Educating Gina Page 10

  “Does anybody in your family realize this is the twenty-first century?”

  “Nope.” Robert grinned. “Only me. I don’t like my women barefoot and pregnant.”

  “I’m serious, Rob. Gina is smart, and she knows the business. She’d be an asset.”

  “I wouldn’t let Pop hear that kind of talk. The last thing he’d want is for you to encourage Gina.” Robert sent him a speculative frown. “Something else is bothering you.”

  “Me? Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just your paranoia about the office gossip.”

  “What gossip?” Mike’s heart sank. Was it about Gina? His job? “I haven’t heard anything.”

  “There’s nothing to hear. I only meant that you keep worrying that something is going on.” Robert shook his head. “You’re the one who needs a vacation, buddy. When I get back, you’d better think seriously about getting away for a while.”

  “Right.” Signs to the various La Guardia terminals popped up all of a sudden. “Pay attention to the signs. I don’t want to get stuck in the arrival lane and have to circle the airport.”

  Conversation ceased while they navigated their way to the right terminal. Cabs hogged the curb and space was at a premium. Mike pulled over as close to the skycap station as he could and then popped the trunk.

  Robert jumped out and hurriedly yanked out his bags. “Thanks for the lift,” he said into Mike’s open window. “I’m serious about you taking a vacation when I get back. I figure I can manage to hold down the fort for a week or two without everything falling apart.”

  “Yeah, I’ll think about it. Have a good trip.” Mike started to raise the window as Robert headed for the curb. “Hey, Robert—” his friend looked back “—how about taking Gina off my hands for about a week when you get back?”

  “No problem.” He gave him a salute and then turned to the skycap.

  Oh, yeah, there was a problem. Gina was going to be pissed off and, even worse, hurt and confused. But this had to stop before things went too far.

  Mike suddenly felt guilty as hell.

  A WEEK HAD PASSED since that night at the weird club, and Gina and Mike had spent every day together, going to museums and the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building. In the evenings they sometimes went to dinner or a play. But he had not kissed her again, and Gina was growing impatient.

  She had done nothing wrong. And she now knew him well enough to know he thought about kissing her. Often. Every day. But he stopped himself and was careful to keep her at a distance so she could not act. Which frustrated her. And what Michael did not know was that when she grew frustrated or impatient, she became determined.

  Mama called her stubborn. Gina preferred determined.

  She watched him read the entertainment section of the newspaper. Tiny lines formed between his brows when he concentrated, and his mouth looked very stern. She liked it better when it was soft and sucking her breasts.

  “How about we go see a movie for a change?” He looked up when she did not answer right away. “Anything you want to see?”

  She sighed. She wanted to go dancing, but for the past two nights all he said was maybe later. Later she would be back in Tuscany under her mother and grandmother’s eagle eyes. The thought depressed her.

  “Gina?”

  “What?”

  “I asked what movie you’d like to see.”

  “I do not want to see a movie.” She plopped down beside him on her uncle’s couch and sat cross-legged. The freedom of wearing jeans would be something else she would miss. “I want to go dancing.”

  He tensed at her nearness. Did he think she would bite? “What’s wrong with seeing a movie?”

  “I can go to a movie back home.”

  “You can go dancing, too.”

  She shook her head. “I am not allowed.”

  “To dance?”

  “If I took a chaperon, I would be permitted. My aunt Gabriella went with me once. She has a big heart but a mean bulldog face, and the boys would not ask me to dance.”

  He laughed.

  Gina stared down at her red fingernails. He did not understand how strict her parents were.

  “I’m sorry I laughed.” He touched her knee where she had made a tear in her jeans. “I thought you were kidding.”

  She looked up to find pity in his eyes. It made her angry and she looked away again.

  “So what do you do all day back home?” he asked, and it was hard to stay mad while he still touched her. He had not removed his hand, and she prayed this meant he would no longer treat her so distantly.

  “I have not been home from school long. Only two months. I read a lot. Some books like War and Peace and all the Jane Austens I have read twice.” She shrugged. “I cook and sew. Mama does not know about the dresses and skirts I made for my trip.”

  A grin tugged at his mouth. “I figured as much.” And then he got his serious look. “You went to college and then graduate school. Why aren’t you joining the workforce?”

  She frowned. “What is this force?”

  He smiled. “Why don’t you get a job?”

  “That would be worse than going dancing without my chaperon!”

  “I don’t get it. You’re obviously very bright and you understand business. Why did you bother going to school if you weren’t going to use what you learned?”

  “You sound like my papa.” That was the only time she had stood up to him. After college, he had forbidden her to go on to graduate school. She had begged and pleaded, and finally demanded.

  She sighed and uncrossed her legs. Her right foot had gone to sleep and she massaged it until feeling came back. “Do you want more wine?”

  He shook his head.

  Grabbing her empty glass, she got up and went to the wet bar for the bottle of chardonnay she had opened earlier.

  “I’m not criticizing you. Or your family. I’m frustrated, that’s all.”

