An Offer He Can't Refuse Page 32
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Our fathers. Their mistakes. They almost ruined us.”
She didn’t know about Johnny, but she didn’t feel “almost” ruined. She was the whole way gone. He had her heart, he had her love, and she was never going to get them back.
While she might free herself from the past, she was never going to free herself from loving Johnny.
I love you, Contessa.
It was her imagination again, pretending she could read his mind. She stumbled back, out of his hands, and put the sofa between them. “I’m leaving now, Johnny.”
“Like hell you are. I love you, Téa. I’m in love with you.”
Her heart fell to the pit of her stomach. “No,” she whispered. “I won’t believe that. We’re enemies.”
“We’re our own worst enemies if we let the past get in the way of what we could have together.”
She put out her hand to steady herself on the sofa back. “This is a trick—”
“No.” Johnny glanced over at the smoldering fire. “Didn’t I just prove that you can trust me, Contessa?”
Oh, God. She stared at the flames as they consumed the Loanshark book and her shameful secrets. Trust him? “But my family, what they did, what they do, no man could—”
“This man could. I can understand who you are and how you feel. I do. Giovanni wasn’t a complete innocent, Téa. But he didn’t leave darkness on my soul either. You were right, I was afraid of that, and afraid that connecting with people would connect me to emotions I didn’t want to feel. But I’m not afraid anymore. His legacy to me is other things. I’m beginning to believe that one of them is you.”
But she couldn’t believe. Because finding Johnny, loving Johnny but not having him, wasn’t that the final yet necessary restitution for her “little” crimes? Wasn’t that part of the bargain she’d made with her conscience and with God?
It made her angry, furious really, but didn’t it have to be that way?
“My father taught me how to take a gamble, Téa,” Johnny said softly. “And I’ve laid myself on the line here. What did your father teach you?”
To be ruthless. To keep good records.
Yes. But he’d taught her more, hadn’t he? He’d taught her that she was the smart sister. No insult to Eve and Joey, but he’d been right about that. So she couldn’t turn away from the one good lesson her father had ever taught her, could she? That the smart princess should always use her brains.
And it was her brains as well as her heart that were telling her, had been telling her from the beginning, whispering, shouting—here’s the one! The one worth risking it all for. The one who she didn’t have to fear would discover her secrets and her shame because he was the one man who could understand them.
The man who loved her. She looked at the Loanshark book, burning in the fire. The man I can trust.
She thought she leaped over the sofa to find her way to Johnny’s arms.
It didn’t matter how, because she was there, in his embrace, feeling his heart pounding against hers. “I trust you, I trust you. I do trust you.”
“Téa,” he said against her mouth. “Be my love. Be my life.”
And oh, she would. She’d be his love, his life, his contessa, his princess, his queen.
Varsity men deserved no less.
They couldn’t get enough of each other. Or close enough. She popped the buttons on his shirt to get to his naked skin. He pulled pins from the updo until her hair swept her shoulders. His chest was bare and his pants unfastened when he pushed her a little away. “How do we get you out of this dress?” he said, his voice rough.
“Right here, right now?” Téa glanced over at the fire. Oh yeah, right here, right now. The gypsy girl was going to dance right here, right now, with the man she loved. Already the violins were singing, their voices rivaling the angels’. She smiled at Johnny. “It’s sort of a peel and eat kind of gown.”
He groaned. “Then show me where to start peeling, Contessa.”
He was very efficient, until he realized what was missing. “No panties?” he croaked out, his hands stilling. “You’re not wearing panties?”
She shrugged. “Where was I going to put them?” she said, as she arranged herself on the rug before the fire.
He dropped down beside her. “I love you,” he said. “Oh God, how I love you.” His body joined with hers.
All playfulness evaporated in the heat of the fire and the heat between them. This wasn’t sex, but lovemaking—life-affirming, love-securing, love the way she’d always dreamed it would be. Téa closed her eyes against the rush of tears that burned in them.
They were tenderly moving against each other when something made her eyelids rise. Johnny’s golden face was above hers, but then her gaze caught on the scene outside the glass windows. A knot of people stood by the pool, apparently transfixed by the sight of them entwined before the fire.
