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“Doesn’t Tad want it?”
“He doesn’t cook.”
That was true. He had come up with the menu at Vivi’s but as owner, he was expected to be out front, turning on that Tad charm for the guests. He knew a lot about food but everyone around him did the cooking, a fact she had never thought all that odd until now.
“But he used to with Vivi,” Frankie answered Jules’s unspoken question. “She and Taddeo were very close. Taddeo would have been a great chef—it was what he wanted—but his father wanted him to go to the university. Become an engineer.”
“An engineer? Tad?” The words sounded alien on her lips. All the times they had talked and he had never let on. Engineers struck her as logical, intellectual, analytical types— not that Tad wasn’t any of these things, but he was emotional and caring as well. Big with it. A profession like that seemed too constricting for his larger than life personality.
“Oh, yes,” Francesca said. “He was taking engineering at the University of Chicago. A full scholarship. Vivi and Raphael were so proud of him and how smart he was. That boy has brains to…” She flapped her hand, searching for the word.
“Burn?” Jules prompted.
“Yes,bruciare.He could have done anything. Been anything.” She downed her espresso in one smooth swallow. “When they died, he dropped out of the university, traveled abroad for a few years.”
Her eyes shone bright, remembering sadness of sometime long past. “On his return, he became the bartender for Tony.”
“He didn’t want to become a chef and take over at DeLuca’s?”
“No, the joy left him the day Vivi and Raphael left this earth.”
The joy left him.An ice cold shiver frosted over her heart. What a strange thing to say about Tad, who radiated good humor and vibrant life.
Frankie visibly regrouped. “Tad was always the sensitive one of all the children. So much compassion and love for everything. Losing his parents was especially hard on him. It hollowed him out, closed him off to possibilities. But he has been better these last couple of years, now that he has found something he enjoys.”
Craftily, she eyed Jules, and the corner of her mouth tugged upward.
“Wine. He enjoys wine.” Jules said, feeling like a bug under a glass. She and Tad enjoyed each other’s company. Obviously so, perhaps. More than once their comfortable laughter had drawn curious looks at DeLuca family lunches, but now Frankie’s all-knowing gaze made Jules squirm. Scooped out her brain a touch, too. The woman was thinking.
That was never good.
Evan stirred in her lap and let out a sound ofFeed me.Saved by the wail. She stood and settled her heavier-by-the-second toddler on her hip.
Frankie closed the cookbook and slid it a couple of inches toward Jules. “Let me know how thetartineturns out.”
Oh, I know your game, lady.
Jules looked down at the package of pages, wishing she knew how to read Italian. Wishing she knew what the hell she was doing.
Nine
Climbing the stairs to Lili’s studio at the Flat Iron Arts Building on Milwaukee Avenue, Tad allowed himself a moment to enjoy the glorious sensation coursing through his body.
Victory.
So he had employed a rather sneaky approach to the situation. That Jules was a great cook he didn’t doubt, and her bruschetta had been pretty damn good. But he’d had no notion to actually employ her until he’d seen that look pass over her face when he took a bite. The glimmer of joy, one he recognized because he used to feel that way when someone ate something he created, had punched him hard. She craved the encouragement, and while everyone loved the living daylights out of her, no one expected her to amount to much outside of being a great mom. Jules was so much more than everyone gave her credit for.
And that’s when the idea came to him.
He was under no illusions that he could keep Jules from swimming in the dating pool completely, but with a job she might take it slower. Dip her toe gently. See how warm it was before submerging completely. Giving her a job cooking would kill several birds stone cold dead—and having her nearby for even a couple of hours a day would keep him sane.
Tad would never forget how scared she had been when she showed up in Chicago almost two years ago. So vulnerable, so alone. Jack was too busy, and Jules was too hurt and proud to ask for his help. It was a watershed moment for them but before they made it over the hump, Tad had been the one who listened. Even after they had reconciled, Tad was still around being her friend.
Her friend.So sometimes a few stray, inappropriate thoughts crossed his mind and stiffened his dick. She was a hot woman and he was a red-blooded American male. And maybe he was in a bit of a funk andmaybeit coincided with a certain scorching kiss his gal pal had surprised him with a while back.
His mind didn’t have far to reach for that particular memory. Eleven months ago, Evan was teething, keeping Jules up all night with his crankiness. Tad had gone over to Jack and Lili’s with Pad See Ew and a bubble tea—he thought it tasted like shit but she loved that stuff—and the relief on her face when she saw him had melted his bones.
“I’m so hot for you right now,” she had said, barely looking at him as she grabbed the brown paper bag from his hand.