  She brought the bottle with her and stared quizzically at him as she settled back on the couch. “Why would you be frustrated?”

  “Because I care about you. And I don’t—”

  “You do?”

  “Of course I do.” He took the bottle from her and filled his glass halfway.

  She grinned. It was nice to hear him say he cared.

  “What?” he said.

  She refilled her glass and then set the wine aside. “Maybe you could show me more about the business.”

  He laughed. “You probably know more than I do.”

  Pride surged through her. What he said was not true, but that he would think it at all pleased her. “Sometimes I listen to Papa talk on the phone in his office or I visit the wine maker, but that is all.” She shrugged. “I know very little.”

  His expression grew somber. “Are you serious about learning more?”

  “Oh, yes. I could go to the office with you in the mornings and then—”

  He held up a hand, doubt in his eyes. “What about your uncle? What would he say?”

  Always it was about what the family would say. Of which she was equally guilty. “He has lived in America a long time. He is used to a big city and modern ways. He does not care that I wear jeans or paint my fingernails.”

  “But he cares what your mother and father think.”

  She sighed and said something in Italian the nuns had spanked her for in eighth grade. “Zio Antonio does not have to know everything we do.”

  He coughed. “Amen to that.”

  “I will go to the office with you tomorrow, yes?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve got to think about it.”

  “Before Zio Antonio wakes up.”

  Michael looked unconvinced. “What about the others? Augie and Lorenzo will wonder what you’re doing there.”

  “Those two start work before ten?” She grunted and waved a hand. “I do not think so.”

  He tried to hide his amusement, but the way his lips twitched before he flattened them gave him away. S
he was beginning to read him well. Like when his eyes became greener when he was angry and darker when he was aroused. Dark was good. She wanted to see them like that again soon.

  He still seemed hesitant, but he finally said, “Okay, maybe for a couple of hours tomorrow you can go in with me.”

  “It is a date.” She lifted her wineglass in the air and took a sip.

  He glanced heavenward. “No, it’s not.”

  She laughed. “And tonight?” After setting down her glass, she inched closer to him. “What will we do tonight?”

  His gaze stayed on her glass. “Haven’t you had enough chardonnay?”

  “You should know better, Michael.” She pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen onto his forehead. “Wine is like water to us. I have had a glass every weekend I was home from school since I was ten.”

  His eyebrows drew together and he stared at her in a most peculiar way. This new shade of green in his eyes she did not recognize. “Are you going to let your children do that?”

  Startled, Gina could only stare back. She had not thought about children. Of course she knew she would have them; there was no question she would give her parents the grandchildren they wanted. But it was nothing she expected Michael to wonder about.

  Nor did she want to think about it right now. The thought reminded her of what awaited her in Tuscany. A dull boring life married to a dull boring man who cared about only grapes and profit margins.

  For the first time the idea of spending the rest of her life in an arranged, loveless marriage overwhelmed her, frightened her in a way she could not explain. Panic gripped her heart. It had been far easier to accept her parents’ wishes before she had come to New York and tasted freedom.

  Before she had met Michael.

  “Hey, earth to Gina.”

  She blinked. “I do not want to talk about marriage or children.”

  “Whoa! Who said anything about marriage?”

  “You must be married to have children, yes?”

  “Not necessarily, but anyway, my question was more social commentary than anything else.”

  “It does not matter. I do not want to—” She stopped, confused. “What does this mean, social commentary?”

  “It means I was making a point about how child rearing has changed. How it may not be a good idea to introduce children to alcohol at such an early age.”

  “Will you have children?”

  He seemed startled. “Sure. Someday.”

  “Soon?”

  “I thought we were trying to decide which movie to see.” He stuck his nose in the newspaper again. “We’d better choose one pretty damn quick or it’ll be too late to go out.”

  “Not for dancing.”

  “Gina, what did I tell you?”

  “Fine.” She set aside her glass. “If you do not want to go, I will go by myself.”

  “Right.”

  She got up from the couch and tossed back her hair. “If you are worried about Zio Antonio, he will not know I went out into the city alone.”

  “You’re not going anywhere without me. And I say no dancing.”

  She headed for her bedroom to change.

  “Gina! I mean it.”

  “You can let yourself out, Michael,” she called over her shoulder, grinning when she heard him curse.

  “Gina!”

  She got to her room and closed the door. The blue dress she had selected earlier hung on the valet. Kicking off her shoes, she unzipped her jeans and wondered why Michael had not knocked yet. Had he left? He would not let her go out alone, would he?

  It did not matter. All she had to do was give the cabdriver the address. She had American money and a credit card. As Mike would say, no sweat.

  She got out of her jeans and shirt and shimmied into the dress. After a week of wearing skimpy clothes, she decided they were not so fun, after all. Definitely not practical. She had to worry too much about how she sat and crossed her legs, and having to skip dinner twice in three days did not make her happy. She still hated the baggy black dresses, but a simple woman’s business suit would be nice. Tomorrow maybe Michael would take her shopping again. After they went to the office. The idea of sitting at his desk with him, learning what happens after the wine is bottled and shipped, appealed to her more than she would have guessed. Maybe because Michael thought she was smart and competent enough to understand the business.

