Kitabı oku: «Marriage Made In Monte Calanetti»

Have you heard?

There’s a new 8-book linked mini-series starting in

Mills & Boon Cherish this July, called

The Vineyards of Calanetti, featuring a stellar line-up of wonderful authors and even more fabulous storylines!

To help us celebrate, we hope you enjoy

this exclusive short story,

A Marriage Made in Monte Calanetti by Susan Meier

Step into this Tuscan world and prepare

to be swept off your feet!

CHAPTER ONE

Michele Patruno walked into the kitchen of Mancini’s, the new Tuscan restaurant in Monte Calanetti owned by his friend Chef Rafe Mancini. The scents of risotto, sweet sausage, succulent lamb hit him as he stepped into the ultra-modern, stainless steel kitchen.

At the sound of the door closing, Rafe spun from the prep table. His silver-gray eyes widened. His turned-down lips lifted into a rarely seen smile.

“Michele!”

He bounded over, enfolding Mic into an embrace that could only be described as the hug of a bear. Then he pushed him away. “What are you doing here?”

“You don’t think my favorite mentor could open a restaurant and I would stay away?”

Rafe studied him, those gray eyes always astute. “It took you long enough to come by.”

Michele deliberately avoided the unspoken question of why he never returned to his hometown. “I wanted to make sure you had at least one Michelin star before I tested the food.”

“One?” Rafe batted a hand. “Bah! You underestimate me. Everyone underestimates me.”

No one underestimated Chef Rafe. Aspiring chefs emulated him. Apprenticing chefs wanted to be him. Secretly in love with the tall, handsome chef, critics worked to find things wrong with his food, his restaurant, so they wouldn’t be accused of favoritism. Chef Rafe’s star was on the rise … as long as he could keep his temper in check.

“So you are here for food?”

“My aunt and uncle moved south. While I have a little time, I told them I’d stay in their condo until it sold.” He glanced around. “But that risotto does smell nice.”

“Nice! I will have you arrested for insulting me.”

Mic laughed. A feeling of normalcy, rightness, rippled through his blood and muscles. He loved teasing his friend. “Okay. It does smell amazing.”

Rafe dropped his arm to Mic’s shoulders. “It is good to see you, Mic.” He turned them to the door. “Now, we find you a table. And I will treat you to food so tempting, so brilliant, you will fall to your knees and thank your maker.”

Mic laughed again.

He followed Rafe to the dining room. It was exactly as Mic pictured it would be. Though Rafe had added a modern kitchen to the back of the old farm house he’d renovated, he’d kept the dining room true to the house’s origins. Antique tables covered in white linen cloths sat on earth-tone ceramic tile floors. The rustic shutters on the huge window in the back were open, revealing the resting countryside of Tuscany in January. The bar by the kitchen bustled with business as waitresses shouted wine orders.

“Are you the chef?”

Rafe stopped at the question from the customer. Behind him, Mic stopped too.

“Si.”

The customer smiled. “Your spaghetti sucks.”

Rafe scoffed. “My spaghetti is superb. If you disagree, your palate … how you say? … Sucks?”

Rafe’s response didn’t surprise Mic. Rafe was so good at what he did that he sometimes couldn’t relate to ordinary people. What shocked Mic was the laughter that quietly rippled through the dining room.

Rafe moved on as if unconcerned, marching Mic to a table in the back as he waved over a waitress. “Tonight’s dinner is on me. Give me twenty minutes and I will make you the happiest man on earth.”

Watching Rafe leave, he didn’t see the waitress who’d appeared at the side of the table and slid a menu in front of him. He opened it as he glanced up with a smile, then his breathing and—he was sure—his heart stopped.

“Liliana?”

Her waitress smile faded. Her brown eyes darkened. “Mic?”

He tried to think of something clever to say, but words failed him. After two years of teaching himself to forget her and another six years of believing he had. Here she was.

The question was: could he be polite? Or should he demand the answers he should have gotten eight years ago?

CHAPTER TWO

Liliana Norelli’s breath froze. Her body swayed. Was gorgeous Mic—the only man she’d ever loved—really here?

She blinked once to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. When her eyes opened again, Michele’s surprising blue eyes still stared up at her. His full lips formed a thin, intolerant line.

That quickly brought her to her senses. She cleared her throat. “I don’t think Chef Rafe wants you to order. I only brought the menu so you could see what he offers.” She turned to walk away but he caught her hand. “This is all you have to say to me?”

Oh, there were a million things she wanted to say. A million questions she wanted to ask. She’d given him up eight years ago so he could pursue his dream. She longed to know her sacrifice hadn’t been in vain.

