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“But?” he prompted.
“I have responsibilities. If I don’t take care of them, my little boat will capsize. I have too much to do.”
“Name three things that will tank you if they’re not done because you go out to dinner tonight,” he said, confidence oozing from him.
It wasn’t easy arguing with Mr. Perfect. If only his hair was sticking up in the back, or there was dirt on his handsome face or lettuce between his teeth. Anything that would put him on the level of someone like her. But that would never happen. He would always be at the head of the banquet table, and she would be in the corner trying to corral the dust bunnies.
“I’m waiting,” he said. “Three reasons you can’t throw caution to the wind and go with me.”
She had a sneaking suspicion he knew what she would say, and was prepared to bob and weave, and block her at every turn. “Okay. My classes.”
“It’s Saturday. You don’t have a class today.”
“But I’m up to my ears in homework, and Sarah may have plans and need transportation.”
“So do your homework this afternoon and I’ll alert Ma to be on call with the Beamer for Sarah tonight. What’s your third excuse?”
“The health department.”
“What?”
“They’re going to shut this place down if I don’t clean it.”
She squirmed uncomfortably when his black eyes narrowed on her. “You’re reaching with that one. What are you afraid of, Abby? Me?”
“Of course not.” That was only half-true. She was cautious of him, or rather spending time with him that wasn’t work-related.
She understood work, and her place in the scheme of things. He was proposing a Cinderella scenario. Take her to dinner—translation, the ball. Let her have some fun and see how the other half lives. But at midnight the fairy tale would be over. He was right. She was afraid—to see the other side. Afraid of facing life after her matching horses and golden coach turned back into a pumpkin and dust bunnies.
Nick Marchetti was Prince Charming in a business suit. He was handsome, funny, and didn’t have to worry about paying his electric bill if he used too much power during a heat wave. He was so far out of her league, it wasn’t funny. When it was her turn at the plate, she wanted to swing away. She wanted to have fun. She wanted to date. She wanted enough time to nurture a budding relationship.
It wouldn’t be easy to take the first step; so she would wait until her life simplified and she had the time to devote to a man. She had enough scars to convince her that unless she waited for her turn, the romance in her crystal ball was doomed to failure. When she had a clear field, she would give it a try. But what guy could compare favorably to Nick?
All of that wasn’t the worst. What scared her most was that the delicate balance between work and friendship would be somehow altered. After her parents had died, she’d assumed adult responsibilities. She hadn’t known how to handle the legal matters, let alone how or what to do with the house. Nick had stepped in and advised her. Besides her sister, their relationship was the brightest part of her life. Knowing he was there, whether she needed him or not, had gotten her through the rough times. She didn’t want to jeopardize what they had.
“Look, pal, I’m only talking about a couple of hours. An evening. A belated twenty-first-birthday dinner. You would be doing me a favor.”
“Oh, really.” A grin broke through. She loved watching Maneuvering Marchetti in action. And what a stretch! Two and a half years after the fact, how was he going to turn her belated twenty-first birthday celebration to his advantage? “How?”
“Let me count the ways.” He held his hand up and touched his index finger. “Number one—clear my conscience. Number two—make my star employee happy. A happy employee is a productive employee.”
“So this is all about you?”
“Not entirely. You haven’t heard number three yet.”
“Okay. Lay it on me.”
He held up three fingers and wiggled them. “If you don’t lighten up and have a little fun, you’re heading for a midlife crisis of astronomic proportions. As an honorary Marchetti,” he said, pointing at her, “you’re entitled to a free, all-expense-paid dinner where you will be instructed by yours truly in the finer art of celebrating a milestone birthday. While there, you will get a long-overdue lesson in having fun.”
Temptation tugged at Abby and stirred something dormant in her soul. She longed to do something wild, something spontaneous and completely out of character. Her whole body vibrated with excitement. The prospect of plain Abby Ridgeway spending the evening with the fabulous Nick Marchetti was the stuff of fantasy.
Then her cautious, practical nature reared its ugly head and told her to turn him down.
“I don’t know, Nick,” she said, not quite able to listen and obey her sensible side.
“Then consider this—if you say no, I’m planning to throw you over my shoulder and carry you off. I thought you’d learned never to mess with a Marchetti determined to have his way.” He sighed. “Somehow I suspected it would come down to brawn over rational thought.”
