Breathless In Love
Page 14
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“I know you’re not looking for anyone to give you credit, but you’ve obviously done an amazing job taking care of your brother.” He glanced at her, and she was surprised to see admiration in his expression. “Especially when you’re so young. And with all his special needs, not many people could handle that.”
But she didn’t feel particularly young. She’d grown up fast after Jeremy’s accident. “He’s got school and a job at the local grocery store. So he keeps pretty busy without me, actually.” And she felt guilty letting Will think she’d taken miraculous care of Jeremy on her own. “The truth is that I couldn’t have managed without the trust.”
“Trust?”
She’d already told him too much in his garage. But he was obviously quite good at realizing when there was more—and at getting her to share it. “The father of the teenager who hit Jeremy set up a fund.”
Will was silent a long moment before saying, “I wanted to ask you before, did the kid go to prison?”
“No one saw anything. And my parents had to take the money because they couldn’t pay for everything that Jeremy needed.” Though she knew it might sound defensive, she couldn’t stop herself from adding, “My parents did what they had to do.”
Will took his hand off the stick shift and placed it over hers for a moment. One that was too brief before he had to change gears again, but long enough for her to be seared by his heat—and touched by his obvious compassion.
“Of course your parents did what anyone would have done in their position.”
It meant a lot to her that he didn’t seem to be judging either her or her parents for using the trust to take care of Jeremy. Still, she felt as though she’d told him pretty much everything about herself at this point. Now she wanted to know his story. Because even if this was just one night away from real life, she couldn’t help but want to know where he’d come from and how he’d gotten here.
“Tell me about you, Will.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw right before he gave her a crooked smile. “My life is already out there on the Internet.”
But all the Internet said was that he was a self-made man from Chicago who’d dated several gorgeous models and actresses. She also knew that he was part of a consortium called The Maverick Group, whose members were all self-made men like him.
Everything else about Will Franconi—the man, not the billionaire—was a mystery. One that she couldn’t help but want to solve.
And yet, at the same time, she knew she shouldn’t let herself get invested in him. They weren’t going to fall madly in love, get married, and live happily ever after—it was just a drive and dinner, after all. Not the first night of the rest of their lives together.
As if by design, before she could ask anything more, he pulled into a parking lot and said, “We’re here.”
She was pleased to see that the restaurant looked homey, a place she’d be comfortable in, rather than a flashy see-and-be-seen kind of place. The small yard of the yellow Victorian house with a wraparound porch and dormer windows was filled with flowering bushes and a carved wood sign that read Ristorante Cannelli.
Will got out, but Harper didn’t wait for him to come around and open her door. Not that she minded men holding doors for her, but it seemed odd to sit there waiting for it. Seeing that she’d taken care of herself, he retrieved something from the backseat, then offered her his arm like a gentleman as they crossed the gravel lot.
Had he learned his manners from his mother? Or maybe he’d modeled them after his father? Yet again, she found herself wanting to know the answers despite herself.
“Mama Cannelli makes a duck ravioli to die for.” He kissed his fingers in a very Italian gesture.
A young hostess greeted them as they entered. She was obviously of Italian descent, with long dark hair, dark eyes, and a full hourglass figure. “Mr. Franconi, Mama will be so happy to see you. We’ve held your special table.”
“Thank you, Katerina.” Harper shouldn’t have cared that he didn’t react to the other woman’s beauty. But she couldn’t help but be pleased that he only seemed to have eyes for her tonight. “Please tell Mama Cannelli I have a surprise for her.” Will held up the tin he’d taken from the backseat.
The house hadn’t been gutted to make a large dining room. Instead, tables with red-checked cloths had been set up in each of the rooms, the formal dining room to the left and the front parlor to the right. A big picture mirror over the fireplace reflected the patrons. Candles in glass jars and small pots of flowers gave the room a homey touch. Harper wasn’t overdressed nor was Will underdressed.
It wasn’t what she’d expected at all. No show, no flash. No private jets or hot air balloons.
And she loved it.
She also loved the tang of tomato sauce, garlic, and spices that trailed behind them as Katerina led the way upstairs and along the landing. Will’s special table was by the window overlooking a back garden awash in azaleas and hydrangeas.
Katerina laid down the menus as Will pulled out Harper’s chair. “Your usual drink, Mr. Franconi?”
“Please.”
“And for the lady?”
“A Riesling would be lovely if you have it.”
The girl left, and Will set the tin on the table as he sat. Harper could see only the back label, the print too small to read.
