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“It’s not. That was a fun night, but I’m sure neither of us plans to repeat it.” Liar. Liar.
“So we’re okay?” Hope reflected in her eyes.
“Sure.” He was as far from “sure” about this as he could get, but he’d tough it out. After all, he’d given his word. A DeFiore wasn’t a quitter. “You still want to complete the filming, don’t you?”
There was a determined set of her jaw as she nodded. He didn’t want to admit it, but he admired the way she stuck by her commitments, even if she didn’t want to be around him. But there was something more. He peered closer at her, noticing the shadows beneath her eyes.
“You don’t need to waste your time in here.” He didn’t want her wearing herself out on his behalf. “You should get some sleep since you...you were up most of the night. I don’t need you walking around here in a sleep-filled haze.”
“I’ll be fine. I...I don’t sleep much.”
He wasn’t going to argue with her. If she found some sort of comfort in sorting through this mound of paperwork that stretched back more years than he wanted to know, why should he stop her?
“Fine. Sort through as many papers as you like.”
Her brows lifted as her eyes widened. “You mean it?”
“Sure. But I do have one question. How do you plan to sort everything when it’s in Italian?”
She shrugged. “I’ll muddle through. I took Italian in school.”
And yet another surprise. They just kept coming, and without the aid of caffeine, he had problems keeping the surprise from filtering onto his face. He scrubbed his hand over his head, not caring that he was making a mess of his hair.
He noticed the eager look on her face. “Whatever. It has to be done soon anyway if I plan to...”
“Plan to what?”
He couldn’t believe that he’d almost blurted out his plans to sell the ristorante. He hadn’t even discussed it with Nonno. There was just something about Lizzie that put him at ease and had him feeling as though he could discuss anything. But obviously the feeling didn’t go both ways.
“Once there’s room, I was planning to move the business files I have upstairs in my study down here.”
“Understood.” She gave him a pointed look. “Before you go, we really should talk about last night—”
“It was late. Neither of us were thinking clearly. It’s best if we forget about it. We still have to work together.”
Her mouth gaped but no words came out. The look in her eyes said there were plenty of thoughts racing round in her mind, but that wasn’t his problem. By admitting it’d been a mistake, he’d beaten her to the punch. That was fine with him.
He refused to think about how she’d discarded him and his lovemaking so readily. Soon she’d be gone. He’d just have to figure out how they could avoid each other as much as possible between now and then.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
PRETEND IT HADN’T HAPPENED?
Was he kidding? The thought ricocheted through Lizzie’s mind for about the thousandth time since Dante had spoken the words. His solution was paramount to pretending there wasn’t a thousand-pound pink polka-dot elephant in the room. Impossible.
How could he just forget their lovemaking?
As the days rolled into weeks, he acted as though that earth-moving night had never happened. And he didn’t leave her any room to explain or make amends. He only interacted with her on a minimal basis. The easy friendship they’d developed had crashed upon rocky shores. She missed her newfound friend more than she thought possible.
And worse yet, their chilly rapport was now apparent on the filmed segments. The director appeared to be at a loss as to how to regain their easy camaraderie. Their television segment was in jeopardy. And Lizzie couldn’t let things end like this—too much was riding on their success.
While spending yet another sleepless night staring into the darkness, she’d stumbled across an idea. A chance to smooth things out with Dante.
Instead of spending another lonely weekend sightseeing while Dante visited the vineyard, she’d invited herself to accompany him to the country. Armed with an old family recipe she’d found while straightening the office and with Massimo by her side, she’d commandeered the kitchen. She would cook the family a feast and in the process hopefully she’d mend a fence with Dante.
“Do you really think they’ll like it?” She glanced at Massimo as he sat at the large kitchen table near the picture window.
“Don’t you mean will Dante like it?”
