One Passionate Night

CHAPTER TWO

THE NEXT MORNING, as instructed by Constanzo, Laura Beth took a taxi to Tucker Engle’s private airstrip. She pulled her measly suitcase out of the backseat and paid the driver one-fifth of the money she had, leaving her a mere pittance. If this job didn’t pan out, she’d be penniless. But since she was already in trouble, and knew Antonio and Constanzo well, taking work as Antonio’s personal assistant wasn’t much of a risk.

A swirl of April air kicked up dust on the tarmac as she walked to the plane. Two pilots stood beside the lowered stairway, comparing information in logbooks. As she approached, one of the men saw her and smiled. He said something in Italian and she winced.

“Sorry. I don’t speak Italian.”

The pilot laughed. “I speak English. What can we do for you?”

“I’m Laura Beth Matthews. Constanzo told me he would call you to add my name to your passenger list.”

The pilot looked down, then back up again. But the second pilot pointed at the list.

“Ah, sì. Here you are.” He reached for her pathetic suitcase. “I will take care of this.”

Fear ruffled through her as a man she didn’t know took the entirety of her possessions out of her hand and walked away. But the second pilot pointed up the steps.

She sucked in a breath. She needed to get away. She needed time to think. She needed a job. She climbed the stairs.

At the doorway she stopped and gasped. The main area looked more like a living room than a plane. Rows of seats had been replaced by long, comfortable-looking sofas. Tables beside the sofas provided places for books, drinks or food. A desk and wet bar in the back filled the remaining space.

She eased toward the sofas, wondering where the heck Constanzo and Antonio were. Sitting on the soft leather, she leaned back, enjoying the feel of it against her nape. She’d been so nervous the night before she hadn’t slept, and part of her just wanted to nod off. Before she got too comfortable, though, a commotion sounded outside. She jumped up and looked out the window.

A big white limo had pulled up. Antonio got out and held the door for his dad. She tilted her head, watching them.

Dressed in jeans and an open dress shirt over a white T-shirt, Antonio looked totally different. She usually saw him in tuxedos at gallery openings or formal events, or trousers and white shirts at parties for Olivia and Tucker’s kids. Seeing him so casual sent a jolt of attraction through her. Especially with the way the breeze blew through his long curly hair, making her wonder if it was as soft as it looked.

She shook her head at her stupidity and raced back to her seat. She’d just gotten settled when Constanzo boarded the plane.

“Carissima. You made it.”

She rose, just in case she was sitting in the wrong place. “I did.”

Antonio entered behind his dad. He stopped when he saw her, his brow wrinkling. “Laura Beth?”

Though Antonio had been raised in the United States, he’d spent the past five years in Italy. Speaking Italian had changed the timbre of his voice. Her name rolled off his tongue sensually. A shiver breezed along her skin. And another thought suddenly hit her—this man was now her boss. She wouldn’t just be working to organize him. They’d be living together.

Oh, wow. No wonder her thoughts ran amok. She was going to be living with the guy she’d had a crush on for five years.

Right. Plain Jane Laura Beth would be living with a famous artist, who still grieved his equally gorgeous, equally wonderful wife. Common sense plucked away her fear. She had nothing to worry about.

She smiled and said, “Hello.”

Constanzo ambled to the back of the plane. “Can I get you a drink?”

She turned to watch Constanzo as he approached the bar. “No. Thanks.”

Antonio stopped in front of her. With his windblown hair and sun-kissed skin, he looked so good, so sexy, that her mouth watered. Especially when his dark eyes met hers.

“What are you doing here?”

Reminding herself Antonio wouldn’t ever be attracted to her and she had to get rid of this crush, she peeked back at Constanzo again.

He batted a hand. “I hired her. She’s out of her apartment and had no permanent job. It was perfect timing.”

Antonio’s lips lifted into a smile that would have stopped her heart if she hadn’t known he was off-limits. “Oh. That’s great.”

The pilot announced they’d been cleared for takeoff. Antonio pointed at the leather sofa, indicating Laura Beth should sit, then he sat beside her. Close enough to touch. Close enough that if they hit turbulence, they’d tumble together.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Stop!

She had to get ahold of these wayward thoughts or she’d drive herself crazy living with him! She was not in this guy’s league. She’d figured all this out yesterday. She was common, pregnant and needed a job more than a crush.

