So Irresistible Read Online Free PDF Page B

Shane knew that now. He wanted no further part of it. If he behaved as spontaneously as possible tonight, he would have no need for spontaneity later. When it came time to make his gambit on the Grimanis’ pizzerias, he’d be tough. Unstoppable.
    But in the meantime . . . he was cutting loose. All the way.
    Without the armor of his suit coat and tie, he felt naked already. But that was the whole point. To get this over with. To experience all the unaccustomed-to feelings he’d been feeling, so he could go back to being stoic and untouchable and strong.
    He hated the feeling of being open. It made him nervous. But since he wasn’t a man who backed down from anything . . .
    Determinedly, Shane reached for his belt buckle. “What’s least like something I’d wear?” he mused. “Jeans? Or maybe—”
    Lizzy turned to answer him, stared for a second, then held up her hands. “Hey! Stop right there, you pervy show-off. I don’t want to know if you’re a boxers or briefs guy.”
    Hands full of his belt buckle, Shane laughed. He looked down at himself. “There is a third option, you know.”
    Her gaze skittered to his fly. “Commando? Gross!”
    “And that’s how I know we’re in it for good. You’re the only person who’s ever been straight with me.”
    “Shane.” Her voice lowered. “You know that’s not true.”
    But by then, Shane had recognized Lizzy lecture number twelve in the offing—and he wasn’t interested. So he only raised his hand in a farewell, then headed down the hall.
    “Enjoy your rare book,” he called, dropping his shirt as he went. “Don’t forget those cab numbers and the hangover stuff. If I do this up right, I won’t even recognize myself in the morning.”
    Then, before he could get hung up on exactly why that idea sounded so appealing, Shane shut his bedroom door and shucked the rest of his clothes . . . along with all his inhibitions.
    For one night only, he was going commando. Starting with his dumb-ass damaged soul. He was stripping it bare.
    Maybe then, Shane reasoned, he’d find some damn peace.

Chapter Three
    Once upon a time, Gabriella used to love arriving at Campania. She’d glance up at the familiar sign ( PROUDLY SERVING PORTLAND SINCE 1959! ), duck under the awning festooning her family’s flagship redbrick pizzeria, then walk through the door into a wonderland full of yeasty, tomatoey, cheesy goodness.
    To her, Campania had always been a second home. Gabriella had learned to toss pizzas here. She’d spent weekday evenings doing homework at the hi-top table near the wait station and weekends helping her dad scale and round hundreds of pounds of dough. She’d learned volumes about tomato sauce acidity, dough retardation, and fast pizza box folding. She’d worked out how to greet customers, how to bus tables, and how to tear fresh mozzarella into perfectly sized pieces to top a margherita pie.
    She’d seized her family legacy . . . and then she’d thrown it all away during one stubborn, hotheaded showdown with her dad.
    That was probably why, these days, Gabriella had to gird herself to walk through the doors at Campania. She had to smile at her customers and chat with them, no matter how tired or worried she was. She had to reassure them that the “bad news” they’d seen on a food blog or in The Oregonian was only referring to temporary closures of a few Grimani pizzerias . . . even while knowing she couldn’t be sure they would only be temporary.
    The front of the house—where the dining room and wait station were located—was challenging. Much worse was the back of the house, where the line cooks and dishwashers still hadn’t eased up on their feelings of betrayal. Even though Gabriella was technically in charge, no one wanted to listen to her—or to forgive her. Not yet. Her leaving the pizzeria (admittedly in a huff, on the spur of the moment) had offended everyone.
    In their business, they were family. Gabriella, in one regrettable moment, had