The Devil Served Tortellini Read online

  The heads of all four women in the room swiveled faster than a lazy Susan on a power drill. "You do?" they said in concert.

  "Yes. That's why I need the dress. I don't want to be late."

  Mamma jumped to her feet. "We get the dress."

  "I can get it myself. It's in my old closet."

  "I help you; make sure you get the right one." Mamma was fast on Maria's heels now, her hand at her daughter's back, lest she escape without providing details.

  They headed up the stairs to Maria's old room. "Who is this boy? What does he do?"

  "Mamma..." Maria warned. "It's just a date. Nothing more."

  "Do I know his family?" Her mother put a finger to her chin. "Is it Angie Giovanni's boy? He's no good, you know. Never calls his mother."

  "It's not him." They had reached the top of the stairs. The door to Maria's old bedroom was three feet to the left. "Mamma, I can get my own dress."

  Her mother didn't take a hint well. She opened the door for her daughter and entered the room, taking a seat on the old twin bed with the pink ruffled comforter. 'Where is he taking you? Somewhere nice?"

  "I don't know. We didn't talk about it yet."

  Her mother tsk-tsked. "Not a good sign. A man should warn a woman. Let her be ready."

  Maria opened the closet door and rummaged past the size sixes. Shoved the size Bights aside. Took a longing glance at the tens before digging past them and finding the black dress she was looking for. Long, sleek, shiny.

  And best of all, with a ten percent Lycra count.

  "Make sure he opens the door." Mamma reached back and fluffed the two pillows, even though they had gone unused for the better part of eight years. "He treat you nice, or he answer to your papa."

  "Mamma-" Maria bit her tongue. She could standd here and argue chivalrous conduct for an hour or just nod her head and escape unscathed. "He'll hold the door. Or he'll answer to me first."

  Mamma rose and crossed to her daughter. She patted Maria's cheek. "That's my girl. So strong."

  "Thanks, Mamma."

  Her mother's face took on a stern look. "But don't be so strong you act like a man. Ask for help with the car, the sink." She nodded. "Men, they like that."

  "I'm not some damsel in distress who needs a man to help me out of the castle." Maria shifted the dress in her arms. "I can change my own oil, fix my own faucet, even pay bills without any help. I don't need a man to fix anything."

  Mamma's soft brown eyes met hers. "Ah, but you do, cara." Her palm rested again on Maria's cheek, but this time in a quiet, gentle touch. "To fix your heart."

  Antonio's Tempting-Maria Wine-Stuffed Apples

  1/2 cup golden raisins

  1/2 cup dried cherries

  1 cinnamon stick

  1/2 cup sugar

  Pinch of grated nutmeg

  Grated lemon zest

  3/4 cup water

  3/4 cup Marsala wine

  6 tart apples

  3 tablespoons butter

  Ah, apples. The fruit of temptation. Start by combining everything but the butter and the apples. Let this spicy stuffing sit for an hour while you whisper the sweet words she wants to hear.

  Preheat the oven to 375 degrees while she's getting hot, from the magic of your touch and your words. Wash and core the apples, being sure not to cut through the bottoms. Wouldn't want your stuffing to leak out too soon, now would you? Divide the delectable mixture between the apples, filling the hollowed cores just as you'll fill the empty void in her Friday night.

  Arrange the apples in a buttered dish. Pour the remaining wine mixture around them, then top each with a little pat of butter for additional richness.

  Bake for 40 to 50 minutes, basting with the wine mixture every few minutes. Serve hot, with a dish of cold ice cream on the side. The mixture of sensations i guaranteed to set her palate on fire while the wine will sweeten the way for you.

  And she'll be putty in your hands once again.

  CHAPTER 17

  Maria heard Antonio before she saw him. The red Ferrari came zooming down her street, breaking the speed limit three times over. When he stopped outside her building, the tires squealed in protest.

  She headed downstairs to greet him. He stood outside the car, holding the passenger's side door open with all the flourish of one of Bob Barker's girls.

  "Maria," he said in a dark, deep tone that made her name sound like the title of a really good porno.

  And all comparisons to game show help disappeared.

