Deception of the Heart (2 page)

‘All right, ow
n up.’ Jon grinned, his eyes cheerful. ‘Who is it this time?’

‘
Daphne.’ Two syllables managed to wipe away his smile as fast as a stray bullet.

‘Shit,
Bernard, you know I don’t want to go.’ He raked a hand through his hair, frustrated and angry. ‘I don’t know how much clearer I can be on that one. Can’t you tell Mariah it won’t happen and to get over it?’

‘I did,
obviously.’ Bernard sighed, his eyes wary. ‘Still, people make mistakes, Jon. You of all people should know that. Maybe it is time to move on and just let things happen. You won’t know what could be until you risk it; that’s what you always say, right?’

‘Yeah, I say it at work.’ He had to try to be calm
. His inborn sense of fairness prohibited him from venting his frustration on Bernard. It didn’t matter if he was his boss, really. They were friends. Years of working together made it impossible to draw a clear line between their private and professional lives. As a friend, Bernard had never tried to butt into Jon’s life, unless prompted by Mariah, who seemed to take a keen interest in his love life, or rather lack of such.

‘Tell Mariah that I am not interested in getting back together with my ex
-fiancée, all right?’ he added, making an effort to be clear without sounding offensive. ‘You might have another take on what’s forgivable or not, but for me, it is over and has been for the last six years. Isn’t she married anyway?’

‘She’s divorced.’
Bernard wasn’t too happy about his reaction, but as things were, Jon couldn’t care less. Of all people, Bernard should have understood. Didn’t he always say trust was the most important aspect of any relationship?

‘She has been divorced for a few months, Jon.’
The older man sighed, his face troubled. ‘Damn, I don’t like it any more than you do, but I promised Mariah I’d try to bring you in.’

‘Well, tell her that
. unfortunately, I’m busy.’ The conversation was over as far as he was concerned. ‘Tell her I am working on a project for the agency and that I need to practice. Heck, tell her I am falling for another girl, whatever works.’

‘Yeah, as if…’
Bernard conceded, obviously realizing he couldn’t change Jon’s mind. ‘Well, if you change your mind, dinner is at eight. We’ll keep a glass for you anyway, Jon.’

He walk
ed out of the room, only to turn back and look up at the taller man, his eyes shrewd.

‘
For now, try to warm up to the idea of charming Melanie Bennett. I am counting on you on this one. Who knows, maybe you can actually enjoy it?’

She was going to Rome!

Melanie
looked around her apartment. Her eyes glowed with excitement that refused to be dampened by the fact she had to call her mother and endure her complaints about going to Europe on such short notice.

Mrs.
Bennett didn’t care much for her daughter’s job, and this unexpected turn of events would only add fuel to the fire. If she had become a lawyer, just as her parents had hoped her to be, things would be much different. She would have a stable job to settle down to, instead of this nomadic lifestyle that took her first to New York and now to Italy.

Melanie
was just about to pick up the phone and dial when her doorbell rang, bringing her to her feet. She wasn’t expecting anyone really, not tonight.

P
robably a mistake
, she thought as she pressed the intercom, ready to accept an apology. That’s what happened when one lived in a four-story building with twelve tenants. The badly lit plate with names and ringers made it extremely easy to make a mistake. ‘Yes?’

‘
Melanie?’ To her utter surprise, it was Pete’s voice. Her boss appeared to be downstairs. Dazed, she tried to imagine what on earth would bring him to her door. They worked together for the last twelve weeks or so, granted. But never in that time had he tried to see her outside the office, let alone come to her apartment.

‘Come on up
.’ She could say little else, given the fact he was already there. She pressed the entrance button.

He was upstairs in less than half a minute.
A feat in itself
, she thought as he walked to her half-open door. The staircase was rather narrow and awkward to maneuver. Numerous tenants had complained about the badly lit landings and shaky bannister. Still, Pete had conquered it in no time, his springy step and even breathing completely unaffected by his brisk ascent.

‘I hope you don’t mind me
surprising you like that.’ He grinned instead of giving her a proper greeting, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously in his slim, elegant face. ‘I rang your cell a few times, but you never picked up, so I figured I’d surprise you, Melanie. I wanted to talk to you about some things before our trip to Italy.’

‘Shoot, I totally forgot
my phone.’ It all made sense now. Of course she had forgotten her cell in her car, as usual. It wasn’t the first time and certainly wouldn’t be the last one either.

‘No big deal
.’ Pete stepped in and his gaze went over the interior of her small apartment with unnerving accuracy. Somehow she could tell he saw everything in one quick sweep before he looked back at her with a smile.

‘
Would you like something to drink?’ she asked awkwardly, realizing they still stood in the entrance to her living room. Its shoebox size shrank even more with his tall, muscular frame. ‘I’ve got coffee or tea, or if you prefer, some mineral water.’

‘I have a much better idea,
Melanie.’ His golden hair shone metallic in the light of her low-hanging living room lamp. Pete smiled down into her face, making her aware once again he really was a handsome man. With his blond hair and blue-eyed good looks, he made her think of a perfect cross between Robert Redford and Brad Pitt.

‘I thought I might persuade you to go out with me tonight
. If you don’t have other plans, of course.’ Again, there was his charming smile that usually got him wherever he wanted. In the short three months they had worked together, she had witnessed Pete charm enough people to teach her to keep her guard up.
I have had enough of charming men
, she thought bitterly, making an effort to block the memories that still hurt two years later.

‘If I’m imposing, tell me.’ Still perfectly smooth, his features didn’t betray any impatience o
r disapproval of her hesitation. She still couldn’t figure out if he really was so damn polite or the best actor she had ever seen.

