D’Angelo’s. Sal saw to it that I was as ready as I could be before he left us.” He eyed her deliberately, and she figured Mama Bennie had told him her story.
Well, fine. She was too tired to argue. Let him think what he wanted about her. He didn’t look away, and neither, she discovered, could she. Despite her fatigue and the distraction of her other problems, she felt energy fairly radiating from him. It made her thinly stretched nerves fray a little bit more. There was no denying the man had sex appeal in spades. And then there was his voice. When he talked passionately, as he had moments ago, all sorts of inappropriate things she’d like to hear him say in that same intimate voice sprung to her mind. On top of everything else, sexual tension had no place in her life.
She broke eye contact and turned toward the desk, intent on finding the phone. She caught sight of herself in a small antique mirror tucked in among the pictures and almost laughed. She looked like a raccoon that had run a marathon. And come in last. Mascara ringed her eyes, her hair was damp and stringy, and her skin was pasty. Except for two pink spots on her cheek and a red nose. From the steam, most likely.
Oh, yeah, sexual tension was going to be a big problem. Not. And he thought she got by on her good looks. Ha!
“I guess I should make that call,” she said. It was definitely time to get out of here and go home. Wherever home was going to be tonight. She wasn’t going to Haddon Hall. A fancy suite at the Drake wasn’t right, either. She’d spent the day as a working girl. She should sleep like one, too. But that left her where?
“Here.”
She jumped at the sound of his voice just behind her. She turned to find him holding the phone. “Thank you.”
“I’ll leave you to your call.”
The heat dropped twenty degrees the instant he shut the door behind him. At least it felt that way. She rested limply against his desk, staring at the phone but thinking about her new boss. There was no denying that he intrigued her. Tough enough to run a successful restaurant, soft enough to let his grandmother walk all over him.
The phone began to beep at her, and she jerked her thoughts to the problem at hand. She pressed the reset button and dialed information. After calling for a cab, she ran down a mental list of possibilities. They were dismally few and generally revolved around her platinum card. The friends she’d made at school were not close. Even if she felt comfortable enough to confide in any of them, which she didn’t, there wasn’t one of them she’d call at this hour of the morning.
A door banged in the hallway. Seconds later a taller, skinnier and somewhat younger version of Nick D’Angelo filled the doorway. He wore ratty black jeans that molded indecently to his long legs, an almost equally ratty T-shirt and a leather jacket.
“Now this is a nice if unexpected surprise,” he said. “I was beginning to think old Niccolo was going monkish on me. So, who are you and why is my brother keeping you trapped in his office? I could rescue you, if you like.” He extended his hand. “Joey D’Angelo, knight in black leather.” His grin was infectious.
Suddenly Sunny didn’t feel quite so exhausted. What was it about D’Angelo men, anyway? She laughed. “I’m afraid my steed is already on its way. But thanks for the kind offer.” She shook his hand.
He held on to her and bowed deeply. “Anytime, fair maiden.” After pressing a warm kiss on the back of her hand, he released her and straightened. “And your name? My big brother doesn’t ever get around to introducing most of his dates to the family. He has some strange idea that we scare the ladies off. Go figure.”
“I’m not so certain he’s afraid you’ll scare them off so much as spirit them away.”
His eyes widened in surprise. “A live one. Nice change, brother.” He laughed. It was as engaging as his grin. It made Sunny wonder what Nick would be like if he loosened up a bit. But then, Joey didn’t have the demands on him that Nick did.
“I like you…what did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t. It’s Sunny.”
“Now there’s a woman with intuitive parents. My folks? Joseph.” He snorted. “Are you kiddin’ me?” He shook his head. His dark hair was so short it didn’t move. Another contrast with his brother. Interesting. She’d have figured Nick for the controlled short hair and Joey for the wilder, messier look. Hmm. But more intrigue she didn’t need. She was not about to get involved with the D’Angelo brothers.
“I think Joseph is a fine name,” she said. “Very strong.”
“Biblical. Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it all.”
She laughed. “Somehow I don’t think you’ve let it slow you down all that much.”