  Antonio's black hair was slicked back from his head, emphasizing his dark eyes. He wore a white collarless shirt open at the neck and tapered black dress pants that showed off his trim, tight abs.

  Oh, Mamma.

  She came around the car to his side. "Hi."

  A long, slow smile stole across his features. "You haven't seen me in years. Can't you come up with a better greeting?" Then he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers.

  The Fourth of July fireworks over the Esplanade had nothing over a kiss from Antonio. He was good. No, he was damned good. And she remembered all over again why she'd offered to be his love slave back in high school.

  "There," he said, ending the kiss, "that's how you say hello to an old friend."

  "I can't wait to see how we say good-bye."

  He chuckled and wrapped an arm around her, easing her into the car. "Patience, bignole, patience," he said, calling her "cream puff," just as he had all those years ago.

  He came around the other side and slid into the driver's seat of the Ferrari, then put it in gear and roared forward. Maria's silky dress slid against the cream leather seat. She braced herself with a hand on the dash.

  "Am I going too fast for you?"

  "A little."

  He chuckled. "You haven't seen anything yet." And he depressed the accelerator again, commanding the windy streets of Boston with the skill of a teenager at the helm of Mortal Kombat.

  A few minutes later, they arrived at a ritzy downtown restaurant. Antonio pulled up to the valet, handed over the Ferrari, then joined Maria on her side. Together, they walked into the restaurant, Antonio's arm slipping in against her waist.

  "You look beautiful," he whispered in her ear.

  She glanced at him to see if he was lying, but his gaze was clear. "Not the same as in high school."

  "Better," he murmured. "More of a woman now."

  Whew. It was warm in here. She might have to get home and get out of this dress soon.

  Antonio nuzzled against her hair.

  Very soon.

  The diet had been a success, even with only a few pounds of loss. As had her almost calorie-free day. If she could just refrain from eating tonight, too, she'd be okay.

  Otherwise, Maria knew the first big bite she had would make her explode at the seams like an overfilled Mylar balloon.

  Within a few minutes, they were seated and had ordered. Antonio asked the waiter for a martini and a bottle of Soave.

  "I don't really drink," Maria said.

  "Don't worry," he told her, leaning forward, his hand grasping hers. "I'll be joining you." When he looked at her like that, refusal didn't seem to be an option.

  At least with the menu she managed to stick to her resolution. She went with the skinless chicken topped with roasted vegetables with a side salad.

  For dessert, she'd have a bowl of Antonio. With whipped cream and extra chocolate sauce on the side.

  After the waiter left, she watched him sip his martini, and told herself this was exactly what she wanted. A date with a sexy man. A no-strings, no expectations evening. A fun time in bed and a kiss good-bye in the morning.

  She didn't want someone else's slippers on her bedroom floor. Another's towel hanging on her shower door. Someone else's coat taking up the second hook by the door.

  Been there, done that. Only an idiot whacked her head against the same wall twice.

  Antonio put his glass down and reached for her hand. "It's been a long time, Maria."
r />   She sipped her wine. The Soave went down smooth and easy. "More years than I care to count. Makes me feel old."

  "Oh, you aren't old. You're just better." The smile that crossed his lips told her the exact kind of better he was anticipating.

  "And you're still the same flirt as always."

  "I do my best to live up to my reputation," he said, grinning. They exchanged small talk until the waiter came by, depositing their meals with a minimum of in terruption.

  Worried about potential Lycra stressing, Maria picked at her chicken, leaving half her plate untouched. What she had eaten was delicious and it took tremendous selfrestraint not to dive across the table and suck dowry Antonio's lobster casserole. She stuck instead to beverages, especially the wine.

  Wine held virtually no calories and beverages, she reasoned, didn't boast the same dress-straining properties as solid food.

  From his side of the table, Antonio flirted just enough to let Maria know he was still interested. Very interested.

  Clearly, he hadn't noticed the extra pounds. Or maybe he had, and didn't care.

  And why did she care what he thought so much, anyway? If he were that shallow that he would reject her over a dress size, then Dante was right she needed to start pulling from the deep end of the dating pool.

