Italian Mavericks: In The Italian's Bed: Leonetti's Housekeeper Bride / Inherited by Ferranti / Best Man for the Bridesmaid. Кейт Хьюит
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dated clingy airheads because they did as they were told, accepted his workaholic schedule and made few demands.
Noticing a ‘help wanted’ sign in the window of a café she called in, enjoyed an interview on the spot and was hired to work a shift that very evening. Relieved to have solved the problem of being broke, she returned to the town house by the separate entrance at the side and proceeded to mess up Gaetano’s basically unused kitchen with her baking session. She settled the cake into the cake carrier she had bought for the purpose and set the birthday card on top of it before going to get changed.
She wore a tartan skirt with black lace stockings and high heels. Gaetano wolf-whistled the instant he saw her. ‘Wow...’ he breathed with quiet masculine appreciation. ‘Your legs are to die for...’
‘Really?’ Poppy grinned and then frowned doubtfully. ‘Is this phase one of the Italian seduction routine?’
‘You’re very suspicious.’
‘I don’t trust you,’ Poppy told him truthfully. ‘I think being sneaky would come naturally to you.’
‘I’ve never had to be sneaky with women,’ Gaetano told her truthfully.
* * *
The drawing room was crowded with guests when they arrived. The instant Poppy saw the fancy cocktail-type frocks and delicate jewellery that the other women sported and the stares that her informal outfit attracted, she paled in dismay. She stuck out like a sore thumb and hated the feeling, squirming discomfiture taking her by storm and reminding her of her days at school when no matter how hard she’d tried she had always failed to fit in. Remembering that Gaetano had urged her to be herself was not a consolation because her unconventional appearance had to be an embarrassment to him. How could it be anything else?
Gaetano’s grandfather made a major production out of welcoming them and announcing their engagement. Poppy’s guilt over their deception sent colour flying into her cheeks but she saw only satisfaction in Gaetano’s brilliant smile and from it she deduced that everything was going the way he had planned.
But Poppy was wrong in that assumption. She served Rodolfo with the strawberry layer cake with mascarpone-cheese icing that was his favourite and which she had learned to bake at his wife’s side. His eyes went all watery and he gave her an almost boyish grin as he took up the cake knife she passed him and cut himself a large helping.
‘So, when’s the big day?’ he asked Poppy within Gaetano’s hearing.
Gaetano tensed. ‘We haven’t set a date as yet...’
‘You don’t want to risk a treasure like Poppy getting away,’ his grandfather warned him softly, shrewd eyes resting on his grandson’s lean, darkly handsome face. ‘I don’t believe in long engagements.’
‘We don’t want to rush in either,’ Poppy remarked carefully, instinct sending her to Gaetano’s rescue.
‘Next month would be a good time for me before I head off to Italy for the summer,’ Rodolfo pointed out calmly.
‘We’ll talk it over,’ Gaetano fielded smoothly.
‘And when you get back from your honeymoon,’ the old man delivered cheerfully, ‘it will be as CEO.’
Gaetano nodded, thoroughly disconcerted and fighting not to betray the fact that he knew that his promotion was now a marriage step away from him. He studied Poppy from below his black lashes. Against all the odds, Rodolfo adored her. Trust Poppy to bake his grandmother’s signature cake. She couldn’t have done anything more likely to please and impress. She had ticked his grandfather’s every box. Not only was she beautiful, kind and thoughtful, she could actually cook. Gaetano experienced a hideous ‘hoist with his own petard’ sensation and wondered how the hell he was going to climb back out of the hole he had dug.
‘WHY ARE YOU in such a hurry?’ Gaetano frowned as Poppy sped away from him towards the bedroom. His grandfather had outmanoeuvred him and he needed to have a serious conversation with his fake fiancée.
‘I have to get changed and get out in the next...er...ten minutes!’ she exclaimed in dismay, hastening her step after checking her watch.
Gaetano took his time about strolling down to the bedroom where Poppy was engaged in pulling on a pair of jeans, lithe long legs topped by a pair of bright red knickers on display. Her face flushing, she half turned away, wriggling her shapely hips to ease up the jeans. The enthusiastic stirring at his groin was uniquely unwelcome to Gaetano at that moment. ‘Where do you have to be in ten minutes?’ he asked quietly.
‘Work. I picked up a waitressing shift at the café round the corner. I’ll be back by midnight,’ she told him chirpily.
In the doorway, Gaetano went rigid, convinced that he could not have heard her correctly. ‘You applied for a job as a waitress...’ his dark deep drawl climbed tellingly in volume and emphasis as he spoke that word ‘...while you’re pretending to be engaged to me?’
‘Why not? Bartending is better paid but the café was closer and the hours are casual and flexible and that would probably suit you better.’
Brilliant dark eyes landed on her with the chilling effect of an ice bath. ‘You working as a waitress doesn’t suit me in any way.’
‘I don’t see why you should object,’ Poppy reasoned, thrusting her feet into her comfy ankle boots. ‘I mean, you’re still working and what am I supposed to do with myself while you’re busy all day? It’s not even as if pretending to be your fiancée is a full-time job.’
‘As far as I’m concerned, it is full-time and you will go to the café now and tell them that you’re sorry but you won’t be working there tonight,’ Gaetano told her with raking impatience. ‘Diavelos! Do I have to spell every little thing out to you? I’m a billionaire banker. You can’t work in a café or a bar for peanuts while you’re purportedly engaged to me!’
An angry flush had lit up Poppy’s cheeks. ‘Then what am I supposed to do for money?’
‘If you need money, I’ll give it to you,’ Gaetano declared, pulling out his wallet, relieved that the problem could be so easily fixed. But seriously, where was her brain? Working as a waitress while living in a mansion?
Poppy backed away a step and then snaked past him in the doorway to trudge down to the hall. ‘I don’t want your money, Gaetano. I work for my money. I don’t take handouts from anyone.’
‘But I’m the exception to that rule,’ Gaetano slotted in grimly as he followed her with tenacious resolve. ‘While you are engaged to me, you are not allowed to embarrass me by working in a low-paid menial job.’
Outraged by that decree, Poppy whirled round to face him again, the hank of hair from her ponytail falling over her shoulder in a bright colourful stream. ‘Is that a fact?’ she prompted. ‘Well, I’m sorry, you’re out of luck on this one. As far as I’m concerned, any kind of honest work is preferable to living off charity and I don’t care if you think waitressing is menial—’
‘We have a deal!’ Gaetano raked at her with raw bite. ‘You’re breaking it!’
‘At no stage did you ever mention that I would not be able to take paid work,’ Poppy flung back at him in furious denial. ‘So, don’t try to deviously change the rules to suit yourself. I’m sorry if you see me working as a waitress at Carrie’s coffee shop as a major embarrassment. Don’t you have enough status on your own account? Does it really matter what I do? I would remind you that I am an ordinary girl who needs to work to live and that’s not about to change for you or anyone else!’
‘It’s totally unnecessary for you to work...in fact it’s preposterous!’ Gaetano slammed back at her loudly, dark eyes flaring as golden as the heart of a fire now, his anger unconcealed. ‘Particularly