Give a Little (9 page)

She didn’t say anything for a long time, but then her delicate hand snaked into his and she murmured, “I’m sorry.”

He exhaled. “The old man wasn’t doing well, and he missed my grandma. He was ready to go.”

She nodded, her hand still in his. “So he had a bucket list, and you’re fulfilling it?”

“Yeah.” He laughed a little. “The auction was his doing. You have him to thank for this outing.”

“And here I thought I had my money to thank for it,” she said wryly.

He faced her. “Why
did
you pay so much for a date with me? You could have just asked. You know I’d have said yes.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” She shrugged. “It’s just money.”

“Bullshit. Not even for a rich princess like you is ten thousand quid
just money
.”

Her lips pursed, as though she smelled something foul. “Melody Franklin was bidding on you.”

“Who was that?” Then he remembered the glitzy woman. “That chick decked out in gold?”

Jasmine scowled deeper. “I wasn’t about to let her win.”

“
Rwrr
,” Rowdy said with an amused smile. “Put your claws away, kitty. You won.”

She huddled in her seat. “I hate her.”

“I noticed that. Want to tell me why?”

“No.”

Grinning, Rowdy nudged her. “Come on. It’s got to be good to have you this upset. Did she steal a guy you were interested in?”

Jasmine reared back, affronted. “No man would ever leave me for her.”

“Of course not,” he said, trying not to smile because he was afraid she’d poke his eyes out.

Jasmine played with the collar of her top. “You’ll think I’m silly.”

“You don’t care what I think.”

Her frown just deepened.

Rowdy blinked in surprise. “Do you?”

“Probably not.” But she didn’t sound sure.

“I thought so.” He wasn’t sure either.

She faced him, her hand gripping his, the words rushing out of her. “I volunteer at a literacy organization—”

“You teach kids to read?” he couldn’t help interrupting.

“Don’t sound so incredulous, like you didn’t think I’d know how to read.”

“I’m just surprised you’d want to be around kids. Please.” He gestured. “Proceed.”

For a second he didn’t think she would, but then she said, “Melody volunteered there briefly as well, but in administration. One day I was on my way to the child I was tutoring, and I heard her tell one of the other volunteers that the girl was an idiot and that I wasn’t smart enough to teach someone that stupid.”

“The bitch,” he said, meaning it. “Why would she say that about you?”

Jasmine shook her head. “You don’t understand. I didn’t care what she said about me. I’ve had people say far worse. But that child was standing just beyond the door and heard everything. I’ll never forget the look in her eyes. That’s unforgivable.”

This was a side of her he had never expected to exist, and it intrigued him. “I bet you got even with the woman.”

Her eyes got hard. “I got her fired.”

“Good for you.”

“You don’t think I overreacted?” she asked him, her gaze measuring as if his answer was a deciding factor in their future.

He cradled her hand, because she was especially precious in her ferocity. “You could have run her over and I’d have stood on the sidewalk and applauded.”

“You’re too nice,” she said suspiciously.

“You should talk to Mac, my best friend. He’d tell you otherwise.” He squeezed her hand as the room darkened. “Shhh. They’ll kick you out if you’re noisy.”

She rolled her eyes but said nothing more. She didn’t take her hand out of his either, and he liked that.

It turned out that it was a horror movie. By the end of the first half, Rowdy was clenching her hand in a death grip and covering his eyes with his other. “Tell me what’s happening,” he whispered.

“Shhh,” she hissed back, humor in her voice.

“Is she still alive? I need to know,” he insisted.

Jasmine chuckled next to him. “Come on. You snuck in. I think that’s all you needed, right?”

“Right.” He hopped up, eager to get out before another person stupidly walked into his doom. Outside the theater, he said, “I don’t know how you could watch it. I’m going to have nightmares tonight. I’m going to have to come sleep with you.”

She smirked. “Nice try.”

“It couldn’t hurt.” He shrugged. “Want to have dinner?”

“Are we going to dine and dash? Is that on the bucket list?”

He shook his head. “I just don’t want to take you home yet. I like being around you.”

She was silent for a long moment, and he was beginning to think he’d blown it when she said, “I’d love to have dinner.”

