LITMIR.BIZ

      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      CHAPTER TWELVE

      CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      CHAPTER ONE

      GIANNI FIRELLI was restless.

      It was six o’clock on a warm May evening and he’d been trapped at the party celebrating the birth of Stefano Lucchesi’s child for what seemed forever.

      The room was too crowded, the voices too loud, and if anyone stuck one more squalling baby under his nose, he was going to forget that the expected response to such an affront on a man’s eardrums was a smile. Between babies-in-bellies and babies-in-blankets, there were almost enough kids here to field a football team.

      It looked as if Stefano had married into a fertile clan.

      As if that weren’t enough, an hour ago, Tomasso Massini, one of Gianni’s oldest friends, had shown up with his wife. His extremely pregnant wife.

      You, too, Tommy? Gianni had thought even as he shook his hand, kissed the wife and said all the right things.

      The sexy blonde with the endless legs was the only diversion Gianni had seen, but she’d turned out to be as rude as she was easy on the eyes.

      Sighing, he cast a surreptitious glance at his watch. Another few minutes and he could make a polite exit. Until then, he’d smile, say the right things, and try to figure out what in God’s name had impelled Stefano to give up his freedom and become not just a husband but also a daddy.

      Gianni had nothing against marriage or babies. Someday, he supposed, he’d settle down, marry and have a couple of children of his own, but that was way in the future.

      Not yet, though. It was much too soon.

      Stefano and Tomasso seemed happy enough, but that didn’t keep him from puzzling over why two sane men would give up their freedom when they were only in their thirties.

      Was it something in the air?

      He’d almost said that to Tomasso, but you didn’t joke with a man whose wife had a belly the size of a boulder, not even if you’d known him since you were ten. He, Tommy and Stefano had grown up together on the crowded streets of Manhattan’s Little Italy. Their paths didn’t cross often anymore but they were there for each other when it mattered.

      Obviously babies mattered.

      Somebody—one of Stefano’s new brothers-in-law—brushed past him, a screaming infant in his arms. A smell wafted from the child.

      It wasn’t baby powder.

      “Sorry,” the guy said, and grinned.

      Gianni managed a smile in return. “No problem,” he said, and headed for the terrace where he took a deep, deep breath of fresh air. Okay. He’d stay out here where he could enjoy a little quiet along with the view of Central Park forty stories below and think about whether he wanted to see Lynda tonight without having to pretend he was delighted that his two best friends had obviously lost their minds.

      Maybe he should have stayed with his instincts and opted out of this party. He’d been tempted to send a gift from Tiffany’s, tuck in a note explaining how sorry he was he couldn’t make it in person, etc., etc., etc., but how could he not show up at this celebration for Stefano’s child? He’d missed the wedding—bad weather that shut down all the airports had seen to that.

      So, he was here.

      The blonde with the up-to-her-ears legs was here, too.

      Gianni scowled. Was he back to that? Well, there was nothing else to think about. The lady had made an impression. A negative one. And, since he hadn’t come up with much else to do after he’d made the rounds, his thoughts naturally returned to her.

      He’d had a toothache once. Try as he had, he couldn’t keep the tip of his tongue from returning to the offending molar.

      This was the same ridiculous thing.

      Gianni looked into the Lucchesis’

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