“I’m sorry, cara. You’re a beautiful woman, and I’m extremely attracted to you. But I think this could end up a mess.”
The lightness shriveled and turned dim. Yes, she understood it was a sticky situation, but for the first time she had been willing to take a chance. She must have misjudged the situation. Or their connection. She almost laughed it off, but a strange fear glinted in those eyes and made her pause. He smiled, but she noted his discomfort by the way he shifted in his seat and grabbed his wineglass. Almost as if something held him back from taking her home. Almost as if . . .
The realization shook through her. The pieces of the puzzle slid and locked into place. Pain sliced deep into her core, and she barely managed to get the words out. “It’s Alexa, isn’t it?” she whispered. “You have feelings for her.”
“No! Alexa is my friend, nothing else.”
His denial screamed untruth as he looked away. Her skin flushed, and humiliation made her want to gag and run from the room. No wonder he didn’t want to date her. Her mind wandered over the conversation and found all the remarks he’d dropped along the way regarding Alexa. How wonderful she was. How caring. How smart. He’d even asked how they met, intrigued by her telling of their first encounter on the school bus when they’d gotten into a fight, then became best friends. He’d never been interested in her. This date revolved around gathering information on another woman.
He was in love with Alexa.
She choked back her shame and swore to get out with her pride. “I understand,” she said. Her words were laced with an icy distance. Her fingers didn’t shake as she pushed back her plate and slid out of her chair.
“Maggie, let’s talk about this. Please don’t go with the wrong impression.”
Her chuckle came out a bit brittle. “Don’t be ridiculous, Count. I’m a big girl—I can handle a little rejection. As long as you realize I’ll be keeping an eye on you. Especially around Alexa.”
He gasped, but Maggie saw right through him. “I told you—”
“Bullshit.” She grabbed her Coach purse and slung it over her shoulder. Her eyes narrowed. “See ya, Count.”
He called her name again but she ignored him and left the restaurant.
Maggie turned off the water and grabbed a towel. Even now his rejection hurt, as ridiculous as it sounded. He dragged her to the recurring nightmare of her youth.
Never good enough.
Angry with her thoughts and bad memories, she changed into a pair of jeans, green tank top, and leather sandals. No use going into the past. She controlled her relationships, her sexuality, and her own choices. And she sure as hell would never be sloppy seconds.
Especially not for Michael Conte.
She ran a brush through her damp hair and slicked on a coat of gloss. Then, pushing her disturbing thoughts to the back of her mind, she made her way downstairs to meet her new family.
Maggie stepped out in the back and found everyone gathered around the wrought-iron tables and matching bistro chairs. The alcove was surrounded by a walled garden of vivid blooms—a twist of yellows, bloodreds, and purples all screaming for attention. The sweet scent drifted on the warm breeze and tickled her nostrils. An elaborate fountain with a carved angel trickled water into a pond covered with floating moss. The sun washed over the rough terra-cotta cobblestones. Immediately, Maggie relaxed in the peaceful space. Her fingers itched for her camera in an effort to capture the almost mystical quality of quiet, even when invaded by the loud Italian family chattering at the table.
“Margherita, come join us.” She almost flinched at the sound of the full name, but Michael’s mother made it sound like magic, so she let it go. Rule number one: never criticize the matriarch of the family you just married into.
“Grazie.”
Michael poured her a glass of red wine, then intermingled his fingers with hers and smiled. Her heart hitched, but she smiled back with warmth. His sisters all looked eager to hear all the gory details. Maggie made an executive decision. The faster she spilled the story, the faster they’d move on to Venezia’s wedding.
She sipped her wine. “Would you like to know how we met?”
Michael’s brow shot up with surprise. A clamor of female voices rose in agreement. Maggie hid a smile. This one would be easy.
“My close friend Alexa set us up on a blind date. You see, my best friend is happily married to my brother. When she met Michael at a business dinner, she thought we’d be a perfect match.” Maggie threw a cloying smile at him and caught a warning gleam in his eyes. “The moment we met, he told me I was The One. Usually, I never believe men on the first date, but he courted me and won me over.”
Carina sighed and rested her plump chin in her hands. “That’s so romantic. Almost like Fate.”
“Yes, just like Fate.” Maggie squeezed Michael’s fingers. “We were going to set a wedding date, but when we heard Venezia was also engaged, we decided to elope. I hope you’re not too upset we skipped a full-fledged wedding, but I despise being the center of attention, so we thought this would be best.”
Michael brought her palm up to his mouth and placed a kiss in the center. Her skin tingled. “Si, Maggie is a very private person.”
Michael’s mother’s sharp stare contradicted her frail body. Unease tickled her belly. Anyone who raised four children and led a family business had brilliant instincts, and Maggie made a note to be careful when they were alone together. Knowing there weren’t many things to count on in life, she’d made sure her word was ironclad and never broken. Therefore, the stakes were high for her, too.
“What do you do, Maggie?” Julietta asked. Her long fingers held her wineglass with a delicacy that also belied her serious stare. Maggie remembered she was the head of the business end of La Dolce Famiglia. Polished and refined, Julietta was definitely the rational, down-to-earth sister.
“I’m a photographer. I have a shoot tomorrow in Milan so I’ll be gone most of the day.”
“How wonderful. What do you photograph?” Julietta asked.
“Men. In their underwear.” A silence fell over the table and Maggie shrugged. “It’s designer underwear, of course. I’m shooting Roberto Cavalli tomorrow.”
Venezia burst out laughing. “I love it! Can you get me a discount? Dominick would love a new pair of Cavallis.”
Carina giggled. Mama Conte gave a long-suffering sigh. “Venezia, we do not need to know what Dominick wears under his clothes.” She glowered. “And you should not know, either, until you are married. Capisce?”
“Maggie is a very gifted photographer,” Michael said. “I’m certain she will be broadening her experience, especially with so much to see in Italy.”
Maggie frowned. His almost apologetic statement to his family stung, but she swallowed her outburst with a gulp of Chianti. Just because she didn’t photograph cute puppies and babies did not make her choices less valuable. It was as if he knew that in her gut, she ached for more. Annoyed at her thoughts, she refocused on the conversation.
Venezia chattered as her hands confirmed each statement with dramatic gestures. Maggie pegged her as the emotional drama queen of the family. Still, her chocolate eyes burned bright with fire and enthusiasm, and her lithe body clad in expensive jeans, floral halter top, and Jimmy Choos told her she adored fashion. Michael seemed to disapprove of Venezia’s choice not to work in the family bakery, but her career as an assistant to a well-known stylist seemed to satisfy her creative flair. Maggie couldn’t picture her frosting cupcakes, buying advertising, or doing the bookkeeping.