The Devil Served Desire Read Online Free PDF Page B

Dante's own.
    Whoa... she needed a cold shower. Quick. "I can get pasta anywhere," she said.
    Dante bent down and nuzzled against her neck. "Mine is special."
    Hoo-boy. She'd bet it was. She was in trouble now. What had started as an innocent game, a flirtation in his arms, had become something much, much hotter— and with higher stakes than a bowl of spaghetti. "All men say that."
    Dante twirled her out to face him again. They stepped to the side, swishing against each other beneath the quarter moon. "I’m not most men, Maria."
    Crazy Carlo ended his song. The violin fell silent. The screech of a window being pulled down cut across the quiet of the neighborhood.
    The moment was over, the spell between them broken. Pompeii retreated from an impending natural disaster to a simmering lava mass. Dante was still a linguine-in-bed guy and she was still a woman who had just left a diet support group. Trying his pasta, as he'd said, was about as smart as paying full retail when her credit card was already maxed out.
    "You have a customer waiting for you." She stepped away from him and retrieved her food. "I think he's more interested in your pasta than I am."
    Liar, liar, hormones on fire.
    Maria left as fast as she could, before she made any other stupid mistakes where Dante was concerned. She'd rounded the corner and was a block from home when she heard the voices. This time a trio of male voices. Drunk male voices, singing an off-key and mostly jumbled version of an Italian love song.
    She knew that pickled barbershop triplet. Her grandfather and his friends.
    "Maria!" Sal Pagliano called when he spied her on the corner. "Come, sing with us."
    "I'm on my way home, Nonno. You should be, too."
    "I am, I am. We watch the game and drink to celebrate the victory."
    Nicky Benedetto cocked his head. "Hey, wait a minute. Who won? I think we drank to the wrong team."
    Nonno waved a hand in dismissal. "Doesn't matter. They win, we drink. Everybody happy."
    Guiseppe Santo looked at Maria. "You look happy, too. You drinking tonight?"
    "No, I was ... out."
    "With a man, I bet," Nicky said, elbowing Nonno.
    Nonno looked at Maria, his hazy eyes suddenly going clear. He had the vision of a hawk when he spotted a lie—or an impending romance. "Are you falling in love?"
    She let out a laugh. "Definitely not."
    "Ah, too bad. Love, she is sweeter than the first sip of wine."
    "Hey, if that's true, then why are we out drinking instead of home with our wives?" Nicky asked. He slumped against a lamppost and put the back of his hand against his forehead, pondering that question.
    "Because our wives drive us crazy," Guiseppe said. "And a man needs a little room off the leash to play in the yard."
    As much as she loved her grandfather and often laughed at the antics of his friends, this was exactly the kind of thing she wanted to avoid. Traditional men with traditional values that kept their wives behind an apron while they roamed the neighborhood. It was why she needed to avoid Dante Del Rosso, at all costs and all flavors.
    Maria took her grandfather's arm. "Come on, Nonno. We'll walk home together."
    "Be careful of that wife of yours," Nicky called after him as they walked away. "She might be mad at you."
    "Ah, she's always mad at me," Sal said, grinning. "But a little of the Pagliano music and she'll forgive me before the moon is full."
    Guiseppe snorted. "The wine has made you crazy, Sal. You're too old to last as long as the moon."
    "I'm lucky if I make it long enough to hear Leno tell a joke," Nicky said. He shoved off from the lamppost and shook his head. "You, Sal, you always see Leno. The whole show, too."
    "That's because I can last longer than the two of you put together," Sal called over his shoulder, then turned back to Maria, a laugh in his face. "See what you get to look forward to when you're old and gray?"
    Not if I'm lucky, she thought.
    The other two walked away in the opposite direction, muttering their envy about Sal's endurance.