A Little Slice of Heaven (8 page)

Doubtful. Too much heat already infused his insides. “No,” he said. “Thanks, anyway.”

As she drew near, his fingers itched to release her hair, to pull that black cloud free and feel the silky softness against his skin. Then he’d kiss her until the world stopped revolving. Given the chance, he’d begin his onslaught at the nape of her long, delectable neck. He’d plant slow, moist kisses, gentle as morning mist, along her sweet flesh. While easing his way from the bottom of her ear to the curved juncture where her shoulder met her throat, he’d pay particular attention to the pulse throbbing beneath that creamy column—

“
Hey, that’s my goddaughter you’re ogling.”

Claudio’s gruff voice jerked him from the sensual vision and tossed him into cerebral reality.

Gianna had already left the dining room. Odd, he’d never noticed. “I wasn’t ogling her, old man.”

His heart wasn’t in the lie, and Claudio obviously knew. The old man’s face creased into thousands of disapproving wrinkles.

“
You hurt her,” he warned in a whisper deadlier than a rattler, “you answer to me.
Capisci
?”

“
Yeah, I
capisci
.”

Kyle shook his head to clear any vestiges of the daydream from his mind. How long since a woman had affected him so deeply? Too long. Even before he’d wound up here, Lana had built a frigid wall of ice between them—a private, personal igloo for two in their bedroom on Central Park West. Which was one of the reasons he’d started this whole mess—to learn the truth. But despite what anyone said, the truth did not set him free. Not in the manner he’d expected.

Damn him for the fool he was! And damn Rory and David for knowing all along how this game would turn out.

Chapter Six

Day Twenty-two. At the end of another exhausting night, Gianna slapped a long white envelope into Kyle’s hands.

“
What’s this?” he asked, turning it over to see his name printed along the outside.

“
Your paycheck.” Apparently she didn’t realize what a momentous occasion she’d engendered because she returned to the kitchen area without waiting for the grand opening.

“
My…?” He ripped the envelope’s flap and pulled out the green strip of paper inside. His eager brain barely registered his name and a dollar amount printed across the top, Gianna’s signature gracing the bottom.

My very first paycheck
. Now what? The only vision that came to mind was the doleful expression on good ol’ Rory’s face when the stiff-backed accountant found a photocopy of this little gem in his office mail. And David! David’s Norse looks would turn a new shade of purple.

By God, he’d won a battle! Things might not have gone the way he’d anticipated when he started, but the end result proved more satisfying than he’d ever dreamed. Even better, Rory and David would owe him something in return for this triumph. He stared at Gianna’s pixie princess face as she washed the dozens of dishes piled in the sink.
And I know exactly what to ask for.
 

“
Which reminds me,” she said, looking up from the soapy mountain. “How’d you like to go shopping tomorrow morning? You need some decent clothing. You can’t keep wearing my brother’s hand-me-downs. We could go to the mall before work.”

“
The mall?” He’d never been to a mall in his life.

“
Mmm-hmm. Brookland Mall is only three miles from here.”

If nothing else, the excursion should prove interesting. “Sure, why not?”

“
Great. The bank there will cash your check so long as you have ID. You have a driver’s license, don’t you?”

“
Of course. I’m homeless, not helpless.”

“
Sorry,” she said, the familiar pretty blush creeping into her cheeks. “What a stupid thing to say.”

“
No harm done.”

Not yet, anyway...

****

The next morning, Gianna approached the apartment door that had once housed her brother and now sheltered her… What
should
she call him? When she introduced him at the wedding, what would she say? “I’d like you to meet Kyle, my…”

What? Her employee? God, no! She’d die of embarrassment if Frank found out she’d brought the hired help. Her escort? No. Her friend? Well, she supposed, friend worked better than any of the others. Still, the description wasn’t a perfect fit. Rather like the clothing he wore these days, the word was too small for the individual. Temporarily shrugging off thoughts of how to identify him, she knocked twice on the door and waited.

“
Just a sec.” Kyle’s voice filtered through the barrier, sounding deeper and sexier, if that were possible.

