Controlled by the Mob, Tami Lund [ebook reader 7 inch .TXT] 📗

He nodded. “Her parents were running late. We were waiting for them so we could get started with the rehearsal. Which was at a church, by the way, so at least I know my ex-fiancée is most definitely not going to heaven. Anyway, when her parents finally arrived, I went looking for her, and found more than I bargained for.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Agreed. So I told her to screw herself—”

“Is that really the word you used?”

“Nope.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“Thanks. So I tracked down my parents, told them the wedding was cancelled, and I went home and grabbed my bag and headed up here. Alone.”

“Wow.” She took another drink. “You don’t seem terribly broken up.”

He lifted one shoulder, let it drop. “It was an arranged marriage.”

Her eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Yep. And trust me, that will never happen again. Business and sex should not mix.”

Chapter Four

She cleared her throat. “We haven’t even exchanged names. I’m Shannon.” She offered her hand to shake.

He slid his palm against hers, grasping her fingers, and shook as if she were a business associate and not a dainty woman. Not that she was dainty; on the contrary, she was taller than average, but that was how men generally treated her when they first met her.

“Leo. Well, Leonardo, but please, call me Leo. Pleasure to meet you, Shannon.” He snagged the bottle of champagne—sorry, sparkling wine—from the other table, topped off both their glasses, and placed it next to the picked over cheese tray spread out before her.

“Would you like some cheese? There isn’t much left, but you’re welcome to it.”

Before he could respond, the glass door opened, and Maureen bustled over, her arms laden with plates of food.

“I whipped this together from what was left over from dinner earlier,” the inn’s owner explained as she placed sliced meats, more cheese, crackers, fruits, and a freaking fondue pot of chocolate on their table.

“I like the dinners around here,” Leo quipped, which made Maureen blush and Shannon smile.

This was crazy.

And fun.

Unless he was a hell of an actor, Leo was nothing at all like the men who had come and gone in her life. He didn’t seem to care about her casual appearance, he wasn’t fazed by his failed-before-it-started marriage, and he accepted a no for what it was without any sort of cajoling.

In fact, the only red flag was his arranged marriage.

While Leo devoured the food Maureen brought out, Shannon leaned forward, her glass dangling from her fingertips. “What do you do for a living, Leo?”

He raised a finger while he finished chewing the cheese- topped cracker he’d popped into his mouth, then chased it with a swig of wine.

“That sounds like you’re trying to figure out if I have money.”

She fell back against her chair. “What? I don’t care about your money.” Why was she suddenly so indignant?

“No? What if I told you I don’t have a job? Or any money?”

“I’d say you’re a liar because as I’m staying here, I know how expensive this place is. And arranged marriages only happen in very wealthy, influential, and/or powerful families.”

“Ah. So you come from my world, do you?”

She had just reached for her glass as he said it. Her hand jerked, and the flute would have tumbled to a fate as a pile of shattered crystal on the flagstones if he hadn’t reacted quickly and grabbed it. Unfortunately, his save resulted it him getting doused with sparkling wine.

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry.” She swiped up her napkin and dabbed at his drenched shirt.

“It’s okay, it’s just a T-shirt. I have half a dozen more upstairs. I’ll be right back.”

Before she could suggest he simply take it off so she could admire those muscles that the wet shirt was now plastered to, he jumped up and hurried inside.

Which was just as well. The guy was coming off what had to be a humiliating experience, and she had no earthly idea how to respond to a man who wasn’t a client anymore, so the last thing that needed to happen was the two of them, alone, with him half naked.

She might actually consider having sex for reasons that weren’t associated with cold, hard cash. Or, credit card transactions, as it were.

As soon as he returned, she filled his glass, emptying the bottle of sparkling wine. “No, you can have it,” he said, pushing the flute into her hand.

“I still have my wine over here,” she pointed out.

“Okay, fine.” He sat. “But if you’d rather have this, I can ask Maureen to bring another bottle.”

She lifted her glass of cab franc. “I’m good.”

“Okay, so where were we? Oh yeah, talking about what we’re doing tomorrow.”

“We?”

“Sure,” he said easily. “I’m going to climb Sleeping Bear Dunes. What are you doing?”

A laugh burst from her mouth. Shannon tried to remember the last time she’d laughed, really laughed, carefree and happy and uncaring what anyone might think about the sound. And with a stranger at that.

It had been a really, really long time.

“Um, I thought…” She thought he was going to ask her to join him. Or maybe even presume she would join him. But he didn’t. He was talking to her as if they were friendly acquaintances, on their own individual vacations.

She toyed with a napkin Maureen had brought with the food. “I don’t know.” Glancing at Leo from under her lashes, she said, “Maybe I’ll go to the dunes too.”

“Oh yeah? How about we go together?”

Shannon instantly stiffened. “Did you just manipulate me?” Her voice was so low it was practically a hiss.

He blinked slowly. “No. I mean, yes, I think it would be cool if we went together, but you said you wanted to be alone so I didn’t want to assume anything.”

“Why