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“She had a badass left kick in karate, but these days she’s rechanneled the anger into a fashion design business.”
Chiara’s eyes widened. “Ooh, I like it already it.”
So did he... Why hadn’t he dreamed it up before? He had an opening with Chiara that he’d been too blind to see till now. “Mia would love it if you wore one of her creations.”
“I thought I was helping your mother.”
“Both.” He toasted his brilliance. “You can wear Mia’s designs on the cooking show.”
Chiara threw up her hands. “You’ve thought of everything!”
Rick narrowed his eyes. “Not everything. I still need to figure out what to do about your overenthusiastic fan and your Vegas-loving father. Give me time.”
Number three on his list was getting her into bed, but he wasn’t going to mention that. He didn’t examine his motives closely, except he was nursing one sad case of sexual frustration since their truncated tryst on her weight bench late yesterday. He tucked his fingers into his pockets to resist the urge to touch her...
He cleared his throat. “It would mean a lot to her if you made an appearance as a guest. The show is doing well. The name recently changed from Flavors of Italy to Flavors of Italy with Camilla Serenghetti. But the station is under new management, and Mom wants to make a good impression.”
“Of course,” Chiara deadpanned. “It’s a slow climb up the ladder of fame. I can relate.”
“Mom’s is more of a short stepladder.”
“What happens when your mother and I land on the cover of WE Magazine together?” Chiara quipped. “Will you be able to deal with being caught between two famous women?”
“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,” Rick replied drolly. “And knowing Mom, she’ll want to be on the magazine with the both of us, like a hovering fairy godmother.”
“She sounds like a character.”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“This is serious,” she remarked drily. “You’re bringing me home to meet Mama.”
“In a sense,” he said noncommittally—because what he wanted to do was bring her home to bed. “She’d be even more impressed if you’d starred in an Italian telenovela.”
“A soap opera?” Chiara responded. “Actually I was a guest on a couple of episodes of Sotto Il Sole.”
Rick’s eyebrows rose.
“It was before I became known in the States,” she added. “My character wound up in a coma and was taken off life support.”
“They didn’t like your acting?”
“No, they just needed more melodrama. My character was an American so it didn’t matter if I spoke Italian well.”
“Still, my mother will eat it up.” He flashed a grin. “No pun intended.”
In fact, Rick suspected his mother would love everything about Chiara Feran. Their relationship “breakup,” which inevitably loomed on the horizon, would disappoint his mother more than a recipe that didn’t work out. He’d have to fake bodily injury and blame the rupture with Chiara on the distance created by their two careers...
“What about filming?” Chiara asked with a frown.
“We’re in the last few days. Then Dan will move to editing. I can arrange with Odele for us to fly to Boston once you’re done with your scenes. Mom’s taping can wait till then.” He didn’t add he still had to broach the subject with his mother, but she’d no doubt be thrilled to move heaven and earth with her producers in order to fit a star of Chiara’s caliber into the schedule.
“Where will we stay?” Chiara pressed.
Rick could tell she was debating her options, but the wavering was a good sign. He shrugged, deciding to seem nonchalant in order to soothe any doubts she had.
“I’ve got an apartment in Welsdale.”
“Oh?”
