That's Amore! - Janelle Denison [88]
"She might not take it as hard as you think," Tony said.
"What do you mean?"
Tony glanced over his shoulder, as if to be sure he wasn't being overheard. "Well, Gloria thinks she's been acting…"
Like the Bride of Frankenstein?
"Like she's not really happy about this wedding, either."
Or that.
He half suspected Gloria was right, because Maria sure wasn't playing the part of happy bride-to-be. In fact, lately she'd been behaving like someone who had something to hide. Obviously, his sister-in-law had noticed, too. But before Luke could ask Tony to elaborate, the door to the restaurant opened, and his fiancée entered.
"I'll talk to you later," Tony mumbled. As he walked away, he gave Luke a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
A pat for good luck? A reminder that his family would back him up? Or just a last touch between brothers because he was afraid the very volatile Italian bride was going to stab Luke through the throat with a bread knife when he told her he wanted to call off the wedding.
Maybe all of the above.
"God, what a morning. I hate traffic. I hate this whole city and every person in it." Her voice held a whiny edge he'd heard all too often in recent weeks.
"Good morning to you, too," he said to Maria as she took the seat across from him. Brown. Her eyes were brown. Which, of course, he knew. But he hadn't been able to call to mind the color ever since first meeting Rachel's blue-eyed stare earlier this week.
She frowned, a perpetual expression these days. "Sorry. It's been one of those days."
"One of those weeks," he said, nodding in agreement. "Everything seems to have gone crazy lately."
Her gaze shifted away, and her mouth tightened. "Yeah, more than you can imagine."
That was an opening. Her frown, her unhappiness, the slump of her shoulders. He didn't know Maria Martinelli as well as he ever should have, but he sure knew misery. This was about as close as he'd ever seen it. "Maria, tell me what's wrong."
She stiffened, but didn't meet his gaze. "Wrong?"
"Something's going on. I think it's about time both of us open up about it. Before it's too late."
She finally looked up. Her eyes grew suspiciously bright as she opened her mouth. But before she could say a word, the front door opened and his mother and sister-in-law, Gloria, came in, jabbering and chatting a mile a minute.
And the moment was lost. Whatever confession she'd been about to make was gone. Which meant Luke was going to have to do this the hard way.
He had to come right out and tell Maria Martinelli he didn't want to marry her.
RACHEL HAD BEEN ABLE to put Lucas's engagement completely out of her mind during their casual, friendly hours at the bookstore Friday night. Right up until the intense, heady moment when he'd come so close to kissing her.
She'd sensed how much he wanted to, and had longed for his kiss, which would have been absolutely perfect. Absolutely wonderful. Absolutely incredible.
If it hadn't been so absolutely wrong.
So she'd put a stop to things before they could get any worse than they already were. Thank God nothing serious had happened between them; she could console herself with that much, at least. It had been close. If he'd persisted—if he'd been less than a complete gentleman and had leaned down one more time so she could practically feel the warmth of his cheek, nearly taste the sweet, coffee flavor of his breath, she likely would have kissed the lips right off the man.
But he hadn't. And it had been too late. The moment had passed. She'd somehow found the strength of will to drive away, watching his figure get smaller and smaller in her rearview mirror.
Enough was enough. She couldn't deal with the temptation anymore. So it was time to be completely businesslike when it came to the Martinelli-Santori wedding. Starting with this: a sizeable package that had just been delivered by the mailman. The return address was a familiar Internet-based wedding favor supplier, domeafavor.com, from whom Rachel had ordered favors for several couples.