He shot her a mock sly grin. “I see my reputation precedes me.” He moved closer. “So, exactly why are you in Nick’s office?”
“I’m a new employee here and I was just making arrangements for a ride.”
“Get out! Nick hired you?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Yes, he did. Why do you ask?”
“I like it when you get all ice princessy on me. Very nice. I bet that makes Nick nuts.”
“I don’t think much fazes your brother. And he hired me because you’re leaving early for school.”
He looked honestly chagrined by the reminder. “I know. But Mama Bennie and Nick understood. I just figured they’d find someone without having to advertise.” He studied her a second. “Unless one of my cousins got married without me knowing, or you’re Italian on your mother’s side about six times removed.”
She laughed again. “Nope. No Italian in my history.”
Joey’s grin returned. “Well, then, I guess my brother finally came to his senses.”
“Actually, it was Mama Bennie who—”
Nick came into the office. “Sunny, your cab is—Hey, Joey.” He caught his brother in an affectionate bear hug. “I thought you were already headed east.”
“I was. But then Steve backed out on me.” He turned to Sunny. “What a pal, huh? I mean, he agrees to sublet my apartment, then backs out on me when his girlfriend invites him to move in. I ask you, is that fair?”
“Perhaps she made a more tantalizing offer,” Sunny teased. Then the light bulb went off in her head. “Hey, maybe I can help you out.”
Nick stepped between them. “No.” Gone was the easy affection he’d exuded moments ago.
“What do you mean, no?” Joey moved his brother behind him and pasted on a wide smile. “This is between me and the lady.” He looked over his shoulder. “Unless perhaps you were planning on her stayin’ at your place?”
“No!” When Sunny and Joey’s eyes widened at his sudden vehemence, Nick frowned and tried again. “I mean, where she stays is none of my concern, as long as she reports to work on time.”
Joey turned to Sunny. “Perfect. Because it will be hard for her to be late if she’s sleeping right upstairs.” He held out his hand. “Come on, I’ll show you the place and we can talk terms.”
Sunny blinked. “Upstairs? You live over the restaurant?”
“You bet. It’s a great place. I even cleaned it up for Steve. The bum. Although I’m thinkin’ now maybe I owe Steve, you know?” He hustled her from the office. Over his shoulder, he said, “Cancel the cab, Nick. She won’t be needing it.”
Nick responded by grabbing Joey’s arm and dragging them both back to the doorway. “Hold on just a minute. She’s only here short-term. I’ll find someone to rent your place. Just leave me a spare set of keys.”
“Excuse me,” Sunny said, extracting her arm from Joey’s grip and moving between the two brothers. “I believe this is between Joseph and myself. Even if I don’t remain under your employ, I will need a place to stay.”
Joey chuckled. “Don’t you just love it when she talks like that?”
Nick scowled. “Don’t do this, Joey.”
Joey was totally unaffected by his brother’s demand. He shrugged. “Hey, you’re the one who hired her.”
Nick turned to Sunny. “Surely a Chandler can do better than renting a one-bedroom walk-up in this part of town.”
Joey started to say something, but Sunny cut him off. “This Chandler will reside wherever she sees fit. And right at this moment, I think Joey’s place sounds great. So, if you’ll excuse us?”
Nick swore under his breath. “I knew this was going to be a huge mistake.”
Joey punched his brother on the arm. “Lighten up, will ya? If she lasted a day with both you and Carlo on her case, she’s already outlasted the first six women you hired for the kitchen. And they were your cousins.”
Suddenly feeling better than she had all day, Sunny tossed Nick a victorious smile and allowed Joey to lead her to the back stairs.
4
SUNNY PRIED OPEN one eyelid, peered at the clock and groaned. It couldn’t be time already. Surely she’d just fallen into bed minutes ago. Then she remembered. It was her day off. Her first in a week. She didn’t have to rush out and run her errands before work. She had all afternoon. She might even put her errands off until evening. The idea of being off her feet for an entire day held an almost orgasmic appeal. She smiled sleepily and snuggled deeper beneath the covers.