Her fingers tightened on Johnny’s shoulders as embarrassment washed over her. What would people think? What would people think about how this looked? Punctual, proper, puritanically dressed Téa Caruso now naked and doing the wild thing for all to see!
But then she remembered.
She was beautiful.
She was loved.
And she was wicked too, or at least very, very bad, because it occurred to her that in their position, the audience had a clear view of only one person. Johnny. Johnny and his bare naked, quite outstanding butt.
So, assured her own privacy was semi-safe, she smiled to herself.
And drew Johnny’s mouth to hers, closing her eyes to everything but their future.
Epilogue
“More”
Bobby Darin
From Hello Dolly to Goodbye Charlie (1964)
A week after the big birthday bash, two of Salvatore Caruso’s three daughters sat on plush chairs in the elegant spa waiting room at the Kona Kai. Wrapped in luxurious robes, their new pedicures drying, they were lost in thought.
Men were on both their minds, Eve Caruso guessed. Her older sister Téa might be mooning over her Johnny, who was on business in Las Vegas for a few days. Or maybe she was thinking of Beppe Cirigliano. His daughter, Rachele, had stopped by earlier and told them it was definite—her father was cleared of anything more than an accidental involvement in the death of Salvatore.
It was a relief, Eve thought, just as she was probably supposed to feel relieved to finally know, once and for all, what had happened to their dad. So what that she’d always been secretly convinced he was safe and alive in the witness protection program somewhere? It had been a childish fantasy, she saw that now.
“You’re brooding,” Téa suddenly said. “That’s not like you.”
“Brooding?” Eve tried to scoff. “I don’t brood. I’m the party girl, remember?” Palm Springs’s favorite society columnist didn’t have time for gloom, not when the social season was just beginning to swing. Not when her old way of life was slipping like sand through her fingers.
“Where’s your Mercedes?” Téa asked. “In for repairs? That old Hyundai you’re driving looks like it won’t make it to the dry cleaners and back.”
It had made it to the designer consignment shop and then to the spa, just fine. “I sold the Merced,” Eve said, leaning over to pick up a glossy magazine instead of looking into her too-smart sister’s face. She didn’t want the family who had taken her in to know that her pride was one of the few things of value she had left. “I’m going to be getting a new model.” If she ever had the money again.
She flipped a page, staring at the spread of fancy jewels. Too bad she didn’t have any more of those to cash in as well. Damn the CEO she’d been dating and her own stupidity. His lousy stock tip had sucked away every last dollar she had. “Just so you know, I have my condo on the market too.”
“Looking for another upgrade?”
Eve shrugged.
Téa sipped from her glass of ice water and lemon sl
ices. “Maybe Johnny and I should take a look at it. We need to find a bigger place—another house, but until then…”
“The two of you aren’t comfortable at the El Deseo property?” Of course they weren’t. It was where both their fathers had been killed.
“There’s bad memories…and good, but we need to find something that’s just our own.”
Her dour mood lifting, Eve smiled. Something, some secret, had held her sister back for years, but she seemed free of it now. “You know I’m glad for you. I’m so glad you’ve finally let a man into your life.”
“I recommend it.” Téa slid a glance at her. “Anyone capable of stealing your heart, Eve?”
“You know I won’t let that happen.”
“I know you like to tell us that.”
“It’s true.” Eve hoped to God it was true. Since she’d lost everything else, she had to hang onto her heart. “But in my case that doesn’t mean I turn my back on men. They have their uses.” Just don’t count on them for sound financial advice.
Téa gave a sly smile. “I’m beginning to figure that out.”
“Sex, the new antidepressant.”
Her sister shook her head. “You mean love.”
“I do not—”
“You do not what?” Their younger sister Joey walked into the room on her heels, keeping her still-wet toes in the air. Her arms were filled with a stack of magazines.
“Téa’s going gooey on us.” Joey would understand where Eve was coming from. Their little sister had more men friends than any other woman she’d met, but she didn’t romanticize her relationships with them either. They were golf partners or tennis partners or sex partners, but the younger woman didn’t look for anything more than that. “I’m afraid Téa’s going to start dotting her i’s with little hearts.”
Joey made a face. “I thought it was you that did that. Remember? Seventh and eighth grade.”
Eve felt her cheeks grow hot. “You’re thinking of someone else.”
