…

He wasn’t happy.

Miranda threw back her head and laughed at something the bartender said. A rush of possessiveness settled over him, and his hands clenched around the china as he fought the urge to howl and drag her away. He knew Dominick was happily married, but it didn’t stop the man’s gaze from roaming appreciatively over her body. And he seemed to lean in a bit too close when he spoke.

“No, I asked for the chicken Parmesan,” Gavin’s customer told him as he set the plate down.

“I’m sorry, my mistake.” He shook his head to clear it and switched the plates to their correct positions. “Can I get you another glass of wine?”

“No, thanks, Gavin. How about some more bread?”

He nodded. “I’ll be right back, Mr. Diamonte.”

Gavin muttered a curse as he hurried back to the kitchen. He’d invited her out for a romantic evening and ended up taking over the role of waiter. He was going to kill Brando. His half-hour break now stretched to over an hour. Probably making out with Tracey in the car, and God knows that could take forever. Gavin glanced once more to his date, but she seemed perfectly at ease with Dominick’s company. And Antonio’s. And Pop’s. Hell, even the singer he hired stopped to introduce himself and chat. Everyone seemed to get a chance to enjoy her company except him.

The smell of smoke made him turn left. He stopped at the corner table where Pop and his Sinatra crew played cards, drank wine, and snuck cigarettes. When had he become the straight one in the family? “Pop, what are you doing?”

His father waved him off. “Cosmo isn’t hurting anyone by having a quick smoke.”

Gavin crossed his arms over his chest and gave him his best hard ass stare. The other members of the group ignored him and concentrated on their hand. Cosmo was second in charge, evident in his appearance. A thick gray mustache set off a face that would make any gangster proud, but he’d gone bald years ago. His thick black glasses hid a sharp gaze that had run a successful place in Little Italy, before he gave it up to his two sons and hung out with his posse across town.

“Cigarettes kill you. Gives you cancer, stroke, and heart attack. Is that what you all want?”

Cosmo snorted in a cloud of smoke. “Sinatra smoked every day of his life and made it into his nineties. This world has become too soft.”

The third member of the group, Vinnie, nodded. Instead of wine, his fingers clasped the tiny shot glasses of Grappa. Gavin always wondered how the man walked straight. The grainy Italian liquor was hard-core, and he drank it all night long without even a slight buzz marring his poker game. Vinnie sported the old-fashioned white button-down shirt, slacks, and sports jacket. Old school about his appearance, he always showed up dressed like he was going out on a hot date rather than getting drunk at the bar with his friends.

Vinnie hummed the first bar of a song. Pop jumped in. “Don’t Worry About Me,” he boomed.

Cosmo cursed. “I shoulda had that one.”

Gavin blew out a breath. Didn’t they ever talk in anything but Sinatra code? “Fine, if I won’t change your mind by threats of death, how about jail? You’re breaking the law. No smoking inside of restaurants. Put it out, Cosmo.”

The thick gold ring around his finger gleamed in the light. He muttered something in Italian and stubbed out the cigarette. “Ridiculous. You’re gonna ruin my game.”

Pop glared at him.

He confiscated the ashtray and the lighters. “No more smoking.”

Cosmo glanced at his hand and threw in two more chips. “Luck Be A Lady Tonight, gentlemen.”

The men grumbled and went back to their game.

Gavin smothered a laugh and left. He dropped off a basket of bread and checked Antonio’s progress in the kitchen. His chef shook his head in disgust when he entered. “You are screwing up again, Gavin.”

“I’m trying to keep the evening running smoothly. Who would’ve thought Pop hung out with the bad crowd?”

“You will lose your lady. You haven’t even danced with her tonight, and you leave her in the company of Dominick for entertainment.”

“He’s married with kids.”

Antonio sighed. “He cheats on his wife. This I know for a fact.”

Gavin paused for a beat, then ripped off his apron. “When Brando gets here, tell him to set up cappuccino for table five. I’m taking a break.”

He strode to the bar and took a seat next to her. She tapped the edge of her glass with one cherry red fingernail as she listened to Dominick amuse her with stories about the business. Gavin casually reached under the bar and slid one hand to the top of her thigh, stopping at the hem of her short black dress. Her quick indrawn breath danced in his ears.

Dominick seemed to sense her distraction and paused. “Hey, Gavin, how are you? Just keeping this lovely lady company while you take care of business.”

