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“And I like to pour my own wine,” Serafina added quickly, trying to cut off the line of conversation, which could end up...who knew where.
Serg just shook his head in disappointment.
Steering the conversation to safer ground, Sera said, “You’re a natural at this.”
Serg beamed, while Jordan tossed her a questioning look that said You’re creating a monster.
Ignoring Jordan’s expression, Sera went on. “You should have your own gig, Mr. Serenghetti, not minutes snatched from another show. You could tape commercial-length wine segments.” She smiled brightly. “I’ve even got a name. Wine Breaks with Serg!”
The audience clapped in approval.
Before Serg could respond, a producer signaled Camilla, who stepped forward.
“Alla prossima volta,” Camilla said, giving her signature closing line. “Till next time, buon appetito.”
Seconds later, the cameras switched off, and Sera’s gaze tangled with Jordan’s.
He gave a relieved and appreciative grin. “Nice moves. Thanks for giving Dad his cameo and for suggesting something else for him to do. I wouldn’t be surprised if he went straight home to build his business plan.”
“No trouble,” Sera mumbled before looking away in confusion. She had the warm fuzzies from his compliment, and she so didn’t want that feeling where Jordan was concerned. Even mindless sexual attraction to a marquee brand, a celebrity face and a bad-boy body was preferable. Because emotion meant wading into dangerous, deeper waters.
“If Dad has his own project, it’ll take the heat off Mom.” Jordan shrugged. “And who knows? In the future, she might feel comfortable enough to partner with him on air, once he’s got his own audience. Good going.”
Sera blew some wisps of hair away from her face. Why hadn’t she noticed how hot it was under the studio lights when they’d been taping? “I like my entertainment with unexpected plot twists.”
Jordan laughed. “What a coincidence. So do I.”
His siblings came up on stage then, and Jordan turned away to deal with his family.
Sera found herself at momentary loose ends, until her cousin Marisa stepped close, a teasing expression on her face. “You know you’re in trouble, right?”
“I was hoping the trouble was over.”
Her cousin shook her head. “Nope. Every woman who has been on this show to cook alongside a Serenghetti has wound up married to him.”
Sera felt her stomach somersault, but she strove not to show emotion. “Don’t worry. There’s no chance of that in this case.”
She’d sworn Jordan to secrecy, and in any case, their one recent encounter was eons away fr
om a march down the aisle. Marisa angled her head, scanning her expression. “Are you sure there’s nothing more between you and Jordan?”
Sera scoffed. “Of course. Positive.”
“Well, I’ll just repeat what you said to me,” Marisa said, and she mimicked Sera’s voice. “‘He wants you to appear on his mother’s cooking show? That’s serious.’”
“That’s some memory you have,” Sera grumbled.
Her cousin just smiled.
Sera bit back a groan. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.
* * *
Sera hurried out the front doors of St. Vincent’s Hospital to greet the sunny afternoon outside. She’d just visited one of her patients who’d had to have additional surgery.
She was back to business as usual—or so she told herself—after taping Camilla’s show two days ago. She hadn’t heard from Jordan but she was scheduled to see him again soon for their weekly therapy session. Anticipation shivered over her skin.
She’d known her family would eventually see or hear about her appearance on Camilla’s show, so she’d played it off as doing a favor for Jordan and the rest of the Serenghettis. Dante had been thrilled.