But with his fingers sliding across her sensitive skin and every nerve ending in her body tingling with the memory of those clever hands on her, she said nothing. They’d been so crazy in love that her refusal of his marriage proposal had devastated him. But she’d known the cost of supporting two people in Paris would have been nearly impossible. Adding her ten-year-old sister would have tipped the scales from nearly impossible to totally impossible. He would have killed himself trying to afford an apartment large enough for three, and in the end he would have lost his dream apprenticeship. So she’d pretended he had only been a fling for her and he’d gone to Paris hating her for making a fool of him.

So … no. She could not ask him how he was. She could not hug him because she was so happy to see him. She could not anything.

She pulled her arm away.

Totally oblivious, Rafe returned with a seafood platter antipasto with calamari, mussels, smoked salmon, tuna fish and olives.

Mic grinned. His short dark hair was far different than the long curls he’d worn eight years ago. His body had filled out. His shoulders had become broad. His arms were muscled. Memories of her happy time with him raced through her brain, warming her blood and saddening her soul.

Taking advantage of Rafe’s presence, Lily sped away.

But as the night drew to a close with her chef spoiling the only man she’d ever loved, she grew more and more tired. It had taken her years to get over him, but one night in the same space with him and everything she’d worked to forget came tumbling back. Long nights in bed. Shared lattes because they were too poor to buy more than one. How he’d always left the last sip for her.

All she wanted to do was go home and weep.

Mic said goodnight to Rafe and looked over at her. Held in the gaze of those striking blue eyes, her golden memories returned, along with the sense that her real life hadn’t begun until the moment she’d given herself to him.

Shrugging into his leather jacket—a sign of how successful he’d been, proving she’d made the right choice in letting him go—he walked over.

“I think things need to be resolved between us.”

Refusing to let him see her pain, she broke through her own sadness to smile. “Things are fine between us.”

“Fine enough for us to work together?”

Her eyes widened. “You are working here?”

“Yes, Rafe and I decided that while I’m in town, it would be fun to work together again. With two master chefs, this place will shine. I start tomorrow.”

CHAPTER THREE

Lily held back a gasp. Working with Mic? Seeing him eight or ten hours a day for weeks? She’d never survive.

Still, if she gave him even the slightest inkling of how difficult it was to see him, he’d take advantage and push for answers about their breakup. Answers she wasn’t prepared to give and he wouldn’t be happy to hear.

“That’s fine. I’m fine with you being here. Why wouldn’t I be?”

He gave her a confused look that quickly turned into a look of condemnation, but he said nothing, only turned and walked away.

Lily deflated. The man hated her. How was she going to work with someone who hated her?

The next day, she prepared herself before she walked into Mancini’s. No matter what Mic said or did, she could not react. She had to get through these few weeks.

But after the first hour of ignoring her, Mic slowly came around. At first, it was a simple “you’re welcome” when she said “thank you”. Then he handed her orders across the stainless steel shelf. Soon they were working together normally.

She would have breathed a sigh of relief, except the next time she came into the kitchen she caught him staring at her.

A shiver ran up her spine. Not the shivers of fear, but the shivers of memory. That look he gave her was the same one he had every time she’d undressed for him.

The very thought made her breath catch, as memory after memory flooded her, and she knew she had to get away from him.

With the night ending and the crowd dwindling, she stood at the Maître D podium with Gino Scarpetti, the tall, stiff man who seated guests at Mancini’s.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready to close down for the night?” Gino asked, one eyebrow quirking.

“Si.”

“Why aren’t you?”

Before she could answer, Mic came out of the kitchen. He walked to the bar and reached for a bottle of wine—undoubtedly wine for him and Rafe to drink as they closed the kitchen. But when he turned from getting the wine, his eyes met hers.

Their gazes caught and held. He couldn’t hide the look of longing and she couldn’t seem to turn away. She’d pined for him for years, unable to move on, unable to forget the man she’d let go, even though she knew he probably hated her.

Mic blinked and turned to return to the kitchen.

Gino said, “You two knew each other before, didn’t you?”

Her heart thundering in her chest, Lily said, “We dated.”

“From the way he looks at you, I think our Mic might like to start things up again.”

Lily’s heart wanted to say, “Really?” But her head was too smart. Mic was a proud man and she’d hurt him. There was no way he’d want anything to do with her.

“I think if you strolled into that kitchen right now and asked him out, he’d be putty in your hands.”

Oh how she wished she could do that. But she’d had one shot with him and she’d given him up. Sacrificed their love for his success. There was no turning back now …

Was there?

CHAPTER FOUR

Three days later, with beautiful Lily with her long black hair, dark, dark eyes and lush figure only inches away from his itchy fingers every day, Mic wondered if fate wasn’t trying to drive him insane.

She cheerfully walked into the kitchen for a pickup. In the dark pants and white blouses required by Rafe, the other waitresses looked plain. But not Lily. Her curves made the simple garments a treat for the eyes, as her perpetual smile lit up the restaurant.

“Be careful with that butter.”

