Romano's Revenge

“Nonna told me about the gift she gave you.”

Joe heaved a sigh. “She did, huh?”

“She means well,” Matthew said, and chuckled.

“It isn’t funny.”

“At least she seems to have backed away from the Get Joseph Married plan.”

“The good news and the bad news,” Joe said, and sighed again.

“Well, happy birthday, baby brother.”

“Thanks. And remind that gorgeous wife of yours that I’m available any time she’s ready to admit she made a mistake.”

“Keep dreaming.”

Joe laughed. “Have a good time in New York,” he said, and hung up the phone.

Okay. He felt a little better now. Still, he moved gingerly as he headed for the bathroom. A pair of aspirin would improve things.

Cautiously, he fingered the skin behind his ear where Blondie had hit him. A grin crept across his mouth.

Who’d have thought such a delicate-looking woman could have clobbered him like that?

Delicate, was right. Almost fragile. There hadn’t been much of her, when he’d held her in his arms. Well, that wasn’t true. She was small, and slender, but the package was nicely put together.

High, round breasts. A waist his hands could almost span. Good hips. A sweet, firm little butt. And long, long legs. He let his eyelashes droop to his cheeks as he thought about those legs, how it would feel to have them wrapped around him in a moment of blind, blazing passion….

“Oh, for God’s sake, Romano,” he muttered.

He stepped into the shower, turned the water on and gasped as the icy spray beat down on his head and shoulders. After a couple of minutes, he adjusted the temperature to something more reasonable.

That was better. Much, much better. So he’d acted like a jerk. Who cared? If there was one thing he’d learned early in life, it was not to look back and regret what you’d already done. A mistake was a mistake. You chalked it up to experience and moved on.

Actually, when he thought about it, he couldn’t blame the other guys for laughing. Joe’s mouth twitched as he worked shampoo into his hair. He’d have laughed, too, if he’d been the watcher instead of the watched. The kiss hadn’t meant a thing, not to him, not to Blondie, despite her protest. Not when you considered her choice of professions.

By the time Joe stepped out of the shower and grabbed for a towel, he was feeling a whole lot more cheerful. Cheerful enough to whistle softly through his teeth…

Right up until the moment the doorbell rang.

His good mood faded. Somebody at the door, now? On a weekend morning? Joe’s eyes narrowed. Nobody he knew was foolish enough to risk annihilation by turning up on his doorstep at such an ungodly hour.

Well, one person would. Joe grinned, knotted the towel around his hips and made his way downstairs. The bell rang again, just as he was opening the door.

“Matthew,” he said in a prissy, high-pitched voice, “I swear, if you can’t bear the idea of going away for a couple of days without first giving me a big, fat, juicy birthday kiss…”

But it wasn’t his brother on the porch, it was a woman. A small, slender woman clutching two huge shopping bags and with a suitcase at her feet. Her pale hair was skinned back so tightly it was a wonder her eyes weren’t on either side of her head. And those eyes—their color slightly blurred behind smoked, wire-rimmed glasses—those eyes were staring at him as if he were her worst dream come true.

As if he were standing there nearly naked, and waiting for another man’s juicy kiss.

Joe could feel heat shooting up into his face.

“Look, miss, this isn’t what—I mean, it isn’t—I mean, I’m not…” He hissed out a breath. What was he doing, explaining himself to a stranger? Any broad who went door to door at seven something on a Saturday morning had to take what she got, no excuses asked or given.

Funny, though. There was something about her. Something that made him think he’d met her before…

“Mr. Romano?”

Joe nodded. “Yes?”

“Mr. Joseph Romano?”

“That’s my name, honey. What do you want?”

Lucinda swallowed hard. Oh, this was fine. Just fine. She’d spent the entire night—well, most of it—pacing the floor of the bedroom she’d once called home, alternately wishing she’d done more than slug last night’s idiot and worrying about this morning’s interview, until, finally, she’d told herself to forget last night. It was over.

Today—this meeting—was what counted.

Then why was she standing on her new employer’s porch with her mouth hanging open and her brain on hold?

Say something, she told herself, something more than his name…But honestly, did he think this was a proper way to come to the door? Naked. Well, almost naked. And—and talking about juicy kisses from a man named Matthew—

“Lady?” Her prospective employer’s words dripped with impatience. “If you want something, you’d better spit it out.”

Lucinda’s eyes narrowed. Men. They were all alike, whether they were pretending to be superstuds like that jerk last night, or like this jerk this morning. One had thought nothing of grabbing her and kissing her, while this one figured it was perfectly fine to answer a door wearing nothing but a towel.

What did she want? For him to put on some clothes, for starters. He was so big. So tall. So broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped, and long-legged. That handsome, strong face. The ruffled black hair and sexy blue eyes…

And he liked men, who gave him big, fat birthday kisses.

A good thing, too. No way would she ever share a house with a man who looked like this. No way would she ever share a house with a man—a real man—at all. They were all sneaky, self-serving SOBs. Just look at the way her ex-fiancé had treated her. And that Neanderthal last night…

What had he looked like? Without her glasses, the man had been a blur. A big blur, but a blur, nevertheless. And it had all happened so quickly. Jumping from the cake. Her feet tangling. The man’s arms going around her. Hard arms, holding her against a hard body. His husky, teasing voice. That mouth, coming down on hers. Claiming hers. Heating hers…

Joe scowled. He folded his arms over his chest. “Lady, if you have something to say, say it. I haven’t got all day.”

Lucinda took a fortifying breath and fixed her gaze to his.

“I’m sorry. I, ah, I just wasn’t expecting…”

“Before you get yourself in gear, I already gave at the office.”

“You what?”

“I said, I’ve already donated to whatever you’re collecting for. Girl Scouts. Boy Scouts. Penguins in Peril. You name it, I gave to it. And if you want a bit of advice, lady—”

“Lucinda. Lucinda Barry. But—”