Still finishing a text to Inga, Bea pushed open the door of her car before Nigel could come around to let her out, the way he normally did. She pressed send and hurried onto the sidewalk and down to the bakery where she was supposed to meet Rosalind and Summer. Rosalind wanted a macaron tower for her wedding instead of a cake, and they needed to finalize it all.

She was late, and she hated that. If this were a business meeting, she would have cared less—sometimes she arrived tactically late, to give the impression that she wasn’t as interested as she was.

But her sisters were different, particularly Rosalind, who’d spent so many years in California in self-imposed exile. Reginald had driven her all the way across the world. Bea had always felt guilty about that—that she couldn’t find a way to keep Rosalind closer to home.

That was then, and Rosalind was here now. She was commuting to San Francisco less and less, thanks to Nick. Bea would be forever grateful to the man, simply for that. She hurried into the bakery, looking for her sisters’ blond heads.

Rosalind and Summer were in the back, sitting at a table. Nick sat with them, holding Rosalind’s hand. Sprawled next to him was Luca.

Bea stopped abruptly. She may be grateful for Nick keeping Rosalind in London, but she found fault with his choice of company.

She realized Luca was staring at her, even though he hadn’t moved an indolent inch. Resisting the urge to smooth her hair, she sauntered up to the group. “Have you already decided on the flavors?”

Rosalind glanced up, her face lighting with her smile. “I wanted to get your final approval.”

Unfortunately the only seat was next to Luca. He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow as if daring her to move the chair.

She set her bag on the table and took off her coat. “Rather a crowd here, isn’t there?” she said, aiming a look at him.

“That’d be my fault,” Nick said with an endearing smile. “I needed moral support.”

Bea arched her brow. “To help pick out macarons?”

He shrugged. “I don’t understand them, really.”

Rosalind kissed his hand. “It’s easy, love. They represent a sweet life together.”

“And sisterly love,” Summer added.

“What flavors are you considering?” Bea asked to distract herself from the way Luca was staring at her. He looked upset with her. Why would he be upset? She was the one who should be piqued. He wasn’t going to help her unless she sold herself to him for a week.

A week alone with Luca Fiorelli. Her body melted at the mere thought of a week in his bed.

It was impossible—and dangerous. How would she be able to shield herself against his relentless charm if she were around him nonstop?

“Bea?” Summer put a hand on her arm.

She blinked. “Yes?”

Summer eyed her with concern. “Is everything okay?”

“Perfectly.” She smiled and focused on the matter at hand. She pointed to the rainbow variety of macarons on the table. “Are these the flavors you’re considering?”

Rosalind pursed her lips. “I was thinking maybe something spring-like. Maybe the green.”

“Is it pistachio flavored?” Bea asked.

“Yes.”

“Beatrice doesn’t like pistachio,” Luca said.

Bea gaped at him, aware that everyone else was, too. Her face became suspiciously warm, and she had to cross her ankles to keep from kicking him.

As though nothing was unusual, he reached across the table for the light brown macarons. He held it out, looking at her like they were the only ones in the room and he was considering tearing her clothes off. “It’s hazelnut,” he explained. “Your favorite flavor.”

“Is it really?” Summer asked, her eyes wide as she stared back and forth between them as though Bea and Luca were engaged in a tennis match. “I didn’t know that.”

“I did,” Luca said before she could answer. “She likes mint, too. Perhaps a combination of hazelnut and mint for the tower.”

“And a pink,” Rosalind said. “Strawberry.”

“Raspberry,” Bea and Luca said at the same time.

“Jinx,” Nick said with an amused grin.

Rosalind nudged her fiancé.

“This might be a mistake, but I have to ask.” Summer leaned forward, her forearms on the table. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” Bea said firmly, kicking Luca’s shin to warn him to stay quiet.

“
Ahi.
” Reaching for his leg, he frowned at her.

“Excuse us for a second.” Smiling tightly at her sisters, she stood and pulled Luca with her, outside the bakery. Once they were clear of the door, she rounded on him. “What are you doing?”

He gazed at her with all the haughty superiority of his Roman ancestors. “I was showing you that I know you.”

She shook her head. “This isn’t a game anymore, Luca.”

