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“Well, don’t worry about it now,” said Chelsea. “Now you can just focus on being your warm and friendly self with him, and he’ll be totally besotted.”
Mary Ellen smiled at the thought. Could he really fall for her? Could she really fall for him? It was such a pleasant surprise to discover that he wasn’t the superficial guy she’d thought him to be. From what the girls said, she could understand that perhaps he was now learning—and liking—that she wasn’t the cool stand-offish type he’d thought her to be. Was he really looking to change his ways and have a relationship? And was she willing to change her ways and risk opening up her heart again?
Molly grinned at her. “Look at you. You’ve gone all Mona Lisa smile on us. I hope this works out for you.”
“We’ll just have to wait and see, I guess, won’t we?”
“We will,” said Chelsea. “I just hope that you’re prepared to give him a chance. It’s a risk, you know. Are you prepared to take it? Are you prepared to give it a shot?”
Molly gave her a puzzled look, but Mary Ellen knew what she meant. She’d dated a little since she’d been in Napa, but since David, she hadn’t wanted to risk getting her heart broken again. If anyone could break her heart, well, that’d be Antonio. She shrugged. “No risk, no reward.”
“My point exactly,” said Chelsea.
Chapter Eight
Antonio parked the car outside Mary Ellen’s building at ten minutes before seven. He’d waited as long as he could. Mary Ellen had suggested that she drive herself to his place since he was cooking, but he’d said he’d come to get her. It was what a man did. That and the fact that this way he knew there was no risk of her getting in her car and going home after dinner. She wouldn’t be going home until he took her, and he didn’t plan to do that before morning. If it were up to him, he’d keep her for all of tomorrow—the whole week ahead, for as long as she’d stay.
He braced his hands against the steering wheel and leaned his head back against the seat.Take it easy, he told himself.Slow it down. Marcos was right. He shouldn’t try to rush her. He should just be himself, have fun with her and let things happen in their own time. He checked his watch. Seven minutes before seven. By the time he got up to her apartment, he’d only be five minutes early. Maybe he’d find her not quite ready? Maybe she’d ask him to finish zipping up her dress—and he could unzip it instead. No. For one thing, Mary Ellen wasn’t the type to be on the last minute, and for another, he was going to try to keep his hands off her until after dinner.
He got out of the car and strode to her building. He smiled to himself in the elevator. It’d taken every ounce of his willpower to keep his hands off her in here last night. He’d been so tempted to hit the button and make it stop, to press her up against the wall, lift her skirt up around her waist and … dammit. He was doing it again. The elevator came to a stop, and he took a deep breath as he stepped out. He needed to calm down and think thoughts of cold showers. No! That made him imagine Mary Ellen in the shower, droplets of water rolling down over her full breasts, her wet nipples standing erect. He shook his head to clear those images, while at the same time promising himself he’d see her that way for real just as soon as he could.
When he reached her door, he balled his fists, digging his fingernails into his palms in an attempt to make himself focus on the here and now. Then he knocked on the door.
It took a few moments before she answered it, long enough for him to wonder if she was checking herself over in the mirror before she did.
The door swung open, and there she was. Beautiful. He let his gaze run over her. The dress was perfect, a royal blue number that crossed over in front, exposing enough cleavage to make his eyes linger there for too long before moving on to admire the way it hugged her waist and hips, showing off her perfect hour-glass figure. Eventually, he looked up to meet her gaze.
“Hi.” She smiled almost warily. Had something changed?
He hoped not, and not wanting to allow any distance to develop between them, he stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug. He breathed her in as her arms came up around his shoulders. He couldn’t help it. He dropped a kiss on the soft skin in the curve of her neck. “Hi,” he murmured.
Her cheeks were flushed when she stepped back. “Wow. That’s some hello,” she said, her nervousness still lingering.
He held her gaze. “You’re lucky I was so restrained. I’ve counted down the hours from my foolish goodbye until this hello.”
A happy smile touched her lips, but she looked away. “Do you want to come in, or should we get going?”
He stepped toward her and put his hands on her shoulders. “I’d love to come in, but we’d be here all night. We should go. I promised you dinner, and everything’s ready.”
She looked up into his eyes, and the way her lips parted and her breathing slowed, he thought she was going to suggest they stay here. He wouldn’t have argued, but she nodded briefly. “I’ll get my purse.” He wanted to kiss her but instead let her move away from him. This would be their first night together; he wanted it to be at his house—to start as they meant to go on.
~ ~ ~
When he brought the Maserati to a stop in front of his house, Mary Ellen managed to get out before he came around to open the door for her. She straightened her dress and smiled up at him as he took her hand. He was so gorgeous. She wanted to pinch herself. She’d had such a huge crush on him for years, but if anyone had told her even a week ago that he was such a great guy and that she’d be here having dinner with him, she would have laughed.
He led her up the stairs to the front door. The house was beautiful. It looked like a Tuscan manor house. She’d been here before, but then it had just been the setting for his lavish parties. She’d thought of the place the same way she thought of him—handsome but soulless. Now she looked at it differently. It wasn’t just magazine perfect, it was warm and welcoming, just like its owner.
He opened the front door and gestured for her to enter ahead of him. She stopped inside the grand foyer, a sweeping staircase led up to the right, and a huge chandelier hung overhead.
He stood close behind her, sending shivers racing down her spine. “Welcome. Do you like it?”
“I do. It’s a beautiful place.”
“It is beautiful, but more importantly, it’s a good home, too.” He surprised her by dropping a kiss on the top of her head. She turned to look up at him and he smiled. “It’s important to me that you like it. Come through, I need to check on things.”
She followed him through to the kitchen. This was a part of the house she hadn’t seen before. She loved it. It was warm and cozy, better equipped than most restaurant kitchens, she was sure and bigger than her whole apartment, but it felt homey.
He pulled out a stool for her to sit at the island, then disappeared into what she assumed must be the pantry. He came back with two bottles of wine. “One for us, one for the chicken,” he said.