Mic shook his head and ripped his gaze away from Lily as she exited the kitchen. The butter in the frying pan spit and sputtered. He whipped the pan off the stove. Rafe frowned. “Your mind wanders.”

“A fluke.”

“I think it is more that you can’t keep your eyes off my waitress.”

Mic laughed. “You’re just worried about competition. Afraid your customers will miss me when I’m gone.” But even as he said the words, Lily returned. He took in the thick hair he had at one time run his fingers through and her breasts filling out the plain white blouse. Today she looked every bit as perfect as he remembered her to be.

“You are gone again.”

Mic almost cursed. The woman had spent an entire summer with him. She’d warmed his bed, but then she’d dumped him. Cruelly. How could he still find her enticing?

He shouldn’t.

He refused.

She came bouncing into the kitchen again, her ponytail bobbing.

He slid a warm plate to the stainless steel shelf between them. “Tortellini?”

The smile in her eyes caught him off guard. “Si. Grazie.” Taking the plate, she spun away and raced out of the kitchen.

Mic’s pulse scrambled and his heart kicked against his ribs. Her body might tempt him, but that smile brought back memories far more dangerous than the lure of her body. He’d helped her get beyond the loss of her parents. She’d been his biggest cheerleader. In his mind, their relationship had been as happy as their chemistry had been blistering hot.

But those wonderful memories might be the problem. Because he hadn’t had another serious relationship since the one he had with her, he kept remembering things as if they were perfect. Clearly, they hadn’t been.

At the end of the night, he sat at the bar with Rafe, helping with the next day’s menu, as he surreptitiously watched the waitresses clear the dining room.

Halfway through a suggestion for a tangier sauce, his brain stalled. This time Rafe only sighed. But Mic had had enough.

No one could be as perfect as he remembered Lily to be. Yet, he couldn’t seem to convince himself of that with simple words. Mostly because he was curious.

He’d loved her enough at one time to want to marry her. She’d broken his heart. And now here she was, a waitress. Somehow he’d always believed she’d left him for something more. Something better.

So why was she still here in Monte Calanetti?

CHAPTER FIVE

The next day, Lily placed her order for a latte and scone at the coffeehouse. But before she could pay, a hand came from behind, giving the money to the cashier.

She spun around. Mic.

Her heart speeded up and her stomach plummeted. She’d hoped her time off would be her chance to get away from his probing eyes. The day before, he’d done nothing but stare at her. She’d expected anger. Maybe a little bit of resentment. But curiosity? What if he asked her how she’d spent the last eight years? How sad would it be to have to admit she and her sister would have been destitute had it not been for Signor Bartolini, owner of Palazzo di Comparino, giving them a place to live when she took the job as his maid?

“I can afford my own coffee now.”

He sniffed a laugh. “Funny, I remember when we had to scrape together our pennies to buy one and then we’d share it.”

She smiled. “Yes. Our Sunday morning treat.” Again, she thought of the last sip he’d always saved for her. The memory nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“So how is your sister?”

Her gaze jerked to his. “She’s good. At university now.”

He chuckled. “That was a fast eight years.”

She glanced away as the barista called her name and handed her coffee and scone to her. “Yes. It was.”

“And what about you?”

Her nerve endings quivered. She’d let him leave her so he could become successful. The last thing she wanted to admit was what a failure she’d been. “What about me?”

“How have you been?”

He motioned to an empty table and her heart stuttered. He was going to sit with her?

She sighed at her own stupidity. Of course, he was. Eight years had gone by. Those eight years had been very good to him. She was the one with the past she wanted to hide. And if she made a big deal of this, he’d probe until he discovered the things that would humiliate her. Even if she told him she’d enrolled at university with Melony but had stayed behind the first semester to give her sister a taste of freedom, it would just prove it had taken her almost eight years to get her life together.

She led them to the table, slid out of her coat and sat, pretending that being so close to him didn’t set off a firestorm of flutters in her stomach. “I’ve been fine. Busy. How about you?”

“I’m actually between jobs. I’ve been offered a partnership in a restaurant in Paris. I’m probably going to take it but I have a few weeks to think it through.”

She smiled. “It’s nice that you have options.”

His blue eyes twinkled with the joy of his success. “It is. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t appreciate how lucky I am.”

He shifted a little closer, not something the old Mic would have done, and Lily’s nerves prickled. Even in his expensive jacket and designer jeans and shirt, she’d been seeing him as the Mic she’d loved. But as he had said, eight years had gone by. He had money now and fame.

She looked deeper into his shiny blue eyes, and saw an edginess that hadn’t been there before.

“And it’s the fact that I’ve always been lucky that makes it all the more puzzling that you dumped me.”

“I didn’t dump you. I just didn’t accept your marriage proposal.”

“Why?” He moved closer and ran his thumb along her jaw. “You certainly couldn’t complain about our chemistry. So what happened?”