Catering to the Italian Playboy Read Online Free PDF Page A

don’t have anything better to do.”
    “So will this photo of you sampling my menu be good or bad for my business?” A worried frown creased her forehead.
    “Depends. If I use your services it will be good. They’ll give you rave reviews. If I don’t, they’ll probably rake you through the coals with criticism.”
    Sophie gasped. “Why, that’s not fair! You’re not a food critic. You’re just a man.”
    Max’s lips twitched. “Thank you for pointing out my ordinary qualities.”
    “You know what I mean.” Sophie twisted her hands together and paced the baby-blue tiled floor. “They shouldn’t be able to print anything bad about A Touch of Spice Catering unless they have tried the food. It’s not fair for them to base their opinion on your likes or dislikes.”
    Max didn’t take offense. He knew what she meant. “I agree, but it is what it is and that’s the way things work in my circles.” He shot her a smile to take her mind off of the continuous stream of flashes from the press. “So why don’t we see if the rest of the food wows me as much as that chocolate cake did a few days ago.”
    Sophie nodded though she looked far from pleased.
    Max picked up the Antipasto Skewer. Again a blend of rich flavors – olives, roasted red pepper, Italian herbs and seasoned artichoke – tempted his palette.
    Max lifted a brow. “Excellent. Where did you learn to cook so well? Culinary school?”
    A shadow passed across her face before she answered. “My mom.”
    “Well, you can tell your mom she is an excellent teacher. This is great.” Max speared the Sea Scallop next and like all of the others, the bacon-wrapped appetizer didn’t disappoint.
    “Thanks, but my mom is…” Sophie blinked furiously but Max didn’t miss the tears filling the corners of her eyes. “My mom died.”
    The thickness threading her voice struck a chord. He knew that feeling well. The emptiness inside. The void that couldn’t be filled. He reached for her hand. A delicious tingle danced across his fingertips as his hand covered hers. Cameras flashed before he could think to remove his hand. Annoyed, Max clenched his jaw. It would be nice to have some privacy once in a while. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
    He removed his hand from atop hers and picked up his fork.
    “No. It’s fine. It’s been six years. I was a total mess when it happened, did some things I’m not proud of and wasn’t myself for quite some time. But I finally accepted it so I should be used to her death by now. Sometimes it just hits hard when you least expect it.” She pasted on a wobbly smile.
    “You were close to her then?” Max asked softly. An unexpected pain jabbed him in the chest. What was it like to have parents who loved you? A family of your own? Somewhere you actually belonged ?
    Irritated Max pushed the painful thoughts away. He was a grown man now. Not a child wishing upon a stupid star every night from the Sister Mary’s Orphanage window. Wishing and praying someone would come for him.
    And knowing no one ever would.
    Sophie’s green eyes, bright with unshed tears, mirrored his pain. The unexpected connection between them took him by surprise. So did the sudden urge to take away her pain. He knew the feeling all too well, which was why he now kept his heart fully guarded. No one would ever have even the slightest chance of hurting him again.
    “Very close. She was my best friend.” A tear squeezed from the corner of her eye. She brushed it away with the back of her hand. “Sorry. I’m usually not this emotional. How about trying the entrees now? Maybe with a big smile so the camera-happy folks outside won’t have any reason to give me a bad rap?”
    Then it hit him. Max’s breath froze. Six years ago? A total mess?
    A cold chill spread through him. Could that be why she had been so willing to go to bed with him that night? It made sense now, since the woman standing before him didn’t seem to be the type