Cinderella's Millionaire. Katherine Garbera

he made her want to be reckless.

      He arched one eyebrow at her. “That’s what I said.”

      “Why?” She smiled at him.

      “I hoped you’d join me for dinner.”

      She swallowed. “You move fast.”

      “I wish we could move even faster.”

      She didn’t know why, but that line of questioning seemed even more dangerous than his touch. A couple brushed by them to be seated. “We should get out of the way.”

      Joe took her arm and led her outside. The late-summer evening was warm and the street traffic in the North End wasn’t too bad considering the hour. The sun lay low on the horizon.

      His touch made her remember all the reasons she’d enjoyed his company. And all the reasons she’d been careful not to touch him all day. She didn’t want to have to feel alive in the way only he made her feel.

      She took a tiny step away from him, to give herself some breathing room, but he just stepped closer. Damn, he smelled good.

      “About dinner,” he said.

      “What about it?” she asked, not trusting the excitement building inside her.

      “Are you available?”

      She had to choose whether she was going to take the chance of getting to know him better or return to her normal life without knowing what those lips of his felt like on hers. “Yes.”

      “Great. We can go to the best Italian kitchen in Boston.”

      “Antonio’s?”

      “No. My place.”

      “Your place? Do I look naive?”

      “No, you look tempting.”

      “Tempting? Not bad. But I’m still not going to your place on our first date.”

      “Which number does it have to be?”

      “I don’t know. Let me check my Dating in the New Millennium book.”

      Pretending to withdraw a book from her purse, she studied the imaginary pages for a minute. “There’s no firm answer. It depends on the guy.”

      Joe scooted even closer to her and she closed her eyes, afraid he’d see that she wasn’t the sophisticated, witty woman she’d been pretending to be.

      “What are you looking for, Holly?”

      “Tonight?”

      He nodded.

      “A nice dinner with a good-looking Italian.”

      “I can get you the nice dinner. Would a surly Italian do?”

      “I have yet to see surly but if he shows up, we’ll renegotiate.”

      “Deal.”

      “There’s a nice quiet little deli around the corner. Does that sound good?”

      “Yes,” she said. They walked next to each other. His heat enveloped her and she wished she’d worn a blouse under her suit jacket so she could take it off and feel his touch on her skin.

      “Do you have big plans for your money?” he asked.

      “Yes.”

      “What are you buying?”

      She just shook her head. She didn’t want to talk about her father and his health problems.

      “My sisters would spend it on clothes or shoes.”

      “I’d love to spend it on shoes,” Holly said. In fact, she’d had her eye on a pair of strappy sandals since spring, but she didn’t really need them since she spent most of her time at the bakery or home.

      “What is it with women and shoes?” he asked, but there was a teasing note in his voice.

      His gaze skimmed down her legs, stopping at the Enzo pumps she’d bought on sale last summer. “Those look nice, by the way.”

      “My legs or shoes?”

      “Your legs,” he said.

      “Thanks. I’d return the compliment but I haven’t seen yours yet.”

      He laughed and it made her feel good deep inside. She wanted this day to never end. She thought maybe she’d been too hasty in telling him she couldn’t go to his place tonight, because suddenly she wanted to—very badly.

      Marino’s reminded him of being a kid again. Until he walked in the front door he’d forgotten that it had been five years since he’d been in there. He’d suggested the Italian deli because it made sense and he was a logical guy most of the time.

      But suddenly logic had flown out the door. He remembered why he’d avoided the place. He’d met Mary here. It had been the summer before he started college. They’d met near the end-cap with the homemade Italian cookies. Mary had been from New Jersey and missing home. Joe had brought her to his family, and the rest had been history.

      The smell overwhelmed him—spicy oregano, pepperoni and garlic. They were the scents of his boyhood and brought with them dreams he’d done his best to forget. He paused in the doorway, doubts penetrating the desire that had been motivating him since he’d met Holly. What the hell was he doing?

      Holly bumped into him. “Is it too crowded?” she asked.

      Joe shook his head. Only in his mind was it crowded—with two women who looked the same. Actually, there was only a couple of teenage boys at one of the tables in the front and Robert behind the deli counter.

      “Joseph, it’s been a long time since we’ve seen you. Mama, come out here and see who is in the shop,” Robert said in his heavily accented English.

      Joe embraced the shorter older man with true fondness. Robert and Lena were a part of his past. For the first time he was cognizant that he’d quit living when Mary died. His mom had tried to tell him but he hadn’t wanted to believe her.

      “Robert, how’s it going?”

      “Today, it’s good, Joseph. For you too, eh?” Robert looked right at Holly and then winked at Joe.

      “Today is good,” Joe said. Though he wasn’t sure. Days that passed with numbing quickness were what he usually wanted. Today had gone quickly but he’d started to feel again and it was painful. Frostbite wearing off was painful.

      He turned to the source of his reawakening. “Robert Marino, this is Holly Fitzgerald. Holly, this is Robert, the proprietor of the finest Italian deli in Boston.”

      “Nice to meet you, Miss Fitzgerald.”

      “Likewise,” Holly said.

      Lena came out of the back and let out a little shriek of joy, ran over to Joe and embraced him. Holly was watching him with a smile in her eyes, and he realized she knew he was uncomfortable and was amused because of it. He arched his eyebrows to let her know he’d get her back later.

      After they ordered their sandwiches, they made their way to one of the tables in the front. Joe felt awkward. Sexual awareness he was comfortable with, but sitting at this small table in the crowded market felt too intimate to him.

      He hated being irrational and exploring his emotions, so he forced his attention to the sandwich put in front of him. He’d eat dinner with Holly and then say good-night. It had been a day out of time, but he wasn’t interested in getting involved with a woman again for the long term. Sex was fine but Holly made him want more, so he wasn’t going to pursue her.

      “This is a really nice place. It reminds me of the bakery where I work,” Holly said, shifting on her seat. Her legs rubbed against his under the table. An image of them swam in his brain, and he knew he was going down.

      “You work in a bakery?” he asked. Right