Then shot dead upright when she heard a door banging open and people talking. Inside her apartment. Before she could wet her throat enough to call out, the invaders found her.
“Up and at ’em, sleepyhead. We need you. Father Sartori needs you. And you know the good father preaches patience better than he practices it.” A tall, striking brunette stopped short in the doorway. “Well, surprise, surprise.”
Sunny clutched the bedspread to her chest and pushed her hair from her face. “Um, who are you?” Had she been a little more awake, she’d have noticed the resemblance. But when the shorter, plumper woman pushed past the taller one, she knew without a doubt who had come calling. “Nick’s sisters?”
That stopped the shorter one, who glanced at her taller sister with a speculative look in her eyes. “She said Nick, not Joey.” They both turned their smiles to Sunny, who immediately understood what was going through their minds.
She shook her head. “No, no, you have it all wrong. I work for Nick. I’m the new kitchen help. Joey sublet me his apartment when his friend backed out. He’s with Mama Bennie until Sunday, then he’s going to school.”
The taller one nodded approvingly. “Smart, concise and rational.” She and her sister shared a laugh. “Definitely not Nick or Joey’s type.” She stepped forward and held out her hand. “Sorry to intrude on you like this, but since we have, I’m Marina.” She shook Sunny’s hand. “And this is my younger sister Andrea. And I might as well warn you, there are two more of us about to show up. Rachel and B.J., the younger ones, that is, except for Joey. He’s the baby.”
“In more ways than one,” Andrea added, looking at the various posters on the walls. “I don’t suppose he’ll let you redecorate while you’re here, will he?”
Sunny smiled. “With all that wonderful food I’m around all day, I figure staring at Heather Locklear and Elle MacPherson every night is a good thing. Keeps me on the straight and narrow.”
“Definitely not Joey’s type,” Andrea agreed. “Well, we’ll get ourselves out of your bedroom now. We’re all used to tramping in and out of each other’s houses, but had we known—”
“We’d have at least knocked first,” Marina finished with a smile. “And then barged in anyway.” She wasn’t in any apparent hurry to leave, however. “So, when did you start? Usually the D’Angelo grapevine works better than this, but with school just letting out and Cecelia’s new baby finally home from the hospital and B.J. announcing she’s expecting her second and third one early next year, it’s been, well—”
“Normal,” Andrea finished with a laugh.
Sunny felt like she was at a tennis match, her head was going back and forth so often. She wondered if they always completed each other’s sentences. She couldn’t imagine what it was like to grow up with so many siblings. Or any siblings, for that matter. Not for the first time, she felt a little pang of envy. “It must be wonderful to have that kind of support network.” She didn’t realize she’d spoken out loud until Marina answered.
“Yes, it is,” she said without hesitation. “Of course, we never had the bathroom to ourselves, Nick and Papa Sal scared off most of our potential dates—it’s a wonder any of us got married—and we had to live with Mama Bennie terrifying the teachers at conference time.” Her smile softened. “But there was always someone to help you with your homework, and splitting the chores was a bit easier.” She studied Sunny with renewed interest. “I take it you didn’t have those problems.”
Sunny shook her head. “Well, I probably had an even harder time dating. Papa Sal and Nick combined would pale in comparison to my grandfather. But the housekeepers did the chores and my nanny helped me with my homework. And I had plenty of bathroom space.” Her very own bathroom, in fact.
“Housekeepers and nannies?” Andrea sighed and sank into a chair. “Can I move in with your family? And bring my three kids with me?”
Marina sat on the end of the bed, making herself right at home. “With all that, why are you here? Since we’re bonding and all,” she added with a grin.
She really was gorgeous, Sunny thought. And Andrea was bright and pretty, as well. Both had thick, dark hair, shining brown eyes and beautiful skin. The D’Angelo genes were made of powerful stuff. All pale and blond, she should have felt lifeless next to such vibrancy. But somehow she didn’t. There was no phoniness and no pretense with these two. She liked that. She liked that a lot.
“Actually, living here isn’t that much different from my room at the sorority. Except we had different posters. I’ve adjusted pretty easily, and there’s only one person to clean up after.”
