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Thatdidmake sense from a business standpoint but from every other angle it was a disaster in the making. She was trying to stay away from him—she knew she shouldn’t have come over here—and now he was dangling this lovely brown sugar-glazed carrot in front of her.
Bad Girl Jules laughed softly.
Good Girl Jules had nothing.
Forging a path of independence required finding what she needed to do with her life. She loved to cook and Tad was giving her a chance to do it professionally. For money. That felt good.
His hand made fiery circles on her back.
That felt good as well.
She stepped away from that lethal body and all it promised, but she wasn’t going to step away from this opportunity. It was far too good to pass up.
“I can’t guarantee I’d be here every day. Don’t want to take advantage of Frankie and Sylvia.” And she wanted time, no,neededtime, to get a lunch date in every now and again.
“We’ll work something out.” He thrust out his hand.
Showing no hesitation, she took it and tried to ignore the zing that rough, callused palm sent through her. She tried to ignore everything except the rush of empowerment surging through her body.
Good luck with that, Jules.
Eight
Jules bounded up the steps of the DeLucas’ brownstone in Andersonville on Chicago’s north side, feeling light as a fluffy meringue. Just when you thought your feet were in cement, along came a power drill to break you free.
Hmm, was Tad the power drill in that scenario?
She really needed a mind-cleanse to expunge those dirty thoughts from her system and it came in the form of the man emerging from the strong, oak door at the top of the steps: Tony DeLuca, patriarch and father to Lili and Cara, uncle to Tad. Tall, urbane, and imposing, Tony was a man of few words so every time he spoke to her, it felt like a gift.
“Julietta,” he said, leaning in for the Euro double kiss. She loved that. He always made her feel so Continental with his Italianization of her name and the affectionate greetings.
“Hiya, Tony. How’s it going?”
He lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug, more of the Old-World nonchalance that came as natural to him as breathing. Despite his casualness, she knew he wasn’t an easygoing man underneath it all. The high expectations for his family made him tough to be around, but he had never once made her feel less than welcome since the DeLucas took her in two years ago.
“It is time you visited the kitchen again, Julietta. You have much to learn.”
She had been hanging around the DeLuca restaurant kitchen on a semi-regular basis, watching the chefs making homemade pasta and rich, flavorful gravy as they called the marinara that formed the basis of so many of the veteran establishment’s dishes.
“Yes, Yoda. Come to kitchen I will.”
Tony looked his usual stone-faced self. She didn’t believe it for a second. “You young people speak a different language,” he said gravely.
Laughing, she hugged him, gratified when he softened in her arms. Tony might be a hard arse but he could also be a big, soft, teddy bear.
“Go earn the big bucks,” she said to his back as he scooted down the steps on his way to work. Like her brother, he headed into his kingdom by early afternoon to begin prep for the dinner service. No doubt he had been up at the crack of dawn accepting deliveries and his visit home in the middle of the day was to spend a little quality time with his wife, Frankie.
A nooner with his wife. Blimey, even the oldsters were getting more action than she was.
“There’s my little monkey,” Jules said, picking up Evan from the floor of Francesca’s living room as soon as she stepped inside.
“He’s been asking for you all day,” Francesca said.
Over her son’s head, Jules smiled at Francesca, the woman who was the closest thing she had to a mother. When Jules had first showed up in Chicago, Tony and Frankie had taken her in, no questions asked, while she tried to repair her fractured relationship with Jack, who was busy laying siege to their youngest daughter.
“Do you have time to stay and have an espresso with me?” Frankie asked with a smile.
“I always have time to get caffeinated.”