They both buckled in. The little jet taxied to the runway of the small airstrip and took off smoothly. It climbed for a few minutes and leveled off before the fasten-seat-belts light blinked off and the pilot announced they anticipated an uneventful flight, so they could move about the cabin.

To settle her nerves and maybe waylay the attraction that zapped her every time she looked down and saw Antonio’s thigh mere inches away from hers, Laura Beth pulled a book from her purse.

“Ah. I loved that novel.”

She glanced at the book, then at Antonio. “I never took you for a science fiction fan.”

“Are you kidding? Some of the best art is in science fiction. The imaginations and imagery required are magnificent.”

Laura Beth smiled, glad they had something normal to talk about, but her stomach picked that exact second to growl. Her face flushed.

Antonio laughed. “You skipped breakfast.”

She hadn’t been able eat breakfast. It seemed that now that she knew she was pregnant, morning sickness had kicked in.

“Um, I wasn’t hungry when I got up this morning.”

Antonio unbuckled his seat belt. He reached for her hand. “Come with me.”

She undid her seat belt and took the hand he’d offered. Her fingers tingled when his warm hand wrapped around them. As he pulled her up to stand, she reminded herself to stop noticing these things and followed him to the back of the plane.

The area she’d believed was a wet bar was actually a small kitchenette. She gaped at it. “You have to be kidding me.”

Antonio nudged his head in the direction of his dad, who had fallen asleep on the sofa across from the one where Antonio and Laura Beth had been sitting.

“Anything my dad could possibly want is always stocked on the plane. When we arrive at our destination, any food not eaten will be donated to a charity.” He laughed and opened the small fridge. “How about eggs and toast?”

Her stomach didn’t lurch at the thought, so she nodded.

Antonio studied her. “Hmm. Not very enthusiastic. So let’s try French toast.”

“I love French toast.” And she hadn’t had it in forever.

He motioned for her to sit at one of the bar stools, obviously needing her out of the way in the tiny space. He hit a button and what looked to be a grill appeared.

“This is so cool.”

“This is the life of a billionaire.”

She glanced around. Remembering her thoughts from the night before, she didn’t look at the plane as somebody who someday wanted to own one. She counted her blessings that she was here and had a job and a place to stay.

“It’s kind of fun getting to see things that I wouldn’t normally see.”

He frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, I’m never going to be a billionaire. So I’m never going to own a plane like this.”

“Ah.” He broke two eggs in a bowl, added milk, vanilla and a dash of what appeared to be cinnamon, beat the mixture, then rummaged for bread. When he found it, he dipped two slices into the egg mixture and put them on the small griddle. They sizzled.

She sniffed the vanilla. “Yum.”

“You really must be hungry.”

“I am.”

He turned to flip the two pieces of French toast. She tilted her head, taking in the details that made him who he was. Sexy dark hair. Wide shoulders. Trim hips. But his face was the showstopper. Dark, dark eyes in olive skin. A square jaw. High cheekbones.

Something soft and warm floated through her. She was just about to curse herself for looking at him again when she realized she’d never felt like this with Bruce. She’d liked Bruce—actually, she’d believed she’d loved him. But she’d never felt this odd combination of attraction and curiosity that mixed and mingled with the warmth of their friendship and turned her feelings into something more...something special.

She cleared her throat. What was she doing? Fantasizing again? This guy was her boss! Not only that, but he was a widower. Someone who’d lost his wife and still grieved her so much he no longer painted. What would he want with her? Plain, simple Laura Beth Matthews, who—oh, by the way—was also pregnant with another man’s child. Her job was to organize him back to the land of the living, not drool over him.

He made eight pieces of French toast, divided them onto two plates and handed one to her.

Her stomach rumbled again. “Thanks.”

He passed the syrup across the bar. She slathered it on her French toast, but waited for him to pick up his fork before she picked up hers. If there was one thing she’d learned from her years of attending Olivia and Tucker’s baby events and Ricky and Eloise’s elaborate parties, it was to follow the lead of the host and hostess.

He took a bite of his French toast, then smiled at her. “So getting a job where you get to live in was a pretty nifty way to handle the apartment problem.”

She reddened to the roots of her hair. “Does it seem sleazy?”