Following the noisy click of the double locks, the door opened, and Gianna sucked in her breath. A sculpted chest, like hewn golden oak, filled her view. Kyle wore no shirt, just a pair of faded black jeans. They hugged his hips in a manner suitable for the male models on billboards towering fifty feet high in Times Square.

Water droplets trickled from his neck, nesting inside the tight curls of dark hair upon the broad expanse of flesh. Beneath the bare bulb serving as a light in the foyer, the slighter curls on his head, still wet from his morning shower, glistened.

“
Hi.” Amazing she got that one syllable out. Her tongue, dry and woolen as an old ski sweater, had swelled to ten times normal size.

“
Good morning,” he greeted her with a lazy grin. “Come on in. I’ll be ready to go in a minute.”

While she watched his back muscles ripple, he quickly strode down the hall toward the bedroom. Lord, he had more hypnotic motion in his upper body than the tide rolling in to shore.

Hugging herself to ward off the shivers, she stepped inside the apartment. A wave of unfamiliarity flooded her veins. Odd, since she knew this place as wholly as she knew her own home. This apartment came with the lease for the restaurant. How many times had she strolled these carpets, stood in this kitchen? Thousands. First, when her grandparents lived here, and then when her brother, Joey, had moved in. She’d hosted slumber parties in this living room as a child. Some of her happiest memories lived and echoed in the air.

Since Kyle’s arrival, however, the same old walls took on an originality she didn’t recognize, as if conforming to their new occupant. Photos of her family still hung where they always had. But now they looked out of place, encroachers on someone else’s private domain.

“
Do we have time to stop somewhere with a copy machine?” His voice halted her hand just as she’d reached to straighten a vacation photo hanging slightly askance.

While she’d been studying the atmosphere, he’d reentered the living room. The hunter green shadow-stripe shirt he’d donned enhanced the shade of his eyes and complemented his broad shoulders. God, those shoulders belonged on a superhero. Part of her wanted to play Lois Lane to his Superman, to wrap her arms about his waist and let him carry her away. Somehow, she knew his physique would shelter her from all the troubles in her world. Not just today, but every day of her life.

“
Gianna?”

He snapped his fingers near her eyes, and she snapped to reality.

“
Oh, right. A copy machine. I suppose we have time. Why?”

He waved the long green check like a banner. “I want to make a copy of this before we cash it.”

Heart filling with compassion for this devilishly handsome man, she smiled. How sweet! The paycheck obviously meant so much he wanted a copy for posterity.

“
I think that’s a wonderful idea. There’s a card shop near the bank. We’ll stop there to make your copy, and then cash the check.”

He glanced at the clock. “Are you sure we’ll have time?”

“
Mmm-hmm. Claudio and Sal will open today, so we can take a little longer. As long as we’re at
Villa Mare
by eleven-thirty or so, we should be fine.”

“
Great. Then let’s get going.”

He followed her, stopping to lock the apartment door, and then allowed her to lead the way downstairs and outside.

A light mist fell this gray October morning, and she tilted her chin to catch the moisture on her face. Early autumn was her favorite time of year. A sharp chill suffused the crisp air. Red, yellow, and orange leaves scattered over the blacktop parking lot like paints on an artist’s palette.

Gianna reached into her purse and fumbled with her key ring until she found the button to unlock the car’s doors. The moment the click echoed in the empty lot, a firm hand clamped down on her wrist, sending a ribbon of tingles up her arm.

“
If you don’t mind,” Kyle said, “I’ll drive.”

She dropped the keys in his outstretched palm. A typical male attitude. Why did all men have an aversion to sitting in the passenger seat while a woman drove? Especially in
her
car? Maybe the need to drive had something to do with regaining control.

He started the engine with a quick turn of the key, and then fiddled with her radio stations, scanning through bits of noise and talk with rapid-fire flicks of his wrist. Through his machinations, she said nothing. Even when he finally settled on some kind of monotonous chamber music to fill the silence.

