Educating Gina Page 4

  Other options could keep her in Europe, as well. Antonio’s other brother, Dominic, headed the wine distribution in Paris, and the younger one, Pietro, handled the marketing and warehousing in Rome. Gina would do well on the sales side of things. What red-blooded man wouldn’t want to place an enormous order with her? Sexist, he knew, but it was the reality of the male-dominated business.

  So why did the idea annoy the hell out of him? Why his sudden interest in Gina’s future? He had enough to worry about keeping her out of trouble for the next month. And not getting himself fired.

  He plowed through the paperwork that couldn’t wait, left a voice mail for Robert to contact him as soon as he got back and then grabbed a cab and headed home. If he was going to spend the day in Central Park, it wouldn’t be in a suit.

  GINA SAT ON THE WINDOWSILL, staring down at the crowded sidewalk, watching the streams of people hurry to work. Many of the women wore suits and tennis shoes. An odd but practical combination, she figured, envious of their freedom of choice.

  She wished she owned a suit. Mama thought they looked too manly. As if the ugly black dresses she liked Gina to wear were not too grandmotherly.

  Sighing, she checked her watch. Would Mike ever show up? She hoped he was not angry about yesterday. All her courage had faded when she heard Zio Antonio outside the door, and she panicked. No harm had been done, though. Her uncle thought she had been in her room alone.

  She slid off the sill and adjusted her skirt. Wearing skirts so short was not easy. She was constantly tugging and pulling and trying not to feel self-conscious. Some of her school friends had encouraged her. They wore skirts equally short, some of them even in front of their parents.

  The knock at the door had her tripping over the unfamiliar high heels, and she hopped to the door on one leg, trying to adjust the fit. Before she opened it, she slipped the other shoe back on.

  Mike did not look happy, and her mood fell. “Gina, why didn’t you ask who it was before you opened the door?”

  She shrugged, more interested in the snug fit of his jeans and black T-shirt. “I knew it was you. Zio Antonio said you were coming.”

  His gaze ran down the front of her, something in his eyes making her get hot and prickly. “Since I didn’t call from downstairs for you to buzz me in, you should have been more cautious. Next time find out who it is before you unlock the door. New York is not the safest place.”

  “Why are you trying to frighten me?”

  “I’m just trying to make you more aware.” He walked in and locked the door behind him. “Your uncle told me you wanted to go to Central Park.”

  “Oh, yes. The sky is so blue and pretty. It would be a perfect day, yes?”

  His eyebrows dipped in a frown. “Then why are you dressed like that?”

  She looked down at the pink blouse tied at her waist and denim miniskirt. “You do not like this outfit, either?”

  “I like it fine, but not for a day in the park. What if you want to sit in the grass?”

  “I do not have any pants,” she murmured, and looked away.

  “Pardon me?”

  “Mama does not think women should wear pants.”

  Mike laughed. “And she would want you to wear this?”

  His amusement fueled her embarrassment. Sometimes her parents’ old-fashioned attitude made her ashamed. “No, but I sewed this myself in secret. Pants are harder and take longer to make.”

  Surprise, then understanding flickered in his eyes, and he smiled. “How would you like a pair of jeans?”

  “Oh, yes. The kind with a ripped knee or—”

  He chuckled. “Let’s get a whole pair for now, okay?”

  WHY DID HE SET himself up for this kind of torture? Mike had never had masochistic tendencies before now. Why had he foolishly thought shopping would be easy with a woman who looked like Gina?

  “What about these?” She pranced out of the dressing room and twirled around so that he wouldn’t miss the back view. “Do you like them?”

  The faded denim was skintight and accentuated her narrow waist and full hips. Her belly was remarkably flat, considering how he’d seen her wolf down the entire cheeseburger and fries yesterday. Her rear end was round and perfect and begged for a man’s hands—his hands—to mold themselves over the taut curves.

  “Mike, are you all right?” she asked, a worried frown wrinkling her brow.

  As soon as his heart started again, he’d be fine. “I like the other pair better.”

  “But they were too baggy.”

  Exactly. “Can you even sit down in those?”

  She grinned and walked toward him. “Do you want to see?”

  Mike held up a hand. “Never mind.”

  No telling what she’d do. He was sitting in the only seat outside the women’s dressing room, which made his lap the likely target for her demonstration. Oh, yeah, that would be great. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t attracted enough attention from the other Bloomingdale shoppers.

  Both men and women eyed Gina as she modeled the different styles of jeans. She seemed oblivious to the mixture of envy and admiration in their stares. She was too excited about the whole prospect of shopping.

  “I have one more pair to try on.” She spun toward the dressing-room door, then stopped and asked, “May I have two pairs? Per piacere…please?”

  If he said no, two guys, who hadn’t once taken their eyes off her, would probably gladly buy her anything she wanted. A woman about his age who’d overheard Gina gave Mike a hostile look as if he was a vile controlling husband.

  “Fine. Just hurry up.” He stood and got out his wallet. Antonio had given him a nice piece of change. Enough for the jeans and a dress—an appropriate dress, like maybe a muumuu. Hell, Mike would gladly pay for it himself.