“It was never a game for me, Beatrice.” He pulled her to him, holding her close by her waist. “You’re the one who treats what’s between us like it’s nothing.”

“Because there
is
nothing.” She resisted the desire to kiss him, to wind her arms around his neck and beg him to take her home. She refused to ask him what she meant to him.

She didn’t need to know. She didn’t want to know. She was perfectly fine on her own.

“Come away with me, Beatrice,” he whispered darkly, clutching her tight. “Everything you could want, it will be yours. Pleasure, Stallon-E, and me.”

“I don’t want you,” she said, hating how weak she sounded. She shivered as she thought about him naked against her.

“You quiver for me.”

“It’s the chill spring air,” she lied. She glanced to the right and saw her family practically pressed against the glass watching, and she mentally groaned. “I need to go back inside.”

He muttered something that sounded like a curse in Italian. Abruptly, he let her go. Hands in his pocket, he strode down the street.

She stared after him, as though waiting to make sure he wouldn’t come back, but she knew she was waiting to see if he’d look back at her.

He didn’t.

Bea leaned against the one black wall in the art gallery, staying out of Viola’s way as she chatted with prospective buyers. She had her mobile in her hand, but she wasn’t even looking at it, which was a testament to how irritated she was.

Luca was detestable. The nerve of him, trying to outmaneuver her—and in front of her family.

Because of it, she’d had Inga redouble her efforts to contact Jeff Toland at Stallon-E to no avail. Inga
had
managed to find out that Fraser had been invited to the Stallon-E factory in Italy.

Bea gritted her teeth. How had that wanker managed to get in? Inga had been working on it all week and she hadn’t managed to get a foot in the door. That wasn’t normal, made worse by the fact that Fraser was winning this race.

The real question: Did she want to take this away from Fraser bad enough to make a deal with the devil?

Viola walked over to her, the smile on her face strained. “Are you all right?”

“Perfectly.” Bea winced, not believing herself. “Why do you ask?”

“Because you just growled,” her sister said in a hushed voice, glancing at her customers, who were shooting Bea odd looks. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Vi nodded. “So it’s about Luca. Give me a second and I’ll get rid of these people.”

She reached out for her sister. “Vi—”

But Viola was already moving toward the people, a card magically outstretched as she apologized for needing to close the gallery. She herded them out the door, locked it, and then approached Bea with a no-nonsense expression on her face.

She opened her mouth to reassure her sister, but the words that came out were, “Luca’s blackmailing me.”

Vi looked at her in disbelief. “He wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“You’re taking his side?” she said, affronted. “I’m your sister.”

“Yes, but this involves Luca.” Vi shrugged. “You’re not rational where he’s concerned.”

“I’m always rational,” she lied.

“Except with Luca.” Her sister looked at her with empathetic kindness. “Are you sure this doesn’t have anything to do with the other day and the macarons?”

Hands on her hips, she narrowed her eyes. “What do you know about that?”

“Really, Bea. The entire family knows about the incident,
and
how you and Luca were cuddled outside.” Vi grinned. “I only wish I’d been there to see it. If only I hadn’t had my doctor’s visit.”

Good Lord, that was the last thing she’d needed. Viola was too astute and knew her too well—she’d have picked up on all the subtext Bea hoped she’d managed to stifle with Rosalind and Summer.

Apparently she hadn’t stifled enough, though.

“All right.” Vi sighed. “Forget the macarons and tell me how he’s blackmailing you.”

She outlined it quickly, feeling her blood pressure rising as she told Vi what he’d proposed. Voicing the thought of a week in Italy alone with him made her stomach clench.

“I think that’s great,” Vi said when Bea was done.

Bea looked at Viola in disbelief. “Those must be pregnancy hormones talking.”

Vi rubbed a hand over her gently swelling stomach. “It’s common sense. You want an introduction to this company, and Luca can give it to you. He wants you to spend a week with him, and I’m guessing you might enjoy yourself if you let yourself. We all think Luca’s hot.”

A niggle of jealousy made her stiffen. “Who’s we?”

Vi grinned. “Have I told you I love you lately?”

“Why do I feel like you’re being condescending?” she said. Then she shook her head. “The situation is impossible.”