Gavin smiled. “How’s Deborah doing? And the kids, of course.”

Color stained the man’s cheeks. “Uh, fine, just fine. Be right back.” He flew to the end of the bar and left them alone.

Miranda glanced at him from under lowered lashes. “Were you trying to prove a point?”

His fingers glided over her silk-clad legs, and her sleek muscles flexed under his touch. He grew to rock hard status and shifted uncomfortably as he imagined stripping off that dress and getting her naked and ready. Damn, she was beautiful. Classy. Sexy. It’d be a miracle if he got through the evening without taking her in the stockroom. Instead, he focused on conversation. “I just asked about his family. You knew he had a family, right?”

She emitted a throaty gasp when his hand dipped under the sensitive flesh behind her knee. “The subject never came up, but I did notice the wedding ring. You didn’t have to play the role of possessive caveman, you know. What are you doing?”

“Touching you.” He gritted his teeth as the wave of lust hit him hard. “I’m frustrated. I’ve been watching you all night, smiling and laughing with other men, and all I want to do is hold you in my arms. Strip off that little black dress. Kiss you, make you moan, drive inside you over and over—”

“Gavin!” Her lower lip trembled. “Don’t say those things. And no—no touching.”

He reluctantly let his fingers drop from the path of Eden. “Why?”

“Because. You’re not getting me into bed tonight just because you invited me out once. Plus, we’re in a public place.”

He shot her a grin. “Never stopped us before.”

Sexual tension squeezed between them. A flash of recognition crossed her face. Gavin remembered the times they met for lunch, and ended up racing to the nearest taxicab to get home. The hands under the table. The whispers behind menus. And of course, the time in the unisex bathroom…

“We’re in your parents’ restaurant.” She reached for her wine glass. “I’m not like that anymore. I was more impulsive, and now I’m interested in sophisticated conversation. Friendship. Dependability.”

He chuckled. “All that stuff is good, baby, but if the chemistry isn’t right, you’ll end up with a nice friend who happens to be in bed with you. For the rest of your life.”

“If you settle for just sex, you won’t have anyone waking up with you in the morning. Six weeks and he’ll be running for the door.”

Gavin laughed. “Nice hit.” He stroked her hair, then ran a finger down her cheek. She shuddered. “That’s why we’re going to have both.”

Her pupils dilated. If he pushed hard, she’d buckle. But he didn’t want to win her body. He craved more. His past actions stripped away her confidence in him, and he longed to heal the wounds. Gavin wanted her to feel safe in his arms again. Words wouldn’t convince her. Sex wouldn’t, either. Just time, though he didn’t have much left.

The calls were beginning. The company wanted him back sooner, and though his official leave gave him eight more weeks, the pressure was on for him to take over an important foreign deal. The younger associate didn’t have the skills, and MacKenzie & Associates were afraid of a screw up. They needed a closer.

Him.

He pushed away the thought and concentrated on the present. How long had he lived by the creed of bigger, better, and now? Never able to enjoy his success in the moment, and never satisfied for long. His time in India clarified what he needed to do. Slow down. Focus. Savor. And be grateful for all.

Starting with Miranda.

“Will you dance with me?” His voice came out hoarse. Crap, he felt like he was at prom with sweaty palms, hoping not to get shot down. “For a little while I want to hold you and close my eyes. Pretend I hadn’t fucked up. Pretend you belong to me again.”

Her startled gaze studied his face for a long time. Without a word, she slid her hand into his and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. The singer was a nice blend of old and new, offering classics for the traditional crowd earlier on, then switching to current popular songs for the younger partiers. Gavin stopped and motioned him over, giving his request, then eased Miranda into his arms.

She fit in his arms as if they’d never been apart. The years melted away and became a distant memory. His body remembered the familiar rhythm and settled as if he was home. Thigh brushed against thigh, and his hips cradled hers. He buried his hands in the silky waves curling down her back, and the tight nubs of her nipples against his chest told him she was just as aroused. The creamy tone of I’ve Got You Under My Skin drifted in his ears.

“God, Red, you could always drive a man to his knees.”

Her thigh slid between his legs and her knee lifted slightly. He sucked in his breath as the slither of silk rushed past his ears, and warm flesh pressed against his erection. Her body trembled, and a fierce rush of satisfaction shot through him. His lady may fight her emotions, but on a primitive scale, her body surrendered.