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His mother turned to address the audience, saving him from the spotlight. “And now for another special surprise. We are giving away a set of Stanhope Department Store’s own brand of stainless-steel cookware today, thanks to our guest, Donna Casale. You can try yourself today’s recipe with your own new cookware!”
To much applause, a producer lifted the top of a big, white box to reveal a ten-piece set of gleaming stainless-steel pots and pans.
“Please look under your seats!” Camilla announced. “The person with the red dot is the winner!”
After a few moments, a middle-aged woman stood up excitedly and waved a disc.
“Auguri!” Camilla called, clapping. “Come down to look at your gift.”
When the audience member arrived to inspect her prize, Camilla put an arm around her and turned to the camera. “If you like the Danieli family recipe, please go to our website.”
She paused for what Cole knew would be a voice-over, and the appearance onscreen of the recipe and web address when the episode aired. Then Camilla thanked her guests and the audience members for coming. “Until next time. Alla salute!”
When the camera lights turned off, signaling the end of filming, Marisa visibly relaxed.
“Good job, Mom,” Cole said.
Camilla gave him a beatific smile. “Thank you for l’assistenza.”
If he wasn’t saving one parent, he was saving another. Though he doubted his father would think Cole was saving anything when he heard there was finally a buyer interested in Serenghetti Construction. He’d received an offer earlier in the week but hadn’t shared the news yet with anyone.
At the moment, though, he had more pressing concerns. As the audience began to rise and disperse, he cupped Marisa’s elbow.
“Are you okay?” he asked in a low voice. “You looked as if you were about to have a swoon-worthy moment back there.”
“Only for your legion of female fans,” she replied, blowing a stray hair away from her face.
He suppressed a laugh. That’a girl.
His mother and Donna were approached by a couple of audience members, so he and Marisa had relative privacy.
“Looks as if you might have gained some admirers today, too,” he remarked.
She eyed him. “Including you?”
“I’ve always been a fan.”
“Of my cooking?”
“Of everything, sweet pea.”
Marisa waved a hand in front of her face. “You do know how to turn up the heat.”
He gave her an intimate smile. “We haven’t done it in the kitchen yet.”
At her wide-eyed look, he bit back a grin. He admitted it—he loved flustering Marisa.
“There are other people here,” she replied in a low, urgent voice.
He leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Your kitchen or mine?”
She sucked in a breath. “I—I have to show out my mom.”
He gave her a lingering look, but nodded. Sooner or later, he’d have another chance to fan the flames with Marisa. He figured he’d survived the last fifteen years only because he hadn’t known what he’d been missing...
* * *
As Marisa walked out of the television studio with her mother toward the exit that led to the parking lot, she kept her thoughts to herself.