“No. It’s smart. After I rotated out of the foster-care system, I’d have killed for a job that got me off the streets.”

“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t have scrounged your way to Italy, where your dad found you.”

“Scrounged.” He grinned. “I love American words.”

“Hey, you’re half-American!”

“Yes, I am. And proud of it. I use both worlds.” He frowned. “Or did.” Then he brightened. “Never mind. How’s the toast?”

“I love it.” She pushed her plate away having eaten only two slices. “But I’m full.”

Antonio took her plate and his and set them in a metal drawer, which he closed. “Staff will get this when we land.”

She laughed. “Wow.”

“Hey, you better get used to living like this.”

Though she didn’t think Antonio was as persnickety or as pampered as his dad, she decided not to argue the point. Especially since she’d had a sleepless night, agonizing over her problems. With her tummy full and the lull of the plane, she just wanted to curl up on one of the sofas.

She wandered back to her seat, buckled herself in—in case they hit turbulence—and almost immediately fell asleep.

She awoke to the feeling of someone shaking her. “Laura Beth...we’re here.”

She snuggled into the blanket someone had thrown over her. “We’re where?”

“In Italy.”

Her eyes popped open. When she found herself staring into the gorgeous face of Antonio Bartulocci, it all tumbled back. They were on a plane to Italy. His dad had hired her. She didn’t have an apartment. She was pregnant.

Her stomach dropped.

She was pregnant. In a foreign country. Starting a new job. Working for Antonio, who needed her. But she was attracted to him. She thought he was the sexiest, most gorgeous man alive and she would be living with him. But he didn’t feel the same way about her.

That relaxed her. It could be a good thing if he only saw her as a friend. As long as she hid her crush, there’d be no problem. Plus, being on call twenty-four-seven to help him get his life back would keep her from dwelling on her problems.

That was the real silver lining. Not just the money. Not just a place to live. But someone to take care of, so she could forget about herself.

She pushed aside the soft cover. Her days of daydreaming she belonged in this world as anything other than an employee were over. She could take this job and run with it, create a halfway decent life for herself and her baby. Everything would be fine.

“Thanks for the blanket.”

Antonio smiled. “My pleasure.”

She found her purse and tucked her science fiction novel inside. Two gentlemen, Antonio and Constanzo waited for her to exit first.

Constanzo paused to say something to the pilots, but quickly joined them on the tarmac below the steps.

She glanced around. The sky was blue, as perfect as any she’d seen in Kentucky. Tall green grass in the fields surrounding the airstrip swayed in a subtle breeze that cut through the heat. “Another private airstrip?”

“You don’t think my dad’s going to have a plane and suffer the torment of going to a real airport and waiting to take off and land, do you?”

Pushing a strand of her hair off her face, she laughed. “Right. Spoiled.”

“Incredibly spoiled. You’re going to need to remember that.”

She frowned. It was the second time he’d said something odd about her getting accustomed to his dad. Still, he was her boss now. They might have been able to relate like friends on the plane, but here on Italian soil, his home turf, her role kicked in. She was his assistant. Basically, a secretary. But this was better than anything she’d even come close to finding in New York.

This was her life now.

Constanzo walked over. “Bags are on their way to the limo.”

Laura Beth said, “Wow. Fast.”

Antonio laughed. “So much for you to get used to about my dad.” He nudged his father’s shoulder. “Exactly how do you intend to explain to Bernice that you hired someone to help her?”

Laura Beth’s brow wrinkled.

Constanzo’s face reddened.

Laura Beth gasped as she faced Antonio. “You think Constanzo hired me to work for him?”

This time Antonio’s brow wrinkled. “You’re not working for my dad?”

Constanzo’s face reddened even more as both Laura Beth and Antonio turned to him.

“I did not hire her to help my PA. I hired her to be yours.”

* * *

Antonio’s mouth fell open at his father’s audacity. Anger whispered across his skin, causing his temper to bubble. He took a minute to pull in a breath and remind himself that his father hiring a PA was nothing compared to his deceased wife’s handiwork.

Still, when he spoke, his voice was harsh, angry. “Why are you meddling in my life?”

Constanzo headed for the limo again. “I’m not meddling.” He strolled across the quiet tarmac. “You said last night that you were thinking about this. When Laura Beth and I struck up a conversation and I realized she’d be perfect for the job, I did what I do best...I anticipated.”