“This place looks fabulous.” Harper expected that they’d be fawned over, the center of attention. But Will was treated just like any other diner in the room.
But she didn’t feel particularly young. She’d grown up fast after Jeremy’s accident. “He’s got school and a job at the local grocery store. So he keeps pretty busy without me, actually.” And she felt guilty letting Will think she’d taken miraculous care of Jeremy on her own. “The truth is that I couldn’t have managed without the trust.”
“Trust?”
She’d already told him too much in his garage. But he was obviously quite good at realizing when there was more—and at getting her to share it. “The father of the teenager who hit Jeremy set up a fund.”
Will was silent a long moment before saying, “I wanted to ask you before, did the kid go to prison?”
“No one saw anything. And my parents had to take the money because they couldn’t pay for everything that Jeremy needed.” Though she knew it might sound defensive, she couldn’t stop herself from adding, “My parents did what they had to do.”
Will took his hand off the stick shift and placed it over hers for a moment. One that was too brief before he had to change gears again, but long enough for her to be seared by his heat—and touched by his obvious compassion.
“Of course your parents did what anyone would have done in their position.”
It meant a lot to her that he didn’t seem to be judging either her or her parents for using the trust to take care of Jeremy. Still, she felt as though she’d told him pretty much everything about herself at this point. Now she wanted to know his story. Because even if this was just one night away from real life, she couldn’t help but want to know where he’d come from and how he’d gotten here.
“Tell me about you, Will.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw right before he gave her a crooked smile. “My life is already out there on the Internet.”
But all the Internet said was that he was a self-made man from Chicago who’d dated several gorgeous models and actresses. She also knew that he was part of a consortium called The Maverick Group, whose members were all self-made men like him.
Everything else about Will Franconi—the man, not the billionaire—was a mystery. One that she couldn’t help but want to solve.
And yet, at the same time, she knew she shouldn’t let herself get invested in him. They weren’t going to fall madly in love, get married, and live happily ever after—it was just a drive and dinner, after all. Not the first night of the rest of their lives together.
As if by design, before she could ask anything more, he pulled into a parking lot and said, “We’re here.”
She was pleased to see that the restaurant looked homey, a place she’d be comfortable in, rather than a flashy see-and-be-seen kind of place. The small yard of the yellow Victorian house with a wraparound porch and dormer windows was filled with flowering bushes and a carved wood sign that read Ristorante Cannelli.
Will got out, but Harper didn’t wait for him to come around and open her door. Not that she minded men holding doors for her, but it seemed odd to sit there waiting for it. Seeing that she’d taken care of herself, he retrieved something from the backseat, then offered her his arm like a gentleman as they crossed the gravel lot.
Had he learned his manners from his mother? Or maybe he’d modeled them after his father? Yet again, she found herself wanting to know the answers despite herself.
“Mama Cannelli makes a duck ravioli to die for.” He kissed his fingers in a very Italian gesture.
A young hostess greeted them as they entered. She was obviously of Italian descent, with long dark hair, dark eyes, and a full hourglass figure. “Mr. Franconi, Mama will be so happy to see you. We’ve held your special table.”
“Thank you, Katerina.” Harper shouldn’t have cared that he didn’t react to the other woman’s beauty. But she couldn’t help but be pleased that he only seemed to have eyes for her tonight. “Please tell Mama Cannelli I have a surprise for her.” Will held up the tin he’d taken from the backseat.
The house hadn’t been gutted to make a large dining room. Instead, tables with red-checked cloths had been set up in each of the rooms, the formal dining room to the left and the front parlor to the right. A big picture mirror over the fireplace reflected the patrons. Candles in glass jars and small pots of flowers gave the room a homey touch. Harper wasn’t overdressed nor was Will underdressed.
It wasn’t what she’d expected at all. No show, no flash. No private jets or hot air balloons.
And she loved it.
She also loved the tang of tomato sauce, garlic, and spices that trailed behind them as Katerina led the way upstairs and along the landing. Will’s special table was by the window overlooking a back garden awash in azaleas and hydrangeas.
Katerina laid down the menus as Will pulled out Harper’s chair. “Your usual drink, Mr. Franconi?”
“Please.”
“And for the lady?”
“A Riesling would be lovely if you have it.”
The girl left, and Will set the tin on the table as he sat. Harper could see only the back label, the print too small to read.
“This place looks fabulous.” Harper expected that they’d be fawned over, the center of attention. But Will was treated just like any other diner in the room.