  Maria bit into a sliver of chicken and swallowed thatt thought. Dante, right? Well, she certainly wouldn't tell him that.

  "What's on your mind, bignole?"

  "Oh, nothing," Maria lied. `Just lost in the company."

  Antonio shoved his empty plate to the edge of the table, placing his silverware in precise straight lines atop the white china surface. "Do you remember those days in high school?"

  She took a gulp of her wine and caught his gaze. "Oh, yeah."

  "They were fun, weren't they?"

  She smiled and took another long sip, trying not to look at the half-eaten dinner, which had been so delicious ... too delicious. "Lots of good memories."

  Antonio removed his napkin from his lap and folded it into precise quarters, then laid it on the table to his right. "And do you remember, in English class, how you'd help me sometimes?"

  "Do your homework is more like it," she teased. "Did you ever read a word of Shakespeare?"

  "Only the sex scenes." He grinned.

  `Just what I thought. You missed a lot of great literature."

  "I was too busy staring at you. I couldn't keep my mind on all those silly plays."

  She flushed and took another sip from her goblet. When she placed it on the table again, Antonio drew the bottle out of the marble wine caddy and refilled the glass. "I wasn't going to have any more wine," she said.

  "Life is about indulging," Antonio said, pouring. "Drink deeply of it."

  "Now that sounds like Shakespeare."

  "See, I learned something while I was staring at your legs." He grinned and signaled to the waiter for another martini. Then he steepled his hands and directed the full force of his gaze on her face. "I have a ... proposition for you."

  She picked up her glass to sip again, and realized she was more tipsy than she thought. Heat flooded her face and flushed against her chest. Maria lowered the goblet to the table without drinking. She should have eaten more. She felt so ... empty inside. It had to be the beverage dinner.

  "The way you say it, it sounds illegal," she said.

  "No, no, nothing illegal. Just a little ... help." He smiled.

  The waiter came by with Antonio's second martini. "Can I interest you in dessert?"

  "No," Antonio said. "We have plans for dessert." and he sent Maria a wink that made the flush on her cheeks flame red.

  And yet, the empty feeling seemed to multiply. She reached for her goblet and drained it, trying to fill whatever was missing.

  It didn't work. It did, however, make the room start to spin in a very interesting way.

  The waiter nodded. "I'll be back momentarily with your bill."

  Antonio reached for his wallet. "Let me settle this and then we'll talk back at your place."

  The wine had settled into her like a comfy blankett and she leaned against the soft chair, a happy grin on her face. "Sure."

  By the time they got back to Maria's apartment, the happy feeling had begun to wear off, replaced by one of exhaustion. She slumped against her leather sofa, trying her best to maintain decent posture so the Lycra wouldn't have to do the work of Hercules to hold her body in the dress. "So ... what was this idea you mentioned?" Some of the words kind of blurred together in her head. Had they come out that way, too?

  Antonio took the seat beside her on the caramel love seat, turning so that his arm draped over the back of the couch and his fingers toyed with her hair. Ah, that felt good. Sort of like a scalp massage by dwarves. Maria smiled.

  "I don't want to talk about work now," he said, his voice all deep and throaty, coming to her as if through a tunnel. "Not with you looking so beautiful."

  She smiled. "I take it you don't want me for my mind, then?"

  Antonio chuckled. "Since when has that ever been my focus?" He reached out a hand and cupped her breast, his thumb rolling over the nipple through the fabric with an expert touch that said he'd done it a hundred times before and knew what would make her turn on like a spigot.

  But for some reason, this time it didn't work. Maybe it was the wine. The heat of the room. The fact that she'd barely consumed three hundred calories all day.

  "Maria," Antonio whispered, moving his face closer and his hand into a more aggressive grip.

  "Antonio-"

  "Ah, baby, I love the way you say my name." Then he closed his eyes and kissed her.

  She felt

  Nothing. His kiss, which had seemed so wonderful before now felt about as exciting as hanging Nonna's girdle on the clothesline. There was no answering zing from her hormones. They'd all gone on hiatus.

  Or maybe, David had broken her heart so damned well that it had turned off the connection to her libido, too.