Abby found she was leaning toward a yes, and it wasn’t his phony threat of physical force. How could she turn him down? He seemed to want to do this and had taken steps to make it happen, including thinking of Sarah. A girl who said no would have to have her head examined.
“Then in an effort to preserve my dignity, the answer is—okay.” Then she thought of something and said, “What should I wear?”
“A cocktail dress. This is an occasion for dressing up. I have a special place in mind.”
She touched his arm, ignoring the tingle in her fingertips. “Thank you, Nick.”
“No need to thank me. On top of the motivations I listed, there’s one I left out. Ma says I’ve been working too hard and should have some fun. Maybe now she’ll get off my back.”
She met his gaze and gave him a stern look. “You’re lucky to have her.”
“That was a joke. Now I’ll leave you to your responsibilities.” He tapped her nose. “I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty. Be here. Be ready. Be prepared. No excuses.”
Chapter Three
“Oh, Nick—” Words failed Abby.
They had just been seated at a window table in an exclusive restaurant high above the San Fernando Valley, and she looked down at the lights.
“You like it?” he asked.
She smiled at him. “I’d sure hate to be responsible for the electric bill. But yes. It’s wonderful.” She gazed at the sight again. “It takes my breath away.”
“Yeah,” he said.
She darted a glance at him and realized he wasn’t looking outside. He was staring at her. Her breath caught for the second time in thirty seconds, and it had nothing to do with the view and everything to do with the intensity in his gaze. He’d never looked at her like that before.
“Is something the matter?” she asked. “Lipstick on my teeth? Mascara under my eyes? Is the dress wrong?”
He shook his head. “You look just fine,” he answered.
“Then why are you staring at me?”
“It’s just—” He shrugged, a gesture that told her he didn’t have the words. Maneuvering Marchetti always had the words, so this was a noteworthy occasion. Noteworthy good or bad, she wasn’t sure.
“Just what?” she prompted. A personal compliment from her boss bent her rule. But heck, just for the evening she could relax. Couldn’t she?
“You don’t look like this at work,” he finished lamely.
“Does that mean the outfit is okay?” It was the only decent dressy thing she owned. She’d worn the long-sleeved, short-skirted, black, lace-covered sheath to the company Christmas party the year before. Obviously he didn’t remember. She ignored the prick of disappointment. It was better to overlook what you didn’t understand, and couldn’t do anything about even if you did.
Just then the waiter appeared. “Can I get you something from the bar?”
Nick ordered a Scotch. Abby asked for a glass of white wine.
The waiter cleared his throat, looking embarrassed. “Miss, may I see some identification, please?”
Stunned, Abby reached for her small clutch purse, grateful that she’d thought to bring her driver’s license. She handed it over for his examination. Nodding he said, “I’ll bring your drinks right away.”
Abby glanced at Nick who had a cat-who-ate-the-canary expression on his face. “Okay,” she said. “I get it. That’s what you whispered to the maître d’ when we walked in.”
“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”
“Come clean, Nick. You put him up to asking me for ID.”
“If this was really your twenty-first birthday, they would have done it on their own. You don’t look much older than Sarah.”
She wasn’t sure she liked that. “Thanks, I think,” she said ruefully. But his attention to the small detail warmed her heart.
The waiter returned and placed their drinks in front of them, then slipped away while they leisurely looked at the menu. Nick sipped his Scotch, then rested his forearms on the small circular table. “Why don’t you date, Ab?”
Where had that question come from and did she really want to answer it? she wondered.
“How do you know I don’t?” she asked evasively.
“Sarah gives me a regular update on the trials and tribulations of the Ridgeway sisters. She says you might as well be a nun.”
“She’s so boy-crazy.” Abby laughed, shaking her head. “In her opinion, anything less than total preoccupation with the opposite sex means you must be convent bait. But I suppose I was the same way at her age.”
“Sarah says you’re making her wait to go out alone with a guy until she’s sixteen,” he said. “When did you start dating?”
“Sixteen. And then I couldn’t go out alone. It had to be group activities.” She toyed with the stem of her wineglass, turning it so that the pale liquid caught the candlelight. “At the time, I thought my parents were from the Dark Ages. Now I see their wisdom. But times have changed. Kids grow up much faster today. I worry so about Sarah, and I don’t know if she’ll listen to me. I wish my mom and dad were here.”
