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Chicken. More like Little Miss Do Nothing and though she knew Tad was only teasing, it still stung. Now that her mom was better, Lili should have been back on the life train, next stop grad school. Two years ago, she had plans to blow this popsicle stand and finally transform into that person she had dreamed of as a tortured fat girl. Future Lili would be poised, self-assured, successful. Achieving an acceptable comfort level with her body should have instilled a similar confidence in her mind, but there were always those lingering doubts—about her artistic talent, her self-worth, her place in the world.
Until she got her restaurant back in the black, her place was at DeLuca’s, doing everything in her power to ensure the family’s future. Even if that meant enduring her father’s vise-like grip on the business and her dreams. She sighed. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither was a new life.
Minutes later, Lili spotted a teed off Gina approaching the bar with a bottle of wine in one hand, a corkscrew in the other, and a face that even her extremely patient fiancé might have reservations about. While her cousin shook and gesticulated her way through an explanation to her brother, Tad, Lili ambled over to see how her meddling services might be best employed.
She placed a protective arm around Gina’s shoulders as the girl spluttered, “They shouldn't talk like that to people. I know he's a freaking genius chef, but that wine costs a lot of money. Telling me to toddle off. There’s no need to be rude, you know?”
Lili's hackles rose as she contemplated tearing Jack Kilroy a new one. If that big shot, big mouth with his behemoth restaurants and über-sensitive wine palate thought he could waltz in here and look down his British nose at everyone, he had chosen the wrong night to do it—and the wrong family to mess with. She pivoted quickly, only to bump chest first into the object of her next tongue lashing, doing a wonderful impersonation of a Stonehenge monolith.
He stepped back just as she placed a hand on his chest to... well, to stop him, she supposed. Mercy, if he wasn’t incredibly solid and warm and undeniably male. He was definitely going to hear it. Once her brain unwarped and she could think straight.
She raised her eyes using his shirt buttons as her road map and blinked when she reached his face. He really was the most handsome man she had ever seen in person—movie star gorgeous—and briefly, her resolve wavered. But that shit-eating grin was enough to straighten her spine and snap her back to mountain pose. Yay, yoga.
“The next time you want to act like a card-carrying jackass with one of my staff, you should ask to see the manager.” Her cheeks burned. He opened his mouth (that crooked, sexy mouth) and she put up a hand to stop him.
“You had better be a good tipper, Kilroy, because money's the only way you're getting out of this intact.”
“Lili...” Gina tried to cut in.
Lili waved a hand. She had this.
His feet didn't move, but his upper body leaned in so close she caught the scent of his skin, woodsy and citrus, reminiscent of a Sorrentine lemon grove. New man smell, nothing like it. He combed his fingers through his thick, and more lustrous than it had a right to be, hair.
“I actually came to apologize to Gina. Cara was bang out of order and shouldn't have said what she did.”
Gulp.
So maybe she didn’t have it after all.
She shot a death glare at her cousin who offered a wobbly smile in return.
“I'm sorry. I misunderstood the situation,” Lili muttered before snapping in Italian, “Gina, take another bottle of Brunello to Mr. Kilroy's table. Then it's your turn to check the restrooms.” Her cousin slunk off.
Lili turned back to the Duke of Hunk, who had crossed his arms over that barrel chest, and appeared to be waiting for a more groveling apology than the one she’d just given.
“You’re still here,” she said.
“I am.” He smiled.
She scowled because it was the opposite of smiling, and if she gave him the slightest opening, he would take it as some sort of encouragement.
“You seem tense,” he said, his brazen grin widening.
“I have a lot to do and you’re very distracting.”
“You find me distracting, Lili?”
It was the first time he had said her name—correctly—and it sounded like a devil’s whisper. Her heart pounded like a trip hammer. She choked out a laugh because it was ridiculous to be affected by something so silly as a man saying her name, even when the way he said it was calculated to make pulse rates soar and panties plummet.
“Oh, I don’t, but your siren call seems to have cast a spell on my girls. Maybe you should try to rein in your...” She flapped a hand and accidentally—oops—brushed against his chest. Still solid, and warm, and male. “...Tendencies, so the rest of us can do our jobs.”
“If you can’t control your staff, that’s not my problem. I feel like a tourist attraction over there with all the visits from your girls. Perhaps you should train them better.”
Irritation simmered in her chest. She took great pride in how she ran DeLuca’s and in how her employees behaved, but she reluctantly admitted that the excitement of Jack’s visit might have led to a drop in everyone’s game, including her own.
“There is nothing wrong with how my staff is trained.”
“So, trashing the fish special, arguing about the wine, and practically sitting in customers’ laps is all part of the training program? I’ve suffered through enough cleavage Italiana to last a lifetime.” His eyes gave an indolent dip. “Well, almost enough.”
