LITMIR.BIZ

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bar keeping close tabs on him?

      Anger burned inside him, and Nicco gripped his tumbler so hard he feared the glass would shatter into a hundred pieces. The police had given up searching for suspects, so it was up to him to find out who had trashed his restaurant. And he would. No matter the cost.

      At the bar, Nicco spotted a slim, bald-headed man wearing dark sunglasses in deep conversation with one of the female bartenders, and he sat up taller, straighter. The stranger resembled his ex-friend and former business partner, Tye Caldwell. Nicco considered going into the lounge to find out for sure, but decided against it. Tye wouldn’t be stupid enough to show his face at Dolce Vita after what happened last summer, would he? Nicco squinted, and peered inconspicuously around the young Asian couple sharing a steamy French kiss. The lights were low, and the lounge was packed, which made it impossible for him to get a good look at the well-dressed man. Thinking about, Tye—someone he’d once considered family—filled his heart with pain. Nicco felt a twinge of deep sadness. First Tye screws me over, and then Gracie. Are there any honest, trustworthy people left in the world? he wondered. If my closest friend and confidant could betray me, then anyone can.

      “I’m glad I let you talk me into ordering the vitello. It’s so moist and creamy...”

      Nicco ditched his thoughts and turned his attention to his lovely dinner companion with the knock-out curves. He was a leg man, but couldn’t resist admiring Jariah’s other impressive physical assets. The twenty-seven-year-old beauty was glowing, radiating an inner light that literally lit up the whole restaurant. She smelled like cherry blossoms, spoke with confidence, and despite her youth, carried herself in a composed, mature way. Her ruffled, orange blouse was eye-catching and showed off her toned arms and a hint of cleavage.

      “I’m glad that you’re enjoying your meal,” Nicco said, eying her over the rim of his glass. “If you’d like, I could order you another entrée.”

      “No, thank you. I’ve had more than enough food for one evening.”

      “Does that mean you’re not having dessert?”

      “I can’t. I’m teaching a step-aerobics class in the morning, and if I pig out tonight I won’t be able to keep up with my students.”

      Her beauty dazzled him, made him forget everyone else in the room. Nicco didn’t know if it was the wine or the lively atmosphere in the lounge that helped loosen her up, but it was obvious Jariah was in great spirits. While waiting for their entrees to arrive, she’d asked smart, insightful questions about his company, and impressed him with her vast knowledge of the stock market. Jariah spoke with enthusiasm and passion about her volunteering work, and chatted excitedly about the new projects she’d developed at the Miami Food Bank.

      “I’d love to discuss your business proposition now,” Jariah said, setting aside her plate.

      Clasping her hands together, she looked him straight in the eye, her gaze unwavering and intense. It held him in its powerful grip, refused to let him go, and for the second time that night Nicco hoped he didn’t look as stupid as he felt. “I’d rather hear more about your hobbies and interests,” he said, artfully dodging the question. “What do you do when you’re not teaching fitness classes at Premier Fitness?”

      “Not much. Now, back to your business proposition—”

      “Come l’aragosta era? Fido di che sia stato anche il suo amare, Sig. Morretti.”

      Chef Gambro, an overweight man of fifty, bounded over to the booth and clapped Nicco vigorously on the back. Speaking in Italian, his voice stern, but his manner playful, he explained that he was on a date and didn’t want to be interrupted. Nicco saw Jariah tense, then raise a perfectly arched eyebrow, and wondered if she’d understood what he’d said.

      Gambro turned to Jariah and took her hand. Lifting it to his mouth, he reverently kissed her palm. Gazing at her adoringly, he complimented her effusively in his native tongue, but before Nicco could answer on Jariah’s behalf she responded—in Italian. Her tone was refreshingly light, but she spoke in a voice as lively and as animated as Chef Gambro’s. Dumbfounded, Nicco leaned forward in his seat, unable to believe his ears.

      “Grazie per un pasto meraviglioso, Chef Gambro voi. Tutto era spettacolare, e il vitello era il migliore che abbia mai avuto...”

      Nicco listened, enraptured, and realized that Jariah Brooks was as gracious as she was kind. She thanked Chef Gambro for a delicious meal and promised to return soon for more of his spectacular Italian cooking. The chef beamed, and when he swaggered back to the kitchen seconds later, his chest puffed up with pride.

      “You speak Italian?” Nicco asked, regaining the use of his tongue.

      “Yes, and Spanish, as well.”

      “That’s impressive.”

      “I had no choice. My parents forced me to take foreign language classes for years.”

      “That must have been a total drag.”

      “It was. My parents had very high expectations for me, and...” Jariah winced, as if she had a toothache, and her expression turned somber. “I owe all of my success to them.”

      Silence settled at the table like an unwelcomed guest.

      “Tell me more about you background, Jariah.”

      The corners of her mouth tightened. “What do you want to know that we haven’t already discussed tonight?”

      Everything! he thought, draping an arm over the back of the booth. Do you feel the chemistry between us? Have you ever had a summer fling? Would you like to?

      To keep from reaching across the table, and caressing her skin, Nicco picked up his glass tumbler and downed the rest of his cognac. He started to ask Jariah about her career aspirations, but she interrupted him and repeated the same question she’d posed earlier—the one he’d conveniently forgot. Nicco was enjoying their conversation, and wasn’t ready to discuss his business proposition just yet. He wanted to hear more about her family, what she liked doing in her free time, and the kind of guys she dated. Not because he was interested in her, but because he planned to hire her, and felt it was important to know as much about her as possible, he had convinced himself.

      “Did I get the account manager position?”

      Nicco heard the vulnerability in her voice, saw the twinkle in her eyes and felt the impulse to lie. But he knew there’d be hell to pay if he upset Mrs. Reddick, and the HR Director was dead-set against hiring Jariah. Besides, he had something better in mind for her, and couldn’t wait to see the look on her face when he shared the good news. “No, Jariah, I’m sorry, you didn’t.”

      Her smile faded. “Why not? My interview went so well.”

      “You’re right, it did,” he conceded, troubled by the pained expression on her face. “But we decided to hire someone with more experience.”

      Jariah swallowed hard. “I understand.”

      Driven by compassion, Nicco reached across the table and touched her hand. Jariah jerked away, as if he’d zapped her with a stun gun, and pressed herself flat against the booth.

      “You invited me down here to tell me I didn’t get the job?”

      He heard the accusation in her voice and rushed to explain. “No, of course not. I need an executive assistant, and thought you might be interested in the position.”

      Her eyes tapered, and a scowl stained her lush, red lips. “I’m not.”

      “Don’t you want to hear the job description before you turn it down?”

      “No, Mr. Morretti, I don’t.”

      “Please, call me, Nicco.”

      “No offense, Mr. Morretti, but I have no desire to be a glorified receptionist.”

      He paused to organize his thoughts. Jariah’s reaction was unsettling, and he didn’t understand

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