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“Then think outside the box. Do something unexpected to earn his trust.”
Stroking his chin, he furrowed his brow and cocked his head to the right as if the answer he was looking for was written on the beige walls. “Like what?”
“The possibilities are endless. You live in the most exciting city in the world.”
“Endless, huh? Enlighten me.”
“Take him on a helicopter tour, spend the day wine tasting in Napa Valley, or invite him to your home for a traditional Italian meal with all the fixings.” Jordana picked up her glass and tasted her strawberry lemonade. “Don’t mention your business deal, though. Be a great host, and get to know him as a person, no strings attached.”
“That’s brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that?”
Jordana beamed, felt proud as Dante showered her with praise and compliments. Encouraged, she offered more suggestions, and giggled when Dante reached across the table, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her on each cheek. It was all for show, to make her laugh, and she did. His cologne mingled with the aromas in the air, washed over her like a gentle mist, tickling and teasing her senses.
“How is your mom feeling? ”
Jordana started to speak, but slammed her mouth shut before the truth spilled out. They were friends, sure, but she didn’t feel comfortable opening up to Dante about her personal problems. Her family was a mess, had been for years, and she didn’t know how to fix things, so why bother baring her soul? Still, her inner voice implored her to confide in him, to seek his advice, so she swallowed her pride and asked the question dominating her thoughts. “Hey, you’re a real estate guy,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Any tips on how to stop a home foreclosure? My mom got a letter from the bank today, and she’s freaking out.”
He moved closer and draped an arm around the back of her chair. “Jordana, what’s going on, and why didn’t you tell me your mom was having financial troubles?”
His tone irked her, grated on her nerves. He looked pissed, as if she’d personally offended him, but Jordana kept her cool. Thanks to Dante, she was out for lunch, instead of stuck in her cubicle, contemplating how to fake her own death, and that was reason enough not to get mad at him for yelling at her. “Why are you mad?”
“Because we’re friends. If you need something you should come to me first.”
His words troubled her, made her feel guilty for letting him down, which was an odd reaction considering they weren’t lovers.
“Start from the beginning, and tell me everything.”
Jordana did, but it wasn’t enough. He questioned her about the house, the balance of the mortgage, the payment history and even her mother’s credit score. Opening up to Dante was therapeutic. She told him things she’d never shared with anyone, not even her girlfriends. “My mom’s had financial problems for as long as I can remember, but I didn’t realize how dire things were until she called me this morning in tears.” Jordana stared at her hands, twisted and turned her fingers. “My parents were never legally married, so my mom raised me and my brothers without much help from my dad.”
“It must have been hard for her to raise three children on her own.”
“That’s the understatement of the year.” It was hell, but Jordana kept the truth to herself. Dante didn’t need to know about the month they were homeless, the nights she went to bed hungry, or their weekly visits to the food bank. No one did. It was embarrassing, something Jordana never talked about, and just thinking about her childhood made her heart ache with pain.
“How did your mom manage?” His smile and his tone were sympathetic. “Housekeepers don’t make much, and kids are expensive.”
“She did what any good mom would do. She worked hard, sacrificed and put the needs of her children above her own.”
Reaching inside his jacket pocket, he took out a leather-bound checkbook and a gold pen speckled with diamonds. “How much do you need?”
“Dante, I can’t take your money.”
“I thought you wanted to save your mom’s house?”
“I do, but I want to do it my way, with my resources.”
“But we’re friends,” he argued, anger evident in his curt tone. “Why is it so hard for you to accept my help?”
Because the last time I put my faith in someone I got burned, and I won’t be fooled again.
“You can pay me back when it’s convenient for you,” he continued. “No pressure.”
“I appreciate the offer, but no, thanks. If you have any other suggestions that don’t require me owing you thousands of dollars for the rest of my life I’m all ears.”
The waitress arrived, carrying a wooden tray, and set it down on the table. She unloaded the entrées, her eyes glued to Dante’s face. She stared at him with longing, and made no attempt to hide her desire. “I hope you enjoy your meal, Mr. Morretti, and if you need anything just let me know.”
Dante gave a polite nod, then picked up his napkin and draped it across his lap.
Beaming, the waitress left, swishing her hips as she sashayed through the dining room.
“She knows your name,” Jordana said, smirking. “You must eat here a lot.”
“This is my first time here.” Dante picked up his utensils and forked a baby potato into his mouth. He chewed slowly, as if savoring the taste, then shrugged a shoulder. “She probably saw the feature in LA Business magazine, and figured she’d get a huge tip if she’s extra nice.”
“Then she thought wrong, because it’s my treat and I’m not a Morretti millionaire!”
His frown returned, and Jordana wondered what she’d done wrong this time.
“Your treat? No way. You’re not paying the bill. Not today, not ever.”
