“So the prodigal son has returned.”
“Wrong script, Dad,” Rick quipped. “This is The Son Also Rises.”
Serg Serenghetti fastened his eyes on Chiara. “What do you see in this guy?”
Chiara gave a weak smile.
“How do you know about us?” Rick retorted, addressing his father.
“I read WE Magazine,” Serg grumbled. “Same as everyone else. Your mother leaves copies lying around.” Serg lowered his brows. “And with my recovery, I have plenty of time to surf the internet for news about my wayward children.”
Rick looked at Chiara and jerked a finger in his father’s direction. “Do you believe he knows about surfing? He’s keeping up with those teenagers that make action flicks such blockbusters at the box office.”
As Rick poked fun at his father, his tone was laced with affection.
Serg grumbled again. “I’ve known a lot about a lot for a lot longer than you’ve been around, but all I get is guff from the young
pups.”
Rick pulled out a chair, and Serg sank into it.
“He’s still recovering from a stroke,” Rick murmured for her benefit.
Oh. Chiara felt a tug at her heartstrings. Beneath the bluster, the affection between father and son sounded loud and clear. In contrast, her relationship with her father was a distant echo.
Chiara realized that with the Serenghettis, she was in for something new and different from her own experience. And as she settled into a conversation with Serg, she realized that might not be such a bad thing—except for the fact that meeting his family made Rick even more likable and attractive, and she was already in danger of succumbing to him...
* * *
Rick couldn’t believe his eyes, but then he should have known Chiara would be a natural in front of the cameras—even on Camilla Serenghetti’s cooking show.
He was also tense. He wanted this episode to boost ratings for his mother, but he had little idea about Chiara’s cooking skills, let alone how they’d play out on television. And he also wanted Chiara and his mother to get along.
So far so good.
“The reason I’m not wearing an apron,” Chiara said brightly into the camera, “is because this outfit is too scrumptious to cover up.” She gestured at her V-neck berry-colored top with clever draping, the cream trousers underneath barely visible above the kitchen counter. “It’s courtesy of Camilla’s daughter, Mia Serenghetti, whose clothes are mouth-watering.”
Camilla laughed, and because she sat next to him in the audience, Rick could tell his sister looked amused.
“I guess Camilla is not the only talented one in the family.”
“Grazie tanto, Chiara bellissima,” his mother said.
“Prego.” Chiara acknowledged the thanks and then dumped prosciutto in a blender before smiling at the studio audience. “I sometimes prefer an electronic device to hand-chopping. Goes faster, too.”
As she scanned the buttons on the blender, Rick realized something was wrong and started to rise from his front-row seat.
Chiara pressed a button, and prosciutto pieces started flying everywhere.
Chiara yelped, and Camilla covered her mouth with her hands. The audience exploded in shocked laughter.
Rick stared, and then sank back into his seat.
Chiara quickly pressed another button to turn off the blender, and then she and Camilla stared at each other...before dissolving into peals of laughter.
“Oops.” Chiara looked into the camera and shrugged, a teasing smile on her face. “Next time I’ll remember to put the top on the blender first. But first let’s get this cleaned up.”
Moments later, after help from behind-the-scenes staff, Chiara raised a wineglass, and she and Camilla toasted each other.