  She came out to show him the third pair, which looked so much like the last pair that he didn’t know she’d changed. At Gina’s request, the saleswoman cut off the tags so she could wear them out of the store.

  After their purchases were wrapped and paid for, they headed for the escalator. They got as far as the lingerie department. Gina stopped and stared at the red and black silk G-strings on display.

  Fear gripped the back of Mike’s neck. “Come on. We’re going to be late.”

  Her eyes widened. “Central Park closes?”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  Gina sidled up and took him by the arm. “Can we not stay for ten more minutes?”

  He darted a look at the mannequin wearing the G-string and tried not to think about the way Gina rubbed the inside of his arm.

  “Per piacere.” She made her lips look pouty. “I mean, please.”

  “Just ten minutes.”

  “I promise.” She smiled and then kissed his cheek.

  An innocent touch that threatened a major hard-on. Oh, man, he was in bad shape. No way was he going to stand around and watch her select underwear. “I’ll wait for you on the first floor.”

  Her expression fell. “Why?”

  “Because I have something to do down there.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew some money. “Here.”

  “Grazie, but I have my own money.” She lifted her chin and headed in the direction of the G-strings.

  What had he done wrong? “Ten minutes,” he called. “At the bottom of the escalator.”

  She waved without turning around, which was good enough for him. Let her get her G-string or whatever. He didn’t have to know what she wore under her clothes. And he didn’t have to subject himself to watching her select it.

  He used the time to go to the washroom and splash his face with cold water. On the way back to the escalator, he stopped at the men’s cosmetic counter and squirted himself with one of the testers. The stuff smelled nasty, and he let out a rude grunt that netted him several stares. No wonder he never wore any of that junk.

  With a minute to spare he arrived at the escalator. No sign of Gina yet. Not that he expected her to be early. She’d been like a kid
in a candy store all morning, excited by simply trying on sunglasses. She’d explained that her mother didn’t allow unchaperoned shopping, which basically meant it wasn’t worth going.

  Such strict rules and morals were hard to understand. Particularly since Gina seemed to be a good girl, genuinely concerned about what her parents and uncle thought. Even the way she’d wanted to dress had more to do with normal and healthy rebellion than attracting male attention.

  That was the thing that floored Mike the most. She didn’t even get how hot she was, or that men tripped over themselves watching her walk across the street. She was more interested in gawking at shop windows and staring at young women with blue hair and navel rings.

  He checked his watch. Eighteen minutes. No sign of her coming down the escalator. He’d give her another two and then drag her out of the store.

  After another five minutes, he took the escalator steps two at a time up to the lingerie department. He didn’t see her, and flagged a saleswoman.

  “I’m looking for my friend,” he said. “Petite, dark hair, pretty—”

  She smiled. “Italian accent?”

  “That’s her.” The relief he felt was ridiculous. She was probably still in a fitting room.

  “Yes, she went that way.” The woman pointed in the opposite direction of the escalator. “With two other gentlemen.”

  4

  “WE WERE SUPPOSED to meet at the bottom of the escalator a half hour ago.” Mike blew into his clammy palms. “Are the elevators and escalators the only ways to get to the first floor?”

  The security guard nodded. “For shoppers.”

  “What do you mean? Are there stairs we haven’t checked?”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Mason.” The older man glanced at the notes he’d taken so far. “We have a good description of her. We’ll find your daughter. How old did you say she is?”

  “Twenty-three,” Mike muttered.

  “What?”

  “I never said she was my daughter.”

  The man closed his notebook and glared. “Is this some kind of joke? We’re talking about a grown woman, not a kid?”

  Mike shook his head. “No, definitely not. She’s new to the city—”

  “So are a third of the people in this store.” The security guard crossed his arms over his big round belly. “I ought to have you arrested.”

  “That’s absurd. On what charge?”

  “Anything happens in this store, like a theft or something, while you have us distracted, and I gotta believe you were in on it.”

  Mike groaned. The guy had one hell of an imagination. “Look, I’m telling you the truth. She’s Italian and she doesn’t speak much English.”

  “Guess what, pal? Half the people who live in the city don’t speak English.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Mike!”

  At the sound of her voice, he spun around.

  She ran to him and threw her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest.

  “Gina, are you okay?” He held her tightly and stroked her back when she refused to release him.

  She mumbled something in Italian but wouldn’t look up.

  Another security guard, tall and lanky, walked over and stood beside them. “She’s fine,” he said, exchanging a look with his paunchy co-worker then glancing around at the gathering crowd. “She just had a little fright, is all.”

  “Those two guys have anything to do with it?” Mike asked, a fury rising in him he didn’t know he possessed.

  She looked up. “They said you sent them to find me. That you had an accident.”

  Mike stared down at her pale face. “Did they hurt you?”

  She shook her head. “I punched the short skinny one.”

  He swallowed a startled laugh and then glanced at the taller security guard. “Did you catch them?”

  The man’s grim face was answer enough. “If you want to file a report, let’s go to the office.”

  “No.” Gina straightened and stepped away from Mike. “We are going to Central Park.”