Melanie
nodded slowly. ‘No, that’s okay. I was planning on an early evening in, to be honest. I still have to pack for our trip, you know.’

‘
That’s great!’ His enthusiasm made her feel awkward; the familiar sense of panic tightened her chest. He wasn’t planning on hitting on her, was he? So far she was absolutely happy working for him, and she’d hate to find out she had misjudged the man who hired her after an interview that lasted less than half an hour.

‘I know this amazing
restaurant just around the corner,’ Pete continued, his eyes merry. ‘The owner is an old friend of mine, and I can promise you the best tomato sauce you have ever tasted. Plus, their garlic bread is to die for.’

‘That sounds good
,’ she agreed, salivating at the thought of food. She had skipped lunch, too busy cleaning and running errands before their departure the day after tomorrow. Only now, as she listened to Pete, did she feel her stomach tighten painfully. She had to start eating properly, she told herself firmly as she listened to his voice, if only to stop her mother’s constant moaning that she looked more and more like a shadow of her former self.

‘I was
surprised to find out where you live.’ Pete sat on the sofa, his long legs stretched out in front of him in a leisurely gesture. He looked very much at home, she thought, praying none of her friends had the brilliant idea to drop by for a farewell drink. She’d never hear the end of it, of course.

‘
Why?’ She shrugged as she hurried to put down a small bowl with salted nuts and crackers. Hopefully they were still good, she thought, deciding not to look at the expiry date. She hadn’t entertained lately; the few get-togethers she had with her friends usually took place in a bar or a coffee house.

‘Well, I used to live in this neighborhood years ago
.’ She watched him pick up one of the crackers and bite into it, chewing slowly. ‘Before I moved closer to the university, that is. Once you get a job there, you don’t want to commute hours each day, right?’

‘I just moved in a year ago
.’ She wasn’t sure how much small talk should be done before she excused herself to change into something a bit more presentable than her old sweats and a T-shirt that had definitely seem better times. Nice as he was, her boss would certainly not appreciate her looking like a hobo when he took her out. Damn, but she was getting rusty, she scolded herself, as she blabbered on about something insignificant and most probably boring.

She
silently vowed things would change once she was back from Italy. She finally left Pete sitting in her living room and eagerly scoured through the rather modest contents of her wardrobe. When she got back, she’d go out more, meet people, and stop wallowing in her miserable past. Her friends were right: what was done was done. There was only one way to go, and it was forward.

She opted for a simple red dress
. It was sleeveless and the hem skimmed her knees, so she looked decent without being demure. It went well with her long, dark hair and fair skin. She eyed the paleness of her face and neck disapprovingly. She desperately needed some color and could only hope to catch some sun in Italy. The prospect of staying in some sun-drenched hotel under the southern sky held plenty of appeal.

Pete wasn’t lying about the
restaurant owner’s friendliness. The moment they entered the cozy looking little restaurant she must have passed by many times before, the owner intercepted them. His round face beamed with such pleasure she couldn’t help but smile back.

‘
Pietro, good to see you!’ His thick Italian accent sounded right in this little, definitely Mediterranean space called “La Familia.” Melanie delighted in the yellow walls and terracotta floor. Pictures of Italian landscapes decorated every inch of free space. The restaurant pulled her in, making it impossible to think of anything but sun, heat, and the azure blueness of the Mediterranean. Suddenly she was impatient to experience it all firsthand. The hours between now and their booked flight stretched into an impossibly long line of wasted time.

‘You brought such a
bella ragazza
with you?’ Giovanni, as Pete had introduced him, smiled at her slyly, his small, dark eyes full of benevolent mischief. ‘Welcome, welcome!’

There
was no stopping him, she thought, amused, as he ushered them to an intimate round table covered with a snow-white tablecloth. A small vase with a single red carnation graced the little table, the vivid crimson creating a perfect contrast to the stark whiteness of the linen.

‘Very matching,
sì
?’ Giovanni beamed, pointing at the flower and then at Melanie’s dress. ‘Pretty lady and a pretty flower.’

‘And hopefully it will all go with a pretty decent meal
.’ Pete smiled at his friend, his features softened in the light of the chandeliers. ‘I just told Melanie that your pasta is something worth coming for all the way from Manhattan, Gio. You’d better not make me eat my words, right?’

‘Isn’t my name Giovanni?’
Breathing heavily as if he’d had to run a marathon, Giovanni glared at his friend with fake anger, the corners of his full, cherubic mouth quivering with the withheld smile. ‘My pasta is good enough to be served to the Pope.’

He left them then, retreating to the kitchen.
Melanie glanced around, surprised to see the place was so packed. Suddenly it seemed amazing that they managed to get this private little table. Unless Pete had called beforehand, of course.

‘It’s funny how I never noticed
this spot.’ She smiled at the man sitting across from her. ‘I must have walked by it plenty of times.’

‘It is rather small
, and Giovanni doesn’t advertise much.’ Pete shrugged his powerful shoulder, his muscles straining against the thin fabric of his light blue shirt. He was undeniably the best-dressed man she knew, beating not only her ex-boyfriend, but all the men her friends were seeing. Tall, elegant, and carrying himself with the indefinable something that eluded most people, Pete Brunner could have easily posed for a posh, masculine magazine. Instead he wrote articles for some of them, his essays and stories appearing often in the glossy pages of
Esquire
or
Details
.

‘But you know
this place pretty well, it seems.’ She looked up from her leather-bound menu, her eyes teasing. ‘How did you meet Giovanni?’

‘We go way back
.’ Was it her imagination, or did his eyes veil with caution she couldn’t quite understand?
It was an innocent enough question
, she mused, waiting for him to elaborate.