“Two parents and a united front are definitely the way to go, especially when you’re raising a teenager.”
“Even when the two parents aren’t exactly united,” she said. If the accident hadn’t taken their lives, her parents might have stayed together. If they’d gotten the chance, it was possible they could have worked out their problems. Now Abby would never know. Mostly she’d learned to deal with the guilt of her part in the accident. But every once in a while it snuck up on her.
“What does that mean?” he asked, a puzzled frown creasing his forehead.
She shrugged. “Nothing. I love my sister. I want her to have all the advantages I didn’t. I’ll do my best to take care of her all by myself.”
“Like I said before—you’ve got me, pal. Dial M for Marchetti and I’m there.” He grinned. “I’ll help you keep Sarah in line. But you changed the subject. Why don’t you date?”
“No time.” She fiddled with the small cocktail napkin beneath her glass. “I had too much to do after Mom and Dad died.”
“You never went out?” The shock on his face was almost comical. “But you were only eighteen.”
“I tried a couple of times. But it didn’t work. Too complicated.” She looked out the window, searching for a way to change the subject. “I’d like to discuss this plan I have for the restaurant—”
“Hold it.” He held up one finger for silence. “Didn’t I explain tonight’s rules?” When she shook her head, he continued. “Then let me do it now. We are friends out for the evening to have fun. There will be no discussion of work. Period.” He sipped his drink. “Now, tell me how dating was complicated.”
She thought back, dredging up the memories. The problem with dredging was that you brought up a lot of stuff better left stuck in the muck. Like the pain. But she knew there was no point in putting Nick off. When he wanted something, he was like a dog who wouldn’t let go of his favorite bone.
She’d best get it over with. “First of all, I needed a free period of time that coincided with my date’s.”
“What else?”
“I had to find someone to watch Sarah and be able to afford to pay them.”
“Okay.” There was no emotion in his voice, but he was frowning thoughtfully as if this was a newsflash to him. “I have a feeling there’s more.”
“I was working, going to school and taking care of my sister. She demanded a lot of time back then. It was pretty traumatic, losing both parents at once.”
“I can only imagine.” He reached across the table and rested his hand over hers. Wrapping his strong fingers around her own, he brushed a delicate caress across her palm, then squeezed reassuringly.
She wanted to lose herself in the warmth of that tingle-evoking touch, but warned herself not to go there. He could tell himself from now till next Tuesday that they were buddies out on the town. But she couldn’t—wouldn’t—forget that he was head honcho of the corporation she worked for. And it wasn’t her job she worried about. Nick wouldn’t fire her unless she turned into a psycho-stalking embezzler, who couldn’t assistant-manage her way out of a paper bag. She worried that their relationship would change. Until she could spare the time, there was no point in investing energy in anything that even remotely smacked of fascination, flirtation or infatuation.
In spite of her fears, she couldn’t bring herself to move her hand away. This was one isolated night that teetered on the edge of magical. It was unlikely that she would ever do this again. What could it hurt to let him hold her hand?
“Sarah got hysterical if she lost sight of me,” she continued, relaxing a bit. “There just never seemed a perfect time to go out. The few guys who had the courage to ask me eventually got tired of waiting for me to line my ducks up in a perfect row long enough for a fast-food dinner and a movie.” She smiled brightly, hoping it camouflaged the pain. “Finally, they just gave up on me.”
Time had passed, but apparently not enough. The memory still hurt. The shock of losing her parents. The loneliness when her friends stopped calling because she never had time for them. Working at the restaurant. Waiting tables for dating couples, young people in love. Knowing it couldn’t happen for her.
Abby had made up her mind to put romance on a back burner until Sarah was in college. That hadn’t happened yet.
Her tingles grew tingles when Nick gently squeezed her fingers again. “The best things in life are worth waiting for, Ab. Those guys were young and stupid.”
Either his touch, or her few sips of wine had made her far too warm. She eased her fingers out of his hold and folded her hands, resting them on the table. “Were you ever young and stupid, Nick?”
His dark, unreadable expression clicked on. “Isn’t everyone?” he asked.
Answering a question with a question always piqued her curiosity. “I don’t believe you ever made a mistake in your life.”
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