spoon as I raised and lowered it from the jar to my mouth a couple or twenty times.
"I've told you before, Napoleon, chocolate is good for people but poisonous for dogs."
His ear flopped closed as though refusing to listen to any more of my excuses.
I spooned another gob of the silky-smooth ambrosia into my mouth and heard the phone ring from inside my purse.
" Sonamabiccia ," I cursed in Italianized English as I jumped up and ran to the kitchen. I placed the Nutella on the counter and threw the spoon into the sink. Then I grabbed the phone from my bag and saw "Bradley" on the display. Instead of the usual chest-fluttering happiness I felt when he called, now I felt nothing but gut-wrenching anxiety. By this time, Pauline had probably given him an earful about me, my nonna , and the pranzo ufficiale .
"H-hello?" I stammered, bracing myself for the worst as I carried the phone into the living room.
"Hey, babe," Bradley's sexy voice replied without a trace of animosity.
For a split second, his greeting reminded me of my infuriating exchange with Pauline hours earlier, but I was too relieved to think about the venomous vixen now. I curled up on the chaise lounge and purred, "Hey you."
"When you sound like that," he growled, "you make me want to drive straight to your house and break the door down."
My pulse began to quicken, and I said in a husky voice, "Then it's too bad you're out of town."
"Actually, I just got back. One of my meetings got postponed, so I caught a flight out a day early."
"Oh?" Now my pulse was racing. "Where are you now?"
"I'm getting some takeout on my way to the office. I've been craving Chinese."
Chinese? My blood stopped cold. But then I reminded myself that he was talking about food, not scheming secretaries who were after their bosses.
"Sometime I need to bring you to this place," he continued. "It's a dive, but the food is amazing. It's called 'Oriental Triangle Chinese.'"
I sat straight up. Did he say triangle and Chinese? My mind flashed to my tarot card reading. Was this a sign that Chandra was right about that Three of Cups card?
"They have some French food too," he added.
The minute he said the word French I had my answer. "And a bit of Italian, I'm sure," I muttered.
"Sorry, Franki. The cell signal is weak in here. What'd you say?"
I cleared my throat and replied in a frosty tone, "I said, I prefer Italian."
He gave a low, sexy laugh that warmed my chilled blood—and some other parts of me too. "I do too."
"Well, in that case," I began, nestling back into the chaise lounge, "you'd better get right over here so I can serve you my specialty." The second the words came out of my mouth I hoped he understood the euphemism. Because if not, the only thing I could offer him to eat was "ants on a log" with hair removal wax in place of peanut butter.
"I wish I could," he said wistfully. "But something came up at the bank today that I have to take care of ASAP."
I swallowed my disappointment, along with a glob of Nutella that had gathered around one of my molars, and resumed my seductive tone. "I guess you'll just have to wait to sample my specialty on our date tomorrow night."
"About that," he began, "Pauline rescheduled the meeting that got postponed as a video conference for tomorrow night. I'm sorry."
I leapt to my feet and bit the inside of my cheek to keep from blurting out something I would regret. I had no doubt that she'd scheduled that meeting to keep Bradley away from me, but I couldn't tell him that. I needed him to think that I was trying to get along with her, even if I had no such intention. So, through clenched teeth, I uttered a normal-sounding "Thursday, then?"
"I'll try, babe, but I can't guarantee anything. Between the merger and some other things going on at the bank, I've been working nonstop. Even Pauline is working overtime to help me put out fires."
Yes, she is , I thought. Yours and mine .
I heard my phone beep. I pulled the phone from my ear and looked
"I've told you before, Napoleon, chocolate is good for people but poisonous for dogs."
His ear flopped closed as though refusing to listen to any more of my excuses.
I spooned another gob of the silky-smooth ambrosia into my mouth and heard the phone ring from inside my purse.
" Sonamabiccia ," I cursed in Italianized English as I jumped up and ran to the kitchen. I placed the Nutella on the counter and threw the spoon into the sink. Then I grabbed the phone from my bag and saw "Bradley" on the display. Instead of the usual chest-fluttering happiness I felt when he called, now I felt nothing but gut-wrenching anxiety. By this time, Pauline had probably given him an earful about me, my nonna , and the pranzo ufficiale .
"H-hello?" I stammered, bracing myself for the worst as I carried the phone into the living room.
"Hey, babe," Bradley's sexy voice replied without a trace of animosity.
For a split second, his greeting reminded me of my infuriating exchange with Pauline hours earlier, but I was too relieved to think about the venomous vixen now. I curled up on the chaise lounge and purred, "Hey you."
"When you sound like that," he growled, "you make me want to drive straight to your house and break the door down."
My pulse began to quicken, and I said in a husky voice, "Then it's too bad you're out of town."
"Actually, I just got back. One of my meetings got postponed, so I caught a flight out a day early."
"Oh?" Now my pulse was racing. "Where are you now?"
"I'm getting some takeout on my way to the office. I've been craving Chinese."
Chinese? My blood stopped cold. But then I reminded myself that he was talking about food, not scheming secretaries who were after their bosses.
"Sometime I need to bring you to this place," he continued. "It's a dive, but the food is amazing. It's called 'Oriental Triangle Chinese.'"
I sat straight up. Did he say triangle and Chinese? My mind flashed to my tarot card reading. Was this a sign that Chandra was right about that Three of Cups card?
"They have some French food too," he added.
The minute he said the word French I had my answer. "And a bit of Italian, I'm sure," I muttered.
"Sorry, Franki. The cell signal is weak in here. What'd you say?"
I cleared my throat and replied in a frosty tone, "I said, I prefer Italian."
He gave a low, sexy laugh that warmed my chilled blood—and some other parts of me too. "I do too."
"Well, in that case," I began, nestling back into the chaise lounge, "you'd better get right over here so I can serve you my specialty." The second the words came out of my mouth I hoped he understood the euphemism. Because if not, the only thing I could offer him to eat was "ants on a log" with hair removal wax in place of peanut butter.
"I wish I could," he said wistfully. "But something came up at the bank today that I have to take care of ASAP."
I swallowed my disappointment, along with a glob of Nutella that had gathered around one of my molars, and resumed my seductive tone. "I guess you'll just have to wait to sample my specialty on our date tomorrow night."
"About that," he began, "Pauline rescheduled the meeting that got postponed as a video conference for tomorrow night. I'm sorry."
I leapt to my feet and bit the inside of my cheek to keep from blurting out something I would regret. I had no doubt that she'd scheduled that meeting to keep Bradley away from me, but I couldn't tell him that. I needed him to think that I was trying to get along with her, even if I had no such intention. So, through clenched teeth, I uttered a normal-sounding "Thursday, then?"
"I'll try, babe, but I can't guarantee anything. Between the merger and some other things going on at the bank, I've been working nonstop. Even Pauline is working overtime to help me put out fires."
Yes, she is , I thought. Yours and mine .
I heard my phone beep. I pulled the phone from my ear and looked
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