“Dante, it’s not the fifteen hundreds.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I work, too, so you don’t have to pick up the tab every time we go out—”
“Yes, I do.”
“Why?” she demanded, annoyed that he was arguing with her about something so trivial.
A devilish grin claimed his mouth, making him look sexier than a cover model. His stare was as blinding as the sun. “Because I’m a perfect gentleman.”
“Ha!” she quipped, with an exaggerated laugh. “No you’re not. A perfect gentleman would never insult my cooking, so you must be an imposter.”
Dante chuckled, and Jordana did, too, enjoying the lighthearted moment with him.
“I won’t be an aspiring actress forever, you know. One day I’m going to be a world-famous movie star and you’re going to regret the way you treated me.”
“Stop calling yourself an aspiring actress.” His voice was stern. “You’re an actress. Period. You’ve been in dozens of commercials, and actively pursuing your dreams for years...”
Enthralled by the sound of his voice, she forgot about lunch, and soaked up every word that came out of his broad, sensuous mouth. Her arugula salad was dry and drowning in honey dressing, but Jordana was having such a good time with Dante she didn’t complain when the waitress returned to check up on them.
“Moving to LA to follow your dreams takes guts and determination. Don’t beat yourself up because you’re not a household name yet.”
“That’s what Waverly said. It took her sister five years to find an agent, and another three years before she landed a movie role. But I hope it doesn’t take that long for me because I’m starting to lose hope in the process.”
“Don’t.” His tone was firm, convincing. “Be positive. You’ll make it.”
“Seriously, Dante? You really think so?”
“Absolutely. There isn’t a doubt in my mind. You have star written all over you, and it’s just a matter of time before you’re discovered, and Hollywood comes calling.”
Jordana wished she shared his confidence, but after countless auditions and rejections, her future seemed more uncertain than ever.
Dante’s cell phone beeped. He put down his fork, picked up his iPhone and swiped a finger across the screen. “This will only take a minute.”
Jordana finished her food, and then excused herself to use the ladies’ room. Returning minutes later, she was surprised to find Dante still typing away on his phone. Sitting down, she stared at him, hoping he’d put the device away, but no luck. “Did you come here to have lunch with me or play on your cell?”
He glanced up from his phone. “Sorry, but Lourdes is being a pain in the ass, and if I don’t put my foot down she’ll think it’s okay to inconvenience me whenever the mood strikes.”
“Dante, don’t do that.”
Wrinkles furrowed his eyebrows. “Don’t do what?”
“Disrespect your ex-wife. She’s the mother of your child, and bashing her isn’t cool,” she said, noting the scowl on his lips. “What’s wrong? Why are you guys fighting?”
“She wants me to pick up Matteo tonight, instead of tomorrow morning.”
“Why is that a problem? Do you have plans after work?”
“No, but that’s not the point. It’s the principle. I don’t change the schedule at the last minute, and neither should she.”
Jordana shrugged. “Life happens. Things change. And considering you only see Matteo once a week you should be thrilled to spend some extra time with him.”
Dante winced, and then shook his head. “I hate when you do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make me feel like an ass.”
“Don’t thank me,” she joked, winking. “It was easy!”
Dante threw his napkin at her, calling her a no-good know-it-all, and Jordana laughed.
“I better get back to the sweatshop before my boss reams me out for being late.”
“Tell Mr. Lundqvist lunch was a rousing success, and that you secured a sizable donation for Saint Jude’s Hospital. Tell him the check will arrive early next week.”
“Thanks, Dante. Your donation, whether big or small, will help change lives.”
He opened his wallet, took out a crisp hundred-dollar bill and dropped it on the table. Jordana wanted to argue, to remind him lunch was her treat, but he sent her a chilling look, one that caused the baby-fine hairs on the back of her neck to stand up.
“FYI, there’s nothing more emasculating to a man than seeing a woman reach into her purse and pull out her wallet, so don’t even think about it.”
Dante strode around the table, pulled out Jordana’s chair and helped her to her feet. Feeling his hand on her hips shouldn’t have excited her but it did. His woodsy, musky cologne went straight to her head, causing her skin to tingle and her legs to wobble. Strong, take-charge types had always been her weakness, and Dante knew how to treat a woman right.
He should, said her inner voice. He’s probably had more lovers than a British boy band!
“I’ll walk you back to work.”
“Do I have a choice?”
His eyes narrowed, and Jordana knew she didn’t. Walking back to LA Marketing Enterprises, she told him about activities happening around the city that weekend. The Cinco de Mayo parade scheduled for next Friday, and kids movies showing at the IMAX theater.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you. You always have great ideas for things to do with Matteo.” Staring down at her, he flashed a broad, devilish grin. “You’re a keeper, Jordana. If I’m still single at fifty, I’m going to marry you.”
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