He almost cursed. “You meddled!”

Laura Beth touched his arm to get his attention. Her fingertips warmed his skin, caused his breathing to stutter.

“I didn’t realize he didn’t have your permission.”

Constanzo bristled. “I did not need my son’s permission. He said last night he was agreeable. I anticipated.”

Antonio stayed outside the limo, unable to get himself to move into the car with his dad and Laura Beth, who had hesitantly climbed inside. Confusion and resentment clamored inside him. He wasn’t just angry about his dad hiring someone for him; his reactions to Laura Beth were wrong.

He’d always liked her. And, yes, he supposed there was a bit of an attraction there. But suddenly, today, maybe because they’d had such an intimate chat on the plane, he was feeling things he shouldn’t feel. Good God, she was a sweet girl trying to find her way in life. And he was an angry widower. He did not want to be attracted to her, and if she were smart she wouldn’t want to be attracted to him. Worse, they should not be living together.

He had to fire her.

No...Constanzo had to fire her.

Behind him, the chauffeur wheeled their luggage to the rear of the limo. One scruffy brown bag stood out.

It had to be Laura Beth’s.

Just one bag. And it was worn. So worn he would consider it unusable. But that was her best.

He scrubbed his hand across his mouth as a picture formed in his brain. Her two roommates hadn’t just found the loves of their lives, they’d made careers for themselves and she was still working temp jobs.

Damn it.

He couldn’t embarrass her by refusing to let her work for him. But he didn’t want to be living with an attractive woman—the first woman to stir something inside him since Gisella. Worse, he didn’t want someone rifling through his things.

He’d give Laura Beth a few days to rest in his country house, then gently explain that he didn’t want a PA. Since he was essentially firing her, he’d send her back to the US with a good-sized severance check and the codes for his dad’s penthouse so she’d be okay until she found a new job.

But today, once he had her settled, he intended to have this out with his dad.

CHAPTER THREE

LAURA BETH WATCHED Antonio climb into the limo. He didn’t say a word the entire drive to his father’s house.

Nerves skittered along her skin. He didn’t want her. It seemed he didn’t want a PA at all...Constanzo did. And the second he got out of the car, Antonio would fire her.

They reached Constanzo’s beautiful country home and he unceremoniously got out. Angry, too, he didn’t say a word to his son. When the limo began moving again, she couldn’t take the quiet.

“I’m so sorry.”

Antonio stared out the window. “Not your fault. As I told you on the plane, my dad has the mistaken belief that everything he wants should be there when he wants it. Sometimes that translates into a belief that everyone in his life should do what he wants when he wants it done.”

With that the car got quiet again. Any second now she expected him to apologize and fire her. But he didn’t. The twenty-minute drive was extremely quiet, but with every mile that passed without him saying, “You’re fired,” her spirits lifted a bit. They drove up to his gorgeous country home and he got out as if nothing were amiss.

Exiting the limo, she glanced around. Antonio’s home was nestled in a silent stretch of Italian countryside. Hills and valleys layered in rich green grass with a spattering of wildflowers surrounded the new house. A smaller, much older house sat at the end of a stone path.

As if seeing the direction of her gaze, Antonio said, “That’s my studio.”

She tilted her head as she studied it. In some ways the old stone house was more beautiful than the big elaborate home that had obviously been built within the past few years—probably for his wife.

Her face heated as envy tightened her chest, so she quickly reprimanded herself. This man she thought so handsome had had a wife, someone he’d adored. She’d been hired to be a glorified secretary. She was pregnant with another man’s child. And she’d also decided the night before that she was no longer going to try to fit herself into a world too grand for her. Being jealous of Antonio’s dead wife, being attracted to a famous artist slated to inherit the estate of one of the world’s wealthiest men...that was foolishness that she’d nip in the bud every time it popped into her head, until it left for good.

Antonio motioned to the door and she walked before him into the grand foyer of his home. A wide circular stairway and marble floors welcomed her. To the right, a painting of what looked to be the field outside his house brightened the huge foyer with its rich greens and striking blues of both the flowers and sky.

“I’ve seen this before.”

He laughed. “In Tucker and Olivia’s Montauk mansion.”