“It was you,” Téa confirmed. “In seventh and eighth grade and then again when you had that crazy infatuation for Nino Farelle.”
She didn’t want to talk about Nino Farelle. She didn’t want to think about him, because that made her remember that she’d caught sight of him far too often lately. After that one beating she’d realized he was the first of her stupid mistakes about men, but she swore now that the CEO whose stock tip had siphoned away her money would be her last. “Well I’ve learned my lesson now,” she said. “We’ll leave the hearts and flowers to Téa, eh, Joe?”
A funny expression crossed her little sister’s face. “Yeah. None of that mushy stuff for you and for me.”
“So what are those magazines?” Téa asked.
A blush was crawling up Joey’s neck now. “Oh, just, uh, some issues I happen to have.”
“Issues of what?”
Their little sister hesitated. Then, with a scowl, she stomped forward and dumped the stack onto the table in front of Téa and Eve. The magazines fanned out. Issue after issue of Bride, Bridal, California Wedding, Down the Aisle, Of Veils and Vows.
Stunned, Eve and Téa shared a glance. Eve found her voice first. “You, our sister, you, Joey Caruso, collect bridal magazines?”
“I don’t collect them. I happen to have them.” Joey crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought they might come in handy for someone and now they are. We need to plan a wedding—Téa’s wedding.” Her gaze moved to their older sister and her scowl deepened. “Thank me, Téa.”
“Thank you, Joe.” The words sounded faint.
Eve snickered. She couldn’t help herself. Joey, straightforward, no-nonsense, unsentimental Joey, was a closet nuptials geek.
Téa started laughing too.
Joey slumped into a third chair, then hid her face behind one of her precious magazines. Her shoulders shook.
It was good to hear them laugh, Eve thought. Despite their father, despite their individual secrets, despite the trouble brewing thanks to their grandfather’s impending retirement, they could still laugh.
She picked up one of the magazines and ran her fingers over the cover model’s frothy veil. Her life was in shambles, but she could put off thinking about it for a while. She glanced over at Téa, and saw that her big sister was already turning pages, her eyes dreamy, her face glowing with happiness. Definitely mooning over her Johnny now.
“We do have a wedding to plan,” Eve said. “Let’s get started.”
About the Author
CHRISTIE RIDGWAY has never lived east of the Pacific Ocean, north of San Francisco, or south of San Diego. To put it simply, she’s a California native who loves to travel but is happy to make the Golden State her home.
She began her writing career in fifth grade when she penned a volume of love stories featuring herself and a teen idol who will probably be thrilled to remain nameless. Later, though, after marrying her college sweetheart, Christie again took up writing romances, this time with imaginary heroes and heroines.
In a house full of males—one terrific husband, two school-age sons, a yellow dog, and tankfuls of fish, reptiles and amphibians—Christie makes her own place (and peace) writing the kinds of stories she loves best.
Christie enjoys hearing from readers. You may write to her at PO Box 3803, La Mesa, CA 91944, or visit her website at www.christieridgway.com.
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Praise
“Ridgway’s smart, peppy style is reminiscent of Jennifer Crusie, but her…heroines stand on their own.”
Publishers weekly
“A sexy, sultry, can’t-resist read.”
New York Times bestselling author Carly Phillips
“Christie Ridgway satisfies like a dry martini on a hot night! An Offer He Can’t Refuse is lusty, funny and filled with characters you won’t forget. Bottoms up!”
New York Times bestselling author Vicki Lewis Thompson
“Ridgway rocks!”
USA Today bestselling author Susan Andersen
“Christie Ridgway is delightful.”
Rita® Award-winning author Rachel Gibson
“Christie Ridgway captures the very best of romance. Sexy, smart, sparkling…”
New York Times bestselling author Christina Dodd
Books by
Christie Ridgway
AN OFFER HE CAN’T REFUSE
THE THRILL OF IT ALL
DO NOT DISTURB
THEN COMES MARRIAGE
FIRST COMES LOVE
THIS PERFECT KISS
WISH YOU WERE HERE
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
AN OFFER HE CAN’T REFUSE. Copyright © 2006 by Christie Ridgway. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © DECEMBER 2006 ISBN: 9780061844836
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