Had he been serious? Or had it been lust talking? Pillow talk—men engaged in it all the time, didn’t they? She mentally scanned her past lovers. Yes, she thought miserably, men could and would say whatever necessary to get a piece of the action. But Jonas wasn’t just any man. He was more honorable than that. Right? Or was she just fooling herself?
Her big mouth was to blame. If she’d kept it shut, maybe Jonas would have been the first to cave. She could’ve waited a little longer, watched for signs that it was love and not desire he was feeling. “Well, that train has already left the station,” she mumbled to herself as she turned down the street where her client lived.
Deanna knew now that the number-one reason she hadn’t had a decent, long-term relationship with a man was because her heart already belonged to another. It’d happened the day of their family picnic. Jonas had grinned that ornery grin of his, and Deanna had sunk like a fishing lure. She’d put her heart in a vault that day, saving it for when Jonas would come collecting. Would tonight be that night? Her heart fluttered at the thought.
As she approached the older, two-story brick house, Deanna switched from daydreaming romantic to confident businesswoman. Valerie was a sweet woman. Her husband was an executive at a bank, and Valerie had recently retired. With her kids grown, Valerie had decided to pamper herself a little. The first thing on her agenda was a bigger bathroom with a Jacuzzi-style tub. She wanted Deanna to create a mini-oasis for her. The woman had a vision of something peaceful and relaxing, with tropical colors and a comfortable sitting area. It would be a big project, but an enjoyable one for Deanna.
As Deanna pulled into the woman’s driveway and cut the engine, she wrapped her black calf-length wool coat around herself a little tighter. Winter was in full swing and kicking her butt today. She started to get out
when her cell phone rang. Deanna looked at the caller ID. UNAVAILABLE. The only person who came up like that was Valdez. She took a deep breath and let it out. “It’s now or never.”
Deanna hit the SEND button. “Hello?”
“Miss Harrison, it’s Terrance. I saw that you called?”
“Yes,” she said, striving for confidence. “I wanted to let you know that I won’t be able to do the project after all.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, something’s come up.” Like the fact that you’re a drug-dealing loser. “I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your time.”
“That’s unfortunate, but I understand. Business is business, after all. Will you be picking up those fabric samples, then?”
The fabric samples! Damn, she’d completely forgotten about them. “Oh, uh, yes,” she replied. “I can swing by tomorrow. Around noon work for you?”
“That’ll do fine. Till then, Miss Harrison.”
Deanna ended the call. “Done. Whew.” Instant relief flooded her system.
As Deanna got out of her car, a gust of wind caught her hair and she shivered. She quickly grabbed her briefcase and jogged up to the front door. Valerie met her with a cheerful hello.
“Come in, dear, before you freeze to death.”
Deanna didn’t have to be asked twice. “Boy, do you have terrific timing,” she said. The warm fresh scent of pastries and the sound of a crackling fire hit her. Deanna’s stomach growled even as her body began to warm.
Valerie laughed and took her coat from her shoulders, then hung it on a rack next to the door. “I just took a pie out of the oven. I hope you’re hungry.”
“Ooh, that sounds wonderful, thank you. I haven’t eaten anything today. Been busy.”
Valerie shook her head. “You’re just like my youngest, Danielle. She gets tied up at work and skips right past lunch. I get on her all the time about it. Do you like cherry pie, Deanna? The crust is homemade.”
Her mouth began to water. “Homemade crust? No way am I turning that down.”
“I knew I was going to like you,” Valerie said, beaming from ear to ear.
That quickly, Deanna forgot all about her worries and poured herself into the job as she gave her client her full attention.
23
“This restaurant is wonderful, Jonas.” Deanna looked around, impressed all over again. “The open kitchen, crisp white linens, and that beautiful Italian mural”—she pointed to the far wall—“make me feel as if I’ve stepped right into a restaurant in Italy.”
“I’m glad you like it. As you’ve no doubt figured out by now, I can’t cook for shit. Unless you count spaghetti and sauce from a jar. But these folks know how to cook good Italian food.”
“My dish is delicious.” She’d ordered penne pasta with smoked salmon and mascarpone cheese sauce on top. “And the atmosphere is so cozy, and the service is friendly, without being intrusive.”
“Cozy, yeah, that was the plan,” he murmured as he took a bite of his chicken marsala.
“How’d you know about it?” Deanna wondered if he’d brought other women to the restaurant. Unreasonable as it was, she sincerely hoped not. She wanted Vino’s to be their special place.