Marina and Andrea exchanged a look, then laughed. “We wouldn’t know much about that, either. The sorority or only cleaning up after one person.”
Sunny shrugged, but laughed with them. It had been a good week, better than she’d expected. She was dog tired, but it was a good tired. And she was already in love with the neighborhood. That part was very different from school or home. And she’d discovered she really enjoyed being on her own. Was thriving on it. The people were nice, and everything she needed was within walking distance.
She admitted to wanting to call home once or twice, just to let her grandparents know she was fine, but they knew where she was. She knew that because she’d spied Carl cruising down the street every so often in the limo. Edwin keeping an eye on her, no doubt. Well, that had worked to her advantage, too. She’d flagged Carl down the second time she’d seen him—thankful Edwin hadn’t been in the back seat—and coerced him into getting one of the housekeepers to throw some of her things in a bag, then sneak it to her.
Other than that, she’d had no contact with her family. But then, she hadn’t expected to. Neither Edwin nor Frances would give in. She was certain they were waiting for her to come crawling home so they could pass judgment on her immature decision. Well, they had a long wait coming.
“So, Nick hired you for the kitchen?” Andrea asked.
Marina shushed her sister, then turned to Sunny. “How long has it been?”
“A week. This is my first day off.”
“Hey,” Marina said, surprised. “A new world record. And you don’t even speak Italian. Do you?”
Sunny smiled. “I’m learning. Quickly.”
“I think I’m glad we barged in today.” Andrea rubbed her hands. “We never can get enough information to use against our big brother. But this is too good. One week with both Nick and Carlo. You’re either Wonder Woman or really desperate.”
Sunny knew Andrea was fishing for information, but she realized she didn’t mind. She’d spent too much of her life mingling with pretentious bores—admittedly her fault as much as her grandparents’, as she’d suffered them in silence. She’d only just met Nick’s sisters, but she knew without a doubt they’d never suffer through anything silently. Maybe she was mingling with the right people. The right people for her.
Marina crossed her legs. “So why work here?”
“It’s a long story, but once I walked in the door and met Mama Bennie, I knew it was right.”
“And after five minutes with Carlo?”
She laughed. “I was ready to quit. But only after committing homicide.”
The sisters laughed and nodded in complete understanding, and Sunny knew she’d made two new friends. Friends of her own choosing. It was a ridiculously big moment for her, and she almost laughed at the absurdity of it.
“So why aren’t we planning the wake?” Andrea asked.
She explained about her grandfather. Then added, “And Nick didn’t think I could handle it, so I had that to prove, too.” She shrugged at Marina’s questioning lift of an eyebrow. “I am human.”
“And female,” Andrea said, her expression considering.
Sunny knew where Andrea was headed. “Yes, well, he’s not hard on the eyes, that’s for sure. But I’m not here to prove anything in that direction.” So what if she’d caught him staring at her a few times, and it made things heat up in a way that had nothing to do with Italian cooking? She was on a mission to get a life, not a lover.
“Well, I still say you deserve some kind of award,” Andrea said.
Sunny smiled. “A paycheck will suffice.”
Marina grinned. “I think you’re going to be a welcome addition. The women in this family have been providing all the entertainment for far too long now. It’ll be fun being the audience for a change. Especially if you can give my big brother a run for his money. Do him good to learn all women don’t swoon at the sight of his good looks.” She studied Sunny again. “And you say you haven’t swooned, right?”
Sunny blushed. She couldn’t believe she was sitting almost naked in her own bed, talking to her new boss’s sisters—women she’d just met—about her sex life. Or lack of one. “I definitely understand how he’d have a high swoon factor. But after this past week, I think we can safely say we see each other as points to be proven and nothing else.”
Marina stood. “Well, the least you deserve is some rest.” She stopped Sunny’s protestation. “We’ve all done time in Nick’s kitchen. Trust me, sleep when you can.”
Andrea stood, as well. “We only have a few hours of reprieve, anyway. Rachel and B.J.’s husbands are watching the brood while we help Father Sartori with all the festival plans. And even double teaming them, you’d think we were asking them to sacrifice a kidney or something.”