  Dante, her mind reminded her, made her hormones stand at attention. Dante awakened those nerve endings. Dante succeeded where Antonio

  "No," she said against his mouth, then pulled back, the room a wild kaleidoscope. "I'm sorry, Antonio, but I can't do this. Not tonight."

  His hand moved up to cup her face as gentle as he would handle a butterfly. "What's the matter, bignole?"

  " I -I--don't feel so well," she managed. And she didn't.

  Her stomach, filled with more wine than food, rebelled against her. She could feel it rolling and pitching, a ship caught in a hurricane. She scrambled backward, trying for purchase on the leather sofa, but the silky dress was having none of that. The fabric was made for sliding off easily, not helping her get to the bathroom before...

  Too late. Her dinner and her wine made a return appearance on Antonio's pants.

  "Oh, my God," she said, "I'm so sorry, Antonio. Let me-"

  He was already backing away from her, fast as a germophobe encountering a flu sufferer. "No, let me. You're

  obviously not, ah, well." He glanced at his pants, bit back a look of disgust, then gave her a wobbly smile. "I'll get cleaned up and leave you alone."

  Maria moaned and flopped back against the sofa. Big mistake. Like a greased pig, she slid off the love seat and landed with a thud on the floor.

  She lay there, figuring it was the only safe place to be until her stomach settled, and vowed never, ever to go on another diet.

  In the morning she would play Megabucks. At this point, becoming a millionaire was her only hope of ever getting laid again.

  Vinny's True-Love-is-Hot Deviled Chicken

  1/2 cup olive oil

  Zest and juice of one lemon

  2 cloves garlic, minced

  2 teaspoons red chilies, minced

  Salt and pepper

  4 chicken breasts

  When you're in love, there's no denying the heat you feel for your lady. It's like a flame that won't go out. Sort of like a butane burner
that's on all day. Geez, if someone would invent one of those ...

  No. We're talking about a good woman here. She's the heat in your heart, so serve her this chicken and she'll feel the warmth, too. Combine the oil, lemon rind, juice, garlic and chilies in a large, shallow dish. Add salt and pepper to taste, depending on how much more spice you want. Heat is good. In everything.

  Mix well, creating harmony in one place, as you have with your lady. Add the chicken breasts, turning to coat evenly. Cover and marinade in the refrigerator for at least four hours. If you can stand the wait, let it sit overnight. Me, I'm not that patient. When I got something to say, man, I gotta get it out or I'll burst.

  Anyway, when it's done marinating, broil or grill the chicken until cooked thoroughly. Ignore the flames of the stove. You're thinking about the love of your life here so it's important you keep your mind on her, not the way the fire kind of licks up at the pan, reaching for....

  Damn. That was close. Serve the chicken with a diamond ring and a bended knee proposal and you'll be sure to keep your love on high heat forever.

  CHAPTER 18

  Dante came into work Saturday afternoon after a sleepIrss night spent dreaming too much about a woman who didn't want him. He grabbed up his apron and wrapped il around his waist. He'd concentrate on work. That Plan had always worked in the past.

  It better damned well work now. Because he didn't leave a backup.

  "How's it going, Vinny?" he asked.

  "All under control, Boss." His sous chef grinned and went back to slicing red peppers, laying them in a roasting pan for broiling.

  "Are you staying on track?" Dante asked as he crossed into the walk-in refrigerator and pulled out a sheet of chicken breasts to marinate.

  "I got my mother on my back again, but I'm okay." He shrugged. "She thinks I should marry Theresa."

  "Well, do you love her?"

  Vinny finished the peppers and then drizzled them with olive oil. "I had a kid with her. So, yeah."

  The entire kitchen staff was buzzing with pre-dinner chores, so Dante whisked the marinade together, then coated the breasts himself, flipping them and moving on without losing a second of time. He liked doing the cooking himself, rather than delegating.

  The management part of running the restaurant had never been his favorite part of the job. Too much worrying about juggling the balls of employee morale, benefits, marketing and business development. He'd much rather be getting his hands into the anchovies and artichokes. "You either love a woman or you don't, Vin."