She faced him. “That’s right!”

“I bought it back from them.”

“I can see why. It’s beautiful.”

“It was the first thing I painted when I rented the run-down shack I now use as a studio.”

He walked up behind her. Little pinpricks of awareness danced up her spine. “The second I set foot on Italian soil, I knew this was my home, that the time I’d spent in foster care in America was an aberration. An accident.” He pointed at the painting. “This picture captures all the happiness of that discovery.”

“I see it.”

He sniffed a laugh. “Tucker did too. Made me pay him a pretty penny to get it back.” He motioned to the stairs. “Let me show you to your room.”

Taken aback by the abrupt change of mood, she almost didn’t follow him. Her skin was prickly and hot from his nearness, her breathing shallow. Still, she smiled and started up the steps, reminding herself that he was off-limits and she should be paying attention to the layout of the house rather than the nearness of her boss.

At the top of the staircase, Antonio directed her down a short hall. A glance to the left and right showed her the upstairs had been designed in such a way that private hallways led to individual rooms. And each wall had a painting. Some stark and stunning. Some warm and rich with color.

They finally stopped at a closed door. Antonio opened it and directed her inside. She gasped as she entered. Thick white carpets protected golden hardwood floors. A white headboard matched the white furniture, which was all brightened by an aqua comforter and bed skirt and sheer aqua curtains that billowed in the breeze of the open window.

“It’s beautiful.” She’d tried not to sound so pedestrian and poor, but the simple color scheme in the huge room with such beautiful furniture took her breath away.

“Thank you. I did this room myself.”

“You did?” She turned with a happy smile on her face, but her smile died when she saw him looking around oddly. “What?”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing. Foolish.”

“Come on.” She used the cajoling voice she’d use with her older brother when he had a secret. If they were going to be working together—and she hoped his recent change in mood was an indicator that they were—she needed to get him to trust her. “We’re friends. You can tell me.”

He sucked in a breath, walked a bit farther into the room. “Most men let their wives decorate, but mine was away—” He caught her gaze. “Traveling. She also showed no interest in the samples the designer sent to her, and one day I just decided to look at the whole house as a canvas and—” he shrugged “—here we are.”

“Well, if the rest of the rooms are as beautiful as this one, I can’t wait to see everything.”

He smiled slightly. “I’ll give you a tour tonight.”

She said, “Great,” but her heart sank. Talking about his wife had made him sad. He might give her the tour, but it would be grudgingly. The disparity of their stations in life and the reality of her situation poured through her. She might be trying to get him to trust her, but if she were simply a new assistant not a friend of friends, he wouldn’t give her the tour of his house. She might not even get such a grand bedroom. He probably wouldn’t have told her the tidbit about decorating it himself. And he wouldn’t be sad.

Maybe it was time to put herself in her place with him—for him.

“You don’t have to.” She laughed lightly, trying to sound like an employee, not a friend. “This is your home. There might be areas you wish to keep private.”

He faced her, his expression filled with sadness. “People in the public eye quickly realize there is no such thing as privacy. If you sense hesitancy about my showing you the house, it’s because the house reminds me of better times.”

She struggled to hold back a wince at her stupidity. Of course, memories of his dead wife affected him more than the oddness of having a friend working for him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” He glanced around at her room again. “I’d love to have my inspiration back. I’d love to paint again.” He drew in a breath, as if erasing whatever memories had come to mind and faced her. “I need to go to my father’s for an hour or so. But it’s already late. Especially considering we’re five hours ahead of New York here. You may just want to turn in for the night.”

“Are you kidding? I had a seven-hour nap! Plus, I’m still on New York time.”

“Maybe you’d like to read by the pool? Or make yourself something to eat. The staff doesn’t return until tomorrow, but the kitchen is all yours.”

He left her then and she fell to the bed, trepidation filling her. So much for thinking he’d changed his mind about keeping her. He was going to Constanzo’s to confront him about hiring her. When he came back, he’d probably tell her that her services were no longer needed.

She wanted to stay. Not just because she needed a job, loved getting room and board and wanted some time away from everyone to figure out her life, but also because Antonio was so sad. Somebody needed to help him.

