Temptation's Song

“Not even close,” Elle admitted, her gaze flitting from Patrice’s face to Belana’s. Both women leaned toward her so that they wouldn’t miss a word she was about to say. “First of all, he’s taller than I imagined he would be. How many tall men have you seen since we’ve been in Italy?”

“They’re not that short,” Belana said in defense of Italian men. “Several have been taller than I am.”

“You’re only five four,” said Patrice. “Anyway,” she added, turning her attention back to Elle, “he has an African-American mother, doesn’t he? He probably got his height from her side of the family. What happened after your audition?”

“He told me he thought I was talented, and then he laughed at me when I told him I didn’t have an agent. He treated me like a not-so-bright child. I felt like an amateur telling him I negotiated my own contracts.”

“I’ve been telling you for years that you need an agent,” Belana said. She went into her purse and withdrew her BlackBerry. “I’m sending Fred a message. He can represent you.”

Patrice sniffed derisively. “Fred? He’s a pussycat compared to my agent, Blanca. This is Elle’s big chance. She needs Blanca.”

“Blanca Mendes is a shark in designer shoes,” Belana accused.

“Yeah, she wears nice things because her clients always get good deals. Face it, Belana. If you weren’t already rich, you would want her to represent you, too. It just so happens that you’re a dancer because you love it, not because it’s your way of putting food on the table.”

“I’m a good dancer!” Belana cried, hurt.

“You’re the best dancer in your company,” Patrice readily admitted. “That’s why it pains me that you’re not earning what you’re worth!”

Patrice was always interested in the bottom line. She had seen her parents struggling to keep the ranch going over the years. As one of four siblings, she had known what it felt like to wear discount-store clothes to school and have some of the more obnoxious kids look down on her. That’s why she worked so hard and why she had hired an agent who was a shark.

Belana sighed loudly and regarded Elle with a smile. “She’s right. Hire the shark.”

“What if she won’t represent me?” Elle asked innocently.

Belana and Patrice looked at each other and burst out laughing.

“Just mention Dominic Corelli’s name, stand back and watch the shark attack,” said Patrice.

The waiter brought their wine and served them.

Belana, who was more wine savvy than her friends, took a sip first and declared, “Not bad!”

The waiter smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”

“You speak English!” Elle cried, grinning.

“Of course,” he said with a naughty wink in Elle’s direction. He placed the wine bottle on the table. “I will return shortly with your fresh trout served with risotto and vegetables. My name is Paolo.”

“Thank you, Paolo,” Elle said.

He smiled at her again and left.

Belana shook her head in admiration and said, “He’s not too short for me!”

“But he is too young,” Patrice said. “He can’t be more than eighteen.”

“Isn’t that considered an adult in Italy?” asked Belana.

Belana and Patrice looked to Elle for the answer.

Elle hunched her shoulders. “I don’t know!” To which Patrice and Belana laughed.

“Finally,” said Belana. “A subject Elle knows nothing about.”

“Honestly, can we stay on the subject here?” Patrice complained, turning to Elle. “You said he was taller than you thought he would be. What else? You can’t have been in the room with a man that talented and good-looking without forming an opinion of him.”

Elle was remembering the sensuality with which Dominic Corelli moved. How his body, underneath his suit, had seemed so powerful. Warmth suffused her. “He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever met,” she emphatically stated. “I’m glad he’s going to be my boss because if he were just another unattached singer in the production, I would probably be tempted to date him.”

“Tempted to date him?” Patrice mimicked in a prim and proper tone. It was her opinion that Elle was too guarded with her emotions since she’d been dumped by her last boyfriend. She practiced her craft endlessly, professing to her friends that when her big break presented itself, she was damned well going to be ready for it. As a result of her dedication, she had no love life to speak of. “You don’t date a sexy beast, girl, you jump his bones!”

“Throw him down and have your way with him,” Belana offered, getting into the ribbing of Elle.

“Turn him on, rip his clothes off and see if he’ll salute,” said Patrice.

“And if he salutes, see if he can go the distance,” added Belana.

Elle laughed. “Keep dreaming, guys. You know I could never come on to a man like Dominic Corelli.”

“What if he comes on to you?” Patrice asked.

Elle was stumped. Excited by the prospect, but definitely without a notion of what she would do if Dominic Corelli actually admitted he wanted to sleep with her.

“Let me enjoy the fact that he wants me in his opera,” she told them. “The idea of his wanting me in his bed is beyond me.” She laughed. “Besides, believe me, he doesn’t see me as a potential sexual conquest. He’s already laughed at my ignorance and told me he’s the devil to work for. So, don’t go dreaming up sexy scenarios in your love-starved minds!”

“Love-starved,” said Belana, offended. “I’m dating two men. And Patty is fighting off the advances of every horny actor in Hollywood.”

Patrice laughed. “You’re exaggerating a bit, my dear. I really am love-starved. I haven’t been on a date in five months. You’re representing all of us when it comes to dating.”

Belana snapped her fingers at them. “I’ve got it like that!”

Elle and Patrice laughed at her. “She’s not at all humble about it,” observed Elle.

At that instant, Paolo arrived with a food-laden tray and served their meals with a flourish. “Enjoy!”

They did. Seasoned with savory spices, the trout was baked to perfection and the risotto, made with saffron, was a delicate, appropriate accompaniment to the fish.

When they were finished they called Paolo over, gave him a nice gratuity, for which he thanked them, and sent their compliments to the chef. Paolo waved to them as they walked away.

When they were nearly out of earshot he grinned and exclaimed, “Bella!”

Chapter 3

The next day, Dominic was in the office of his spacious apartment in Milan watching the performances of the previous day’s singers on a flat-screen TV. He wanted to make sure that choosing Elle Jones for the female lead had been the right decision. Maybe he had imagined the tone of her voice? After all, by the time she came along he was so tired of auditioning singers that he’d begun to pray to be delivered from the task. He could have latched onto any competent singer.

A competent singer wasn’t all he needed for this role. He needed a star, someone the audience would be instantly enamored with and continue to love from opening night to closing night.

When he got to Elle Jones’s performance and saw her walk onto the stage, he felt his stomach muscles painfully constrict. It was a reaction he’d stopped having at the sight of a beautiful woman when he was in his teens. The feeling was a mixture of anticipation and excitement with a bit of sexual desire thrown in.