Second Chance With The Ceo. Anna DePalo

      “Lovely.” She spied the cake container on her old scarred moveable island. “And yummy.”

      Cole Serenghetti qualified as yummy, too. There were probably women lined up to treat him as dessert. A decade and a half later he was looking better than ever. She’d seen the occasional picture of him in the press during his hockey days, but nothing was like experiencing the man in person.

      And tangling with him was just as much a turn-yourself-inside-out experience as it had always been.

      “Um, Marisa?”

      Marisa set the cake container on the table. “Time for dessert, I think.”

      The kind in front of her, not the Cole Serenghetti variety, even though he probably thought of her as a man-eater.

      Marisa uncovered the chocolate seven-layer cake. She’d been so insecure about her body around Sal—she had too many rounded curves to ever be considered svelte. But now that he was in the past, she felt free to indulge again. Of course, Sal had a new and skinny girlfriend. He’d found the person he was looking for, and she was the size of a runway model.

      “So Cole was thrilled to see you?” Serafina probed.

      “Ecstatic.”

      “Now I know you’re being sarcastic.”

      Long after high school Marisa had told Sera about her past with Cole, and how things had heated up between her and the oldest Serenghetti brother during senior year—before they’d gone into a deep freeze. Her cousin knew Marisa had confessed that Cole was responsible for the ultimate school prank, that Cole had been suspended as a result and that Pershing had lost the Independent School League hockey championship soon after.

      Getting out two plates and cutlery, Marisa said, “It’s not a party unless you join me.”

      Serafina sat down in one of the kitchen chairs. “I hope this guy is worth five hundred calories. Let me guess, he still blames you for what you did in high school?”

      “Bingo.”

      Marisa relayed snatches of her encounter with Cole, the way she’d been doing in her mind since leaving the construction site earlier. All the while, Cole’s words reverberated in her head. I’m not as big a sucker for the doe-eyed look as I was fifteen years ago. Oh yes, he still held a grudge. He’d been impossible to sway about the fund-raiser. And yet, damningly, she felt a little frisson of excitement that he had fallen under the spell of her big, brown eyes long ago...

      Serafina shook her head. “Men never grow up.”

      Marisa slid a piece of cake in front of her cousin. “It’s complicated.”

      “Isn’t it always? Cut yourself a bigger piece.”

      “All the cake in the world might not be enough.”

      “That bad, huh?”

      Marisa met her cousin’s gaze and nodded. Then she took a bite of cake and got up again. “We need milk and coffee.”

      A little caffeine would help. She felt so tired in the aftermath of a faint.

      She loaded water and coffee grinds into the pot and then plugged the thing into the outlet. She wished she could afford one of those fancy coffeemakers that were popular now, but they weren’t in her budget.

      Why had she ever agreed to approach Cole Serenghetti? She knew why. She was ambitious enough to want to be assistant principal. It was part of her long climb out of poverty. She credited her academic scholarship to Pershing with helping to turn her life around. And now that she was single and unattached again, she needed something to focus on. Pershing and her teaching job were the thing. And she owed it to the kids.

      Marisa shook her head. She’d volunteered to be head of fund-raising at Pershing, but she hadn’t anticipated that the current principal would be so set on getting Cole Serenghetti for their big event. She should have tried harder to talk Mr. Dobson out of it. But he’d discovered from the school yearbook that Cole and Marisa had been in the same graduating class, so he’d assumed Marisa could make a personal appeal to the hockey star, one former classmate to another. There was no way Marisa was going to explain how her high school romance with Cole had ended disastrously.

      “So what are you going to do now?” Serafina asked as Marisa set two coffee mugs on the table.

      “I don’t know.”

      “It’s not like you to give up so easily.”

      “You know me well.”

      “I’ve known you forever!”

      Marisa summoned the determination that had helped her when she’d been the child of a single mother who worked two jobs. “I’ll have to give it another try. I can’t go back to the board admitting defeat this fast. But I can’t lie in wait for Cole again at a construction site, like some crazed stalker.”

      Serafina wiped her mouth with a napkin. “You may want to give Jimmy’s Boxing Gym a go.”

      “What?”

      Serafina gave her an arch look. “It’s beefcake central. Also, Cole Serenghetti is known to be a regular.”

      Marisa’s brow puckered. “And you know this, how?”

      “The guys down at the Puck & Shoot. The hockey players are regulars.” Sera paused and pulled a face. “Jordan Serenghetti stops in from time to time.”

      Judging from Sera’s expression, Marisa concluded her cousin didn’t much care for the youngest Serenghetti brother.

      “Are you doing more than moonlighting as a waitress there?” Marisa asked with mock severity.

      Serafina shrugged. “If you hung out in bars, you wouldn’t need the tip.” Then she flashed a mischievous grin. “Use it in good health.”

      Of course Cole Serenghetti would go to a boxing gym. The place was most likely the diametric opposite of the fancy fitness center where Sal played squash. She’d given up her own membership—with guilty relief—when Sal had unsubscribed from their relationship.

      She rolled her eyes heavenward. “What do I wear to a boxing gym...?”

      “My guess is, the less, the better.” Serafina curved her lips. “Everyone will be sweaty and hot, hot, hot...”

      One week later...

      Cole saw his chance in Jordan’s sudden loss of focus and hit him hard, following up with a one-two punch that sent his brother staggering.

      Then he paused and wiped his brow while he let Jordan regain his balance, because their purpose was to get some exercise and not to go for a knockout. “I don’t want to ruin your pretty face. I’ll save that thrill for the guys on the ice.”

      Jordan grimaced. “Thanks. One of us hasn’t had his nose broken yet, and—” he focused over Cole’s shoulder “—I need to talk pretty right now.”

      “What the hell?”

      Jordan indicated the doorway with his chin.

      When Cole turned around, he cursed.

      Marisa was here, and from all the signs, she didn’t have any more sense about a boxing gym than she did about showing up at a construction site in heels. She was drawing plenty of attention from the male clientele—and some were going back for a second look. But her gaze settled nowhere as she made her way toward the ring that he and Jordan were using. She looked pure and unaware of her sexuality in a floaty polka-dot dress that skimmed her curves. The heels and bouncy hair were back, too.

      She was the perfect picture of an innocent little schoolteacher—except Cole knew better. Still, for all outward appearances, the tableau was Bambi surrounded by wolves.

      “Now that,” Jordan said from behind him, “is a welcome Wednesday night surprise.”