“I’m pretty sure John would be first in the donation line, given a choice,” Marina joked. To Sunny, she added, “John is B.J.’s husband. He’s a great guy, but with little Angelina being their only child and barely a toddler, he’s still a bit terrified of children running in packs.”
“Of course, with B.J. at the end of her second trimester and expecting twins, we saw it as our duty to help him get over his fears,” Andrea added. “After all, in this family, he must be assimilated into the pack mentality if he hopes to survive.”
Sunny felt a pang of commiseration for John. She was only dealing with the two sisters, and it was all she could do to keep up. “Twins?”
“The first in the D’Angelo family.”
“John is still adapting to the idea,” Andrea added.
“Like he has a choice.” Marina laughed. “Come on, we’d better get going. Leaving all the festival plans to the good father is never wise. Remember last time we left him in charge? He had Mrs. Amato running the ticket booth.”
Andrea groaned. “She only speaks Italian, can’t make change worth a hoot, is mostly deaf and sings all the time. Loudly. Off-key.” She shuddered. “It was a nightmare. You’re right, we better get over there.”
Curiosity got the best of Sunny. “What festival are you helping with?”
“It’s a summertime tradition in the neighborhood. Lots of music and games and dancing. And food. Enough to feed a small nation. Which is essentially what our neighborhood is, anyway,” she said with a laugh. “It’s three weeks away, but there’s a ton still to do. D’Angelo’s has been one of the caterers for this festival since it started over thirty years ago. The whole neighborhood pitches in with the decorations and such. Sometimes I think all the planning leading up to it is the true social occasion.”
“With all the gossip going on, it’s a wonder anything gets done.” Andrea laughed.
“It sounds like a lot of fun,” Sunny said. And it did. Her social calendar had never included something as fun-sounding as this event. Quite the opposite.
Marina shuttled her sister out the bedroom door, but Andrea ducked her head back in. With a speculative gleam in her eye, she said, “We never turn down an extra pair of hands. Just ask Nick for directions. We’ll be there until mid-afternoon at least. Or as long as the kids last after they get dropped off.”
Marina nodded. “Hey, if you lasted a week in Nick’s kitchen, this will be a breeze.”
“Or send you screaming back to wherever you came from,” Andrea added with a laugh. “Come if you dare.”
“I don’t think I’m running anywhere just yet. Let me shower and get dressed and I’ll be there. If it’s okay. I’m not really a resident.”
Marina’s eyebrows rose, and she really looked like her brother. “You pay rent, do you not? This is your mailing address, is it not? We’re like a village here, made up of decades of immigrants.” She shrugged. “What can I say? We are more open-minded than our ancestors, perhaps, but we still stick together. Show us what you’re made of. You’ll get a fair shake.”
Andrea agreed. “You won’t know unless you try.”
Marina smiled. “I’ll give you some advice. Good gossip is a great way to get in.”
“I don’t have any gossip.”
“You have the story about how a blond-haired rich girl got hired by Nick D’Angelo, to work in Carlo’s kitchen, no less. That will get you in the door. Trust me.” She winked. “After that, it’s all up to you.”
“That is, if you still want to try after stepping into this madness,” Andrea warned as they headed out.
“Welcome to the neighborhood, Sunny,” Marina called, then the front door slammed shut.
Sunny flopped back in bed. She’d just survived Hurricane D’Angelo. She didn’t feel sleepy. In fact, she felt invigorated. Enough to go stand on your feet on your day off? She thought of the two women she’d just met, their vivacity and the natural energy that emanated from them. She wanted to be a part of that.
She’d wanted a life of her own choosing. Never in her wildest imagination would she have chosen this one. But somehow it had chosen her. And she found she liked it.
“Grandfather, if you could only see your little CEO now.”
5
SUNNY STOPPED in front of the office door, hesitating before knocking. She’d been hoping Mama Bennie would be around so she wouldn’t have to bug Nick for directions to Father Sartori’s. No such luck. She knocked.
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