  “But, Gina—”

  “They ran. You will not catch them. And if Zio Antonio finds out what happened, I will be on a plane back to Italy.”

  She had a point. Mike looked at the security guard again. The man shrugged. The other one was trying to break up the interested group of onlookers.

  “I want to go now, please.” Her accent was heavier, probably because she was upset. In her eyes was an odd mixture of pleading and determination. Her mind was clearly made up.

  “Okay, but you stick close to me. Got it?”

  She nodded enthusiastically and slipped her arm through his.

  He pulled her closer still, unsure of what he was more afraid of—her or the unknown.

  “I WANT ANOTHER hot dog.” Gina dug into the pocket of her jeans for money. “And a Coca-Cola with lots of ice.”

  “You’re going to be sick.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Why?”

  “Because you’ve already had two Cokes, a hot dog and popcorn.”

  “Yes, and?” She passed the vendor her money and then doused her hot dog with mustard and relish.

  She had the most incredible appetite for a woman, especially one her size. Of course she did a good job of burning off calories. He got winded just watching her play Frisbee with the two twelve-year-old boys they’d met earlier. She ran and dove for her catches as if the free world depended on her.

  No wonder she was in such excellent shape. The woman could move. Hell, she’d even gotten him off his ass to catch a few throws.

  She took a big bite of the hot dog and ended up with mustard on the tip of her nose. He got it off with his thumb. She smiled and took a gulp of Coke. Not Diet Coke, but the real stuff.

  That was another thing he liked about her. How she did everything with such gusto, totally unselfconscious. There was no worrying about how she looked or acted. When she got excited about something, the whole world knew it, and she didn’t seem to care.

  And God knows, she got excited a lot. Her accent would get thick and she’d throw in a few Italian words. Mike understood some of them from listening to Antonio and his two brothers-in-law, Augie and Lorenzo, talking at the office.

  “Let’s go find some shade.” He carried the bag with her skirt and the other pair of jeans they’d bought.

  The sack with her lingerie purchase got lost in the scuffle she’d had with the two men, and Mike had to ruthlessly push the reminder aside. There was nothing he could do except get angrier than he could remember ever getting in his life.

  It wasn’t only about being responsible for her welfare on Antonio’s behalf. But the idea that her trust and innocence could be stolen by two low-life jerks made his blood boil. That it could happen practically under his nose made him feel guilty as hell.

  But to her credit, she was resilient. She hadn’t let the incident affect her mood. When Mike had mentioned how admirably she was handling things, she’d looked at him with round trusting eyes and said she’d never be frightened with him near to keep her safe.

  Fool that he was, his ego had inflated like a balloon. And then headed straight back to guilt. What if something had happened to her? What if—

  “We will sit here?” She stopped at an oak tree, its roots bulging from the ground. But that didn’t stop her from finding a narrow spot in the grass.

  She plunked down and then patted the area beside her. He didn’t have much choice. He settled in close. Too close.

  “I like Central Park very much.” She smiled at him. “We can come again, yes?”

  “I don’t know. You wear me out.”

  She frowned.

  “I’m kidding.”

  “Oh.” She took the last bite of her hot dog and wiped her mouth.

  His gaze lingered on her lips. Moist and peach-colored, they alone got his adrenaline pumping. Her tongue darted out to swipe a tiny crumb from the corner of her mouth, and he had to look away.

  “What ki
nd of exercise do you do?”

  He brought his gaze back to meet her curious eyes. “Exercise?”

  She nodded. “Everyone needs to exercise.”

  “I get enough running around the office.”

  She made a face. “That is not the same thing.”

  “I work a lot of hours. I don’t have time.”

  “Does my uncle work you that hard?”

  Mike snorted. “I work me that hard.”

  “That is not good,” she said, shaking her head with concern. “Do you swim?”

  He shrugged. “I haven’t for a while.”

  She extended her hands behind her and leaned back. The reclining position showed off her flat belly and made her breasts jut out. “Tomorrow, we will swim.”

  Amused at her confidence, he asked, “Where?”

  “You do not know of a place?” She frowned, and then her eyes brightened. “Coney Island. I read about it on the airplane.”

  He hadn’t been there in years. “Maybe.”

  “Why maybe?”

  “Because I have a lot of work to catch up on. I thought you could go to the library for the morning and—”

  She groaned. “I can go to the library at home. I want to see New York.”

  Great. “We can’t go out every minute.”

  “Why not?”

  He laughed. “Look, how about if you go to the office with me and use my computer while I get some paperwork out of the way, and then we’ll spend the afternoon out.”

  “At Coney Island?”

  “I was thinking a museum. The Guggenheim?”

  “Oh, yes, that is on my list.”

  “Oh, great, you have a list.” He sighed. “You have any rest time on that list?”

  She laughed. “Come,” she said, sitting up straight and then scooting backward until her back rested against the tree trunk.

  “Where?”

  “Here.” She tugged at his sleeve until he leaned toward her. “Closer.”

  What the hell was she doing? Knowing it was trouble, he shifted his butt a foot closer.