A Taste Of Pleasure

Toni stopped her and urged her to take a deep breath. His specialty was in fine wines from more established vineyards, vintners he knew personally. All had a reputation for the highest quality grapes, rich terroir, flawless production and generations of knowledge. It was a combination you could actually taste.

And as their distributor, he made sure they got the price they deserved. Discounts were for the Figgertons.

She was looking at him with doe eyes, as if she wanted to apologize for going somewhere else. It didn’t bother him that she didn’t come to him first. In fact, he was elated that he found an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. Toni was personally representing his friend’s rebuilt winery in Brazil. Getting it in front of the mayor could be excellent for business.

“Louis, bring the Deschamps.”

“But, sir—”

“I know, Louis. Let’s have a taste.” Louis darted to the back and Toni watched Andrea’s gaze travel down his front. He inwardly urged Louis to hurry.

“So.” Andrea stepped forward, letting her coat fall open to reveal a white low-cut T-shirt, with a tiny coffee stain on the front. “How have you been?”

Louis had a new glass on the bar and a bottle of Deschamps Cab Franc open and poured in seconds. Andrea looked at the bottle, then at Antonio.

“This is a Deschamps. I can’t do a fine wine, the bride will never go for it.”

“This one is from the smaller biodynamic vineyard in Brazil.”

Andrea gasped. “Didn’t they have a fire?”

“Yes, but they have risen out of the ashes like a phoenix. Taste it.” Toni leaned in as she lifted the glass to her lips. “There is a story in that wine any hippie would love.”

Andrea swallowed and tried to hide her satisfaction, a tactic he knew she used for negotiation, but Toni had seen the pleasure in her eyes. She signaled for one more taste, which Toni approved by a slight nod.

“Hmm,” was all she said as she stared at the bottle. The forest green label etched in gold writing with trademarks and family seals meant...cha-ching.

Andrea was still trying to play it cool, but her Uggs were shifting. “Is this all you have to show me?”

“Of course not, but I think it’s what you need to make your bride happy.”

“How much is in the back?”

“Enough for a wedding of, say, four hundred.” Louis began to fidget, wide-eyed.

“Price?”

Toni stepped forward, his smile on full wattage. “Bella, for you? I’ll make you a deal.”

Minutes later Toni was in the back grabbing his bags. The pit stop ran later than expected, but he still might be able to just make his flight. He breezed by his operations manager. “Marco that entire palate goes to Jean-Duc on Park Avenue right now.” Marco and his staff stopped packing the crate and frowned.

Louis skidded to a halt. “But we are shipping this to Bagatelle Miami tonight! And we have none left in the other warehouses.”

“I’ll call Destin, Louis. We’ll ship straight from his cellar in Brazil. I’ll call you later.”

Toni climbed into the car and shut the door, nodding at Louis’s anxious wave. He’d just sold more than expected of his friend’s wines and made a fortune on the up-charge he slid by Andrea. He should be happy, but all he could think about was getting home.

With literally minutes to spare, Toni stepped onto the boarding dock and heard the doors close behind him. Someone upstairs was looking after him today. He found his seat in first class and then placed his laptop bag on the floor, along with the several gifts he bought for Sophia.

“Coffee?” He took the cup and thanked the stewardess, then settled into the leather seat. He was about to put in his earbuds when a gray sweatshirt landed in the empty seat and he heard a soft thank-you to his right. A woman was standing by the seat, her arms extended as she rummaged in the overhead compartment. Her generous breasts quivered under her V-neck T-shirt which was tucked into a pair of high-waisted jeans.

Toni unfolded himself carefully from his seat, about to offer his help, when the woman slammed the compartment shut. He dragged his gaze from the curve of her hips in anticipation of seeing her face. He was met with large black sunglasses and a waterfall of dark hair that fell into her face and past her shoulders.

He folded himself back into his seat, still on alert if she needed anything. He decided to mind his own business, when a light pleasant fragrance teased his nose. From the corner of his eye he could see her twisting her hair into a ponytail, lifting her torso and chest up and out, and he found himself captivated. What was it about the way a woman moved?

Feeling like a pervert, he grabbed his coffee, only to glance back when he noticed her looking his way. She smiled. He smiled back, and then the pilot began to speak and the cabin readied for takeoff. The woman was lovely, but his thoughts had traveled to mocha-colored skin and floral tattoos. An occurrence that happened randomly and more frequently as the months went by. He assumed it was because his personal life had become a source of frustration. Dating wasn’t going as well as he’d hoped. He mused that he was no longer just looking for love; he was looking for a life partner. Stability. One who could also love his daughter and deal with his ex. It raised the stakes, and kind of killed the romance of it all.

When had love gotten so complicated? And when had he become so jaded? The old him would be flirting with his flight companion, instead he was avoiding her eyes.