Empathy for Constanzo rippled through her, total understanding of why he desperately wanted to do something to lift his son out of his sadness. Antonio was a good man. Life had treated him abysmally by taking away his beloved wife. He deserved to have someone nudge him back into the real world. And having someone to help actually gave her a way to forget about her own troubles. It could be the perfect situation for both of them.

Except Antonio didn’t want her.

Her stomach rumbled and she rose. Might as well find the kitchen and make herself something to eat. Because this time tomorrow she’d probably be on a plane back to New York.

A failure again.

But on her way to the kitchen, the beauty of the house superseded her need for food as it lured her from one room to the next. She hadn’t expected a stuffy, formal house. Antonio was too creative for that. But she also hadn’t expected to be so charmed by paintings and sculptures that added life and energy to brightly colored sofas, or the eclectic dining room that had a long wood table and sixteen different-styled chairs around it.

Eventually she found herself at the door of a room with a desk and a tall-backed chair, which fronted a huge office with an enormous window through which she could see the pool and the field of flowers behind it.

His office?

With an office in front? For an assistant?

Had he had an assistant before? Could Constanzo be right? Was he ready for someone again?

She entered hesitantly. Stacks of papers littered the first desk, the desk she believed would belong to an assistant. But his room was empty, his desk dusty though free of clutter.

She walked in slowly, ran her fingers through the dust on his desk, curious again. From the coating of dust alone, she’d swear he hadn’t been in this room since his wife died.

At the wall of glass, she stopped. The window was actually a series of doors, which she slid aside. A warm breeze fluttered in, bringing the scent of the pool not more than twenty feet away. When forced to do paperwork, Antonio could be poolside.

Sheesh. The rich really knew how to live.

With a sigh, she closed the doors. But as she walked into the outer office, she saw all those papers piled high on the assistant’s desk. A film of dust dulled the white of envelopes. Dust covered the arms of the desk chair. But that was nothing compared to the sheer volume of untouched paperwork, unopened mail.

Glancing around, she combed her fingers through her hair. It was no wonder Constanzo wanted his son to hire a PA. He clearly needed some assistance.

And, technically, helping him straighten this mess was her job—

If she kept it.

She walked to the desk, lifted a piece of paper and realized it was a thank-you from a fan. Reading it, she lowered herself to the chair. Obviously, Antonio didn’t know the letter’s author. So a simple note to express appreciation for his kindness in writing would suffice as a reply.

She leaned back. A box of fancy letterhead caught her eye. A beautiful script A on Antonio linked with the B in Bartulocci. What fan wouldn’t want to get a thank-you on the actual letterhead of the artist he admired?

The desire to turn on the computer and write a quick thank-you tempted her. She faced the monitor that sat on the side arm of the desk. She could press the button that would turn it on...

No. She couldn’t. It wasn’t right.

Still, somebody had to help him, and she needed a way to prove herself.

She lifted her hand to the start button again, but paused halfway and bit her lip. The computer software would probably be in Italian—

Though Antonio had been raised in the US—

She shook her head. It was one thing to look at a few pieces of mail, quite another to actually write letters for him without his permission.

But how else would she prove herself?

* * *

Antonio stopped his motorcycle at the front door of his father’s country house. He didn’t knock. He just entered the foyer and walked back to his father’s game room. Sure enough, there he was, playing pool.

“I see the nap you had on the plane gave you energy too.”

He set down his cue stick. “Antonio! Why aren’t you home?”

“With the PA you hired for me?” He shook his head. “Because I don’t want a PA and because your meddling in my life has to stop.”

“I don’t meddle. I anticipate.”

Antonio groaned. “You meddle, Dad. And I can’t have it anymore. Not just because it infuriates me, but because this time you’re hurting an innocent woman. She’s going to be devastated when I send her home.”

“So if you’re the one sending her home, how can you say that I’m the one hurting her?”

“Because you’re the one who brought her here under false pretenses!”

“I did no such thing. You need her.”

Antonio groaned again. “There’s no reasoning with you. You always see what you want to see.”

“True. But that’s also why I win so much.” He walked to the wall of pool sticks, chose one and offered it to Antonio. “Here is a place you sometimes beat me.”

Antonio snatched the stick away from his dad. “If you win, I keep her. If I win, she goes home after a few weeks of rest. But you pay her severance and you let her stay in your penthouse in New York.”