Caught Up in You by Sophie Swift Page B

owner said to me after Mrs. Trench coat had left. “Not a gigolo.”
    Ouch.
    That hurt.
    Although, to be honest I’d been called much worse.
    I left with my shirt still untucked and my jeans still unbuttoned. It wasn’t until I got into my car a few minutes later that I found her hotel room key in the pocket of my jeans. An invitation to finish what we’d started.
    And I’ll admit it was tempting.
    But I didn’t need a piece of ass right now. I needed a job. I’d moved from Iowa to New York City to be an actor (I know, I know, another cliché) but when I found that pickings for roles were slim and rent was high, I came here. To Eastbrook, Connecticut. And although rents weren’t as exorbitant here, they certainly weren’t free.
    That’s what landed me at the front door of La Dolce Vita Italian Restaurant two days later, answering a want ad for a bartender who didn’t speak Italian.
    Talk about fucking weird thing to specify in a job posting.
    That should have been my first hint. I should have recognized the crazy before I even walked through the door. But I guess after the night I’d had, everything else seemed relatively sane in comparison.
    God, was I ever wrong.
     
     
     
     

Two
    “Where have you worked before?” Lia Smart asked me when I came in for an interview.
    God, she was beautiful. That was the first thing I noticed. Also, there was a kind of naivety about her. I didn’t think she was old enough to be running a restaurant by herself. She looked barely out of high school.
    But I figured as long as her check cleared, I didn’t care how old she was.
    “My last job was at Union Bistro,” I said and instantly noticed the wince that soured her delicate features. I wasn’t surprised. No restaurant in town liked Union Bistro. They were the most popular spot in Eastbrook.
    “Why’d you leave?” she asked. The question I’d been dreading. I eyed the fully-stocked bar behind her.
    Because I was caught giving head to a customer on the bar.
    “The owner and I had differing opinions,” I lied.
    Although I guess it technically wasn’t a lie. We did have differing opinions. I thought it was perfectly acceptable to give a woman an orgasm inside his restaurant. He didn’t.
    And don’t you doubt for a second that I would have given her the orgasm of her life had we not been interrupted.
    Lia nodded, seemingly satisfied with my answer, which was a relief.
    “And you don’t speak Italian,” she confirmed, keeping her eyes on the notepad in front of her.
    Fuck, there was that weird question again.
    Why would an Italian restaurant not want a bartender who spoke Italian?
    “Not a word,” I said. “In fact, for the longest time, I thought it was pronounced Las-agg-na.”
    She cracked a smile. It was a small victory but enough to make me want her.
    “When can you start?” she asked.
    I opened my arms wide. “Tonight. Right this instant. I’ll get back there right now and pour you a drink. What do you want?”
    Another smile. Damn, she was cute.
    She stood up. “Tonight. We open at 5.”
    I checked my watch. Three hours from now. “I’ll just run home and put on my sexy clothes,” I told her with a smirk to let her know I was kidding.
    Kind of.
    She cocked an eyebrow in my direction but stayed silent. I took it as a sign that she liked me.
    I didn’t need much.
    “By the way,” I said, stopping just short of the door. “What’s with the no Italian thing? You have an ex-Italian lover who broke your heart or something?”
    I’d meant it as a joke but I could tell from the flicker of something that flashed over her face that I’d hit a sore spot.
    “See you at 5,” was all she said and then she disappeared into the kitchen.
     
     

Three
    I’d never tried harder to seduce a woman than I tried with Lia Smart.
    God, she drove me crazy. I’d flirt, she’d flirt back, then I’d ask her out and she’d say no. Over and over again it happened. One time, I got so close, I swore I’d managed to