The small cries of Dani’s orgasm rang in his ear and he downed another sip of his coffee He wished he could have seen her during this trip to New York City. He’d gotten in three days of work and a few visits to his favorite haunts, but today had been the day he looking forward to the most. He’d made his reservation at Via L’Italy months ago. Yes, it was one of the best restaurants in the city, but he was more interested in seeing Danica again and that was where she worked. He smiled as his thoughts drifted to their delicious night of champagne and sex almost a year ago. Waking up alone the next morning had been a jolt to his ego, but he wouldn’t change a thing about that night.

There’d been no rhyme or reason for his planned visit. He understood that she could be seeing someone, hell, he’d been dating quite a bit, but his intentions were not to have another one-night stand. He just wanted to see her.

Unfortunately he had to skip that reservation.

Toni began to feel very tired then. He didn’t know what he was going to say to Ava when he got home, not that she’d listen, but he had hours to figure it out.

Toni fished his phone from his pocket to turn it off and found three messages from his mother. Each was an update on their new restaurant project Via Olivia, a farm-to-table dining experience just outside of Milan, along with a list of things he needed to accomplish when he got back.

For generations, his family has been in the wine and restaurant business. There were no titles or job descriptions, just his mother, the matriarch of their large family, telling everyone what to do. If you were in the family, you worked for the family. Strangely enough it was successful. Lorenzetti restaurant group owned several restaurants throughout Italy, including a three-Michelin-starred restaurant in the center of Milan run by his uncle.

Although Toni had his wine business, he was also an active partner in the restaurant group. While he had a small stake in all of the restaurants, this new venture had been his idea. Five years of landscaping, gardening, designing the perfect villa, he had invested a lot of time and money into making it a success. And with his uncle overseeing the menu, Toni knew it would be fantastico. Just a week or two now and they would be open.

He quickly texted his mother back, then balked at the last text that came through.

Ava still hadn’t arrived home.

Toni turned off his phone and pinched his nose, praying the plane could make warp speed.

Chapter 5 (#u80bdb5eb-d2e3-5c2e-b5c4-843c38fad8c7)

Milan

Dani arrived at the Baglioni Hotel Carlton in the early morning but her mother had already left for work. A little jet-lagged, she ordered up a sizable pot of coffee and some pastries to the two-bedroom suite, then unpacked her toiletries and an outfit for the day. After some digging in her bursting bag, she hung up a dress in the closet for later, then decided that unpacking the rest of her bag could wait.

The rainfall shower in the black marble spa bathroom made her seven-hour red-eye worth it. She began to feel like a human again as the water slid over her skin. Milan. She hadn’t been back in years, not because she didn’t want to, but because running a kitchen in New York had proven as consuming as Chef Marcello had promised. Knowing Marcello was working, she planned to surprise him later that night and maybe get some life advice too.

Dani toweled off and let the high-thread-count towels caress her skin, lingering over her sensitive breasts as images of Toni Lorenzetti naked and thrusting into her took over her thoughts. Even as she and Andre had committed to each other—she’d thought—flashbacks of Toni were a spontaneous occurrence that she couldn’t help. Someone would smile and she’d see Toni. A tall man would walk through the door at the restaurant, she’d see Toni. She’d hear an accent, any accent. Toni. She chalked it up to the great sex because what other explanation could there possibly be?

He was here in Milan, she thought. She exited the bathroom and sat on the bed, running complimentary lotion over her legs. The soft duvet reminded her of the duvet they’d had no use for in Brazil. She’d woken up groggy from the champagne, her body aching from the high-octane sex, and warm from the humidity of the air and the heat of his body. She had slid from underneath his heavy arm, almost tripped over the pile of sheets on the floor, found her clothes and tiptoed out the door, and back to reality.

You could call it a walk of shame, but she hadn’t been ashamed. It had been a perfect night and she didn’t want the memories ruined by an awkward morning after. So she had left without saying goodbye to Toni Lorenzetti.

Which was why now, even in his gorgeous city, she wouldn’t be saying hello.

Dani put on her robe and strolled out onto the terrace overlooking Via della Spiga, one of the best shopping streets in the city. Designer logos on the buildings glittered and beckoned while severely fashionable men and women were already on the streets. A woman in camel-colored leather pants strolled by. Dani felt envy prickle her chest; they probably didn’t even make those in her size.

She hugged her robe closer, remembering that everyone in Milan looked and dressed like a supermodel. She recalled the suits hanging in Toni’s room—Cavalli, Brioni, Armani, all custom. She shook her head at the obsessive thoughts of a man she hadn’t seen in almost a year. She could see him with the girl wearing the leather pants, not with her. She was not fashionable, nor was she a supermodel. She was just a chef.