No doubt, sitting in the driver’s seat and making simple decisions restored some masculine pride. And Kyle’s pride had taken an awful beating lately. First he’d lost all his money. Then he wound up homeless until he gained employment as a busboy. His humiliation only culminated with the nickname Bethany had bestowed upon him.
Jeeves
.

Gianna wouldn’t admit the thought aloud, knowing the idea would anger him, but she liked the name. Somehow, Jeeves fit the man who walked with long-legged strides, shoulders thrown back, and head held high. As if he’d been born a prince and only played the role of pauper as a temporary measure.

Yes, she liked the name a lot. Almost as much as she liked the man, she thought as she gently rubbed a circle around her wrist where he’d clutched her a moment ago.

****

Brookland Mall sprawled over an acre of prime real estate at the intersection of two major highways. If the location didn’t impress Kyle, the sheer genius of the interior awed his business acumen. Dozens of stores surrounded him, each selling shoddily made, overpriced versions of high-quality merchandise. Ghastly track lighting beamed down on the wares, lending them an artificial glisten meant to last only long enough to purchase and package the items.

With Halloween just around the corner, holiday-related paraphernalia—costumes, smoking cauldrons, mummies in coffins, eerie music, orange and black streamers—decorated windows and festooned entrances. A few stores even had costumed employees. As he peeked through the windows of one establishment, he spotted King Kong ringing up a lady’s purchase while a vampire folded sweaters on a counter.

And the crowds! Every size, shape, age, and background wandered through the atrium, expressions wearing the same vacant stare. He remembered his cousin, Lucinda, once referred to these shoppers as “mall zombies.” Now, he knew what she meant.

Their first stop this morning,
Ha-Cha-Cha Cards and Gifts
, sat next to a fast food restaurant. Even at nine a.m., the smell of old grease permeated the air. A kiosk selling mass-produced hot cinnamon buns twenty yards away enhanced the oily aroma with cloying sweetness. The mingled fumes made Kyle’s stomach dip. To keep his breakfast from rising into his throat, he clutched his abdomen.

On the other hand, Gianna appeared unaffected by the nauseating odor when she gestured with a quick head jerk. “Come on. We’ll make a photocopy here.” She led him to the rear of the store where a copy machine hummed.

A sign overhead indicated the management charged ten cents per page and was not responsible for the copier’s quality.

Gianna dropped a dime into the slot, and Kyle placed his paycheck face down on the glass before closing the lid. With a press of the green “Start” button, a flash of light moved from left to right, and then back again beneath the machine’s cover. Swoosh. The photocopy slid onto the shelf on the right side.

He picked up the grainy facsimile and grinned. A balm of satisfaction soothed his frazzled nerve endings. Rory would squawk like a treed monkey when he opened this little beauty in Monday’s mail.

“
Miss Randazzo!” The high-pitched voices provided the only warning before a swarm of youngsters encircled a startled Gianna.

Kyle found himself on the outside of a midget mob.

“
Hello, my cherubs!” Arms thrown wide, Gianna knelt to give each of the four pint-sized rabble-rousers a hug. “What are you doing here? Where are your parents?”

“
My mom’s in the front with Ashley’s mom.” A gap-toothed little girl jerked her pigtailed head toward the racks of greeting cards. “We’re looking for a card for Miss Donahue. She’s getting married soon.”

A pained look crossed Gianna’s features. By the time Kyle’s gaze traveled from her to the towheads and back again, her furrowed brow had relaxed. She smiled, translating her anxiety into a façade of serenity. “Yes, I know. I’ve been invited to her wedding.”

“
You have?” another little girl asked. “Is that why you’re here? Are you looking for a card for Miss Donahue too?”

“
No, Ashley. I’m here with a friend.” She glanced at Kyle. “Ladies, this is Mr. Hayden.”

“
Hello, Mr. Hayden,” the four singsong voices chorused.

Ashley, the curious one and most likely the leader of the quartet, tilted her head like a quizzical parakeet. “Are you Miss Randazzo’s boyfriend?”

“
No,” he told her. “We’re just friends.”

“
How old are you?” the child asked.

This kid was going to be the next Barbara Walters. “How old are
you
?”