  If only her papa could see such things.

  She would not think about that now, though. Tonight she wanted only to dance. With Michael, if he was not so stubborn.

  She listened by the door but heard nothing. He could have left already. After brushing her teeth and hair, she applied fresh pink lipstick. Her palms had gotten clammy, but she told herself it would be okay to go alone.

  Only one pair of shoes went with the blue dress, so she slipped them on and then checked her reflection one last time. Everything was in order except her unhappy expression. Dancing would not be fun without Michael.

  Maybe she would wait another night… Or maybe he believed she would not go without him.

  The thought annoyed her.

  She opened the door.

  Michael stood in the hall. “Are we going dancing or not?”

  10

  THE CHIC FIFTH AVENUE club was crowded with the city’s beautiful people. The live music was awesome. Mike couldn’t remember hearing a better local band. His beer was a new microbrew, dark and hearty, just the way he liked it. Gina looked gorgeous as usual, turning heads even here, where every third woman was a showstopper.

  Everything might have been damn near perfect if only he knew how to dance. He had no rhythm. Not for the fast songs. No way would he get out on the floor and swing his arms around like a jackass.

  Most of the guys dancing didn’t look all that hot out there. But he didn’t care. He had no intention of making a fool of himself. Especially not in front of Gina.

  Even though they sat side by side in a booth and were obviously together, she’d been asked to dance several times, had three drinks sent to her and was constantly ogled. She pretty much ignored the attention. Her interest seemed to lie in checking out other women’s shoes.

  And in him.

  She’d rest her hand on his thigh and lean against him when they tried to talk over the music. She smelled so damn good it was hard to keep in mind he was her chaperon, no different from her aunt, even if Gina didn’t see it that way. It didn’t matter. He knew the score. She was off-limits. He couldn’t let himself slip up again.

  Mike would be a liar if he denied that it gave him a rush to be with her in a place like this. Hell, anywhere. She was the perfect female package, and she acted as if he was the only man in the room. Intoxicating stuff.

  “Michael?” She touched his arm and leaned so close her warm breath seeped into his skin. “Are we ever going to dance?”

  “Later.”

  She looked at her watch. “You said that an hour ago.”

  “I’m waiting for the right song.”

  “You said that, too.” She paused. “Do you not want to dance with me?”

  “It’s not that.” Even in the dim lighting he could see hurt in her eyes. “Look, I can’t dance this fast stuff.”

  “Oh.” Her longing gaze went back to the dance floor. “They play slow songs.”

  “Maybe you should go ahead and dance with one of these other guys.”

  Hurt flickered in her eyes again. “I do not want to dance with any of them. I want to dance with you.”

  What a jerk. He knew she’d say that. Hell, he wanted her to say it. He’d hate to see her out there with another guy. “Okay, the next slow song.”

  Her lips lifted in a beautiful smile. “I will be right back.”

  “Gina…”

  She slid out of the booth before he could stop her and headed into the crowd. He sure hoped she was only going to the bathroom. Of course, it wasn’t as if she could go far.

  Within three minutes she was back, wearing a pl
eased smile that made him nervous. This time when she slid in next to him, she didn’t leave an inch of space between them. He kind of liked the possessive hand she put on his arm, and the way she tilted her head back to look at him.

  He wanted to kiss her. The invitation was written all over her face, across her glistening lips. But he’d worked too hard all week to keep his distance. He wouldn’t blow it now. “Where’d you go?”

  “You will see.”

  He sighed. She was back in his sight. That’s all that mattered. His gaze returned to the dance floor. Safer not to look at her.

  “Michael?”

  “Yeah?” He signaled the waitress when she glanced their way. A wise man would switch to coffee or cola. Mike figured he’d have just one more beer.

  “Why do you not dance?”

  He shrugged. “I just never have.”

  “Not even while you were in school?”

  “I was busy studying or playing baseball or taking karate lessons. And then I started working when I was sixteen, so I had even less time for a social life.”

  “Why have you not talked about your father?”

  Mike tensed at the unexpected mention of his father. The music stopped, and couples wandered back to their seats or to stand at the bar. The band picked a hell of a time to take a break. “I never knew him.”

  Luckily the waitress arrived to take their order. Gina had barely touched her cabernet and declined. Mike requested another beer.

  She placed a hand on his thigh and he wondered if she had any idea how close her fingers were to the playground. “Did he die when you were very young?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I am so sorry. I did not…” She frowned. “I do not understand.”

  Damn. He should have let it go. Just said yes, that the guy had died. He didn’t want to explain, but he didn’t want her upset, thinking she’d said something wrong. It wasn’t her fault his father was a no-good bum who’d walked out on his wife and baby son.

  “He didn’t die. He may be dead by now for all I know.” Mike drained the last of his beer. “I guess he didn’t like the responsibility of having a family.”