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Are You Lonesome Tonight?
Wendy Etherington
Take two resort owners and one eccentric chef. Add a fussbudget food critic, mix up two rooms–and what have you got? Either a recipe for disaster…or all the ingredients for love.Suite dreams are made of this…. Francesca D'Arcy has just pumped her last penny into making her five-star fantasy come true. Feather beds, fine wines and fabulous food–the Cabernet Inn is a stage set for seduction. Except romance isn't on the menu for Francesca–at least not until after dark, when a figment of her imagination takes on a life of its own!Resort owner Tony Galini has never met anybody like his business partner, Francesca. She's smart, she's sexy…and she hasn't got a clue how much Tony wants her! Still, he's hesitant to risk their friendship by making a move on her. But the lust is getting pretty close to the surface…and when they accidentally fall into the same bed, all bets are off. After all, who says friends can't make even better lovers….
He wanted Francesca…
Tony leaned his forehead against the elevator wall, reliving the surprised look on her face when he’d nearly kissed her in the kitchen earlier. What in the world was wrong with him? Thankfully, the doors opened, saving him from reliving that exciting, wonderful, awful moment. Again.
Eyes half-closed, he stumbled to his room, only to curse when he reached into his pocket and found it keyless. He leaned back against his door. Maybe he could just sleep in the hallway. He didn’t want to wake anybody up, least of all Francesca, though she was in the room right next door. The sight of her mussed and sleepy eyed would overload his already weak system.
But then a part of his still-functioning brain—and where was that earlier when he’d been gazing at his best friend as if she was a steak and he a vegetarian who’d fallen off the wagon—reminded him about the key code.
He opened one eye long enough to input his code—the day he and Francesca had met in the fourth grade—and opened the door with a sigh of relief.
In the dark, Tony toed off his shoes, then stripped off his clothes. Little did he know he wasn’t alone….
Dear Reader,
The idea behind this story wasn’t a hard one to come up with-—I’ve always wanted to do a story about best friends falling in love. There’s something about the level of intimacy already established, the history between close friends that makes falling in love more difficult—and in the end, so much more satisfying….
But if my smart, successful heroine was going to fall in love and risk nearly twenty years of friendship, the hero had to be irresistible. So what kind of man could be a more perfect match for her than a rich, gorgeous Italian charmer? Maybe he’s got a few commitment issues, and his list of conquests is organized by zip code, but, hey, that’s just Tony.
I’m willing to bet, though, that you’ll thoroughly enjoy watching my heroine, Francesca, tame him….
I love to hear from readers! Visit my Web site at www.wendyetherington.com or write me via regular mail at P. O. Box 3016, Irmo, SC 29063.
Enjoy!
Wendy Etherington
Books by Wendy Etherington
HARLEQUIN TEMPTATION
944—PRIVATE LIES
Are You Lonesome Tonight?
Wendy Etherington
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To Jacquie D’Alessandro and Jenni Grizzle, who constantly, through every book, scene and sentence remind me that I can do this.
Contents
Chapter 1 (#u4106f74c-64c2-51e7-85bf-3e1e91516b1a)
Chapter 2 (#u6edc34a9-83b9-55d5-bade-2a7ca5c9ad98)
Chapter 3 (#uf0e426d7-01ac-5dfb-a12c-d9103ad493aa)
Chapter 4 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
1
“CHES, hand me a power cord.”
Francesca D’Arcy eyed the jeans-clad lower half of her best friend and business partner, Anthony Galini. Not a bad way to start a Tuesday morning, truth be told. The man did have an amazing body, and he was presently defenselessly flat on his back beneath his desk.
She could envision dropping beside him, pulling his snug black T-shirt from his jeans, rolling up the soft cotton to reveal the sprinkling of jet-black hair against his olive-toned skin, his washboard abs, his broad chest—
Tony nudged her with his bare foot. “Ches!”
“What? Oh, the cord.” She rummaged through the box of computer supplies sitting on the desk. “Uh—which one would be the power cord?”
“The one with three prongs that you’d plug into the wall,” Tony said dryly.
“Cooking’s my forte, not computers,” she muttered, yanking out cord after cord in search of the proper one.
“Somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”
“At least I got in bed before this morning.”
It seemed even Tony’s commitment to the resort and winery they were about to open together couldn’t compete with his goal of dating every gorgeous blonde in New York before he turned thirty. She’d lain awake until two-fifteen this morning—when she’d heard Tony enter his room at the resort, the one right next to hers.
“Which svelte blonde was it this time? Bambi? Or maybe it was Bunny?”
“I’ll have you know I’ve never gone out with anyone named Bambi or Bunny.” He paused. “But if you want to introduce me…”
As she finally pulled the right cord out of the box, she dropped it on him. Well, more accurately, she threw it on him.
“Ow! What is with you today?”
It was ridiculous, she knew, but her resentment at being relegated to “good ole dependable Ches” was especially sharp this morning. She hadn’t realized her proximity to Tony over the last several months would bring her semi-dormant lust for him roaring to the surface. Lust she planned to do nothing about, of course. With a friendship that had begun in Mrs. Galloway’s fourth-grade class, she’d had nearly twenty years to tell him about her attraction, and now, in the most important month of their lives, when the professional and personal pressure was the greatest, she was going to attempt to jump his bones?
Think again, sister.
Think business. All business.
She’d sunk every spare penny she had in Bella Luna, the newest brainchild of Tony’s uncle Joe, the patriarch of the Galini family. The Galinis had tended to grapevines in Europe for over a hundred years, and fifteen years ago Joe had bought the eighty acres here on the North Fork of Long Island and built a successful winery in America. With all the new resorts and spas popping up in the area, Joe had recently decided to jump into a new venture and build his own resort. Unfortunately for Joe, two of his own sons were busy running the vineyard in Italy, and most of Tony’s other cousins were fairly worthless in the ambition department. They were all content living off their trust funds, playing tennis at their country clubs, skiing in the Alps, and clubbing in New York.
In truth, Tony had spent a good many years indulging in the same pursuits. Then suddenly, six months ago, he’d called Francesca and asked her if she wanted to run the resort. With construction already underway, he’d sent her building and business plans, estimated costs and profit potential. With her degree in hotel and restaurant management, as well as certification from culinary school, Francesca had been completely unfulfilled working in convention planning at the New York Hilton, and after seeing Tony’s ideas for the resort, she saw the possibility of her dream coming true—owning her own business. She convinced Tony and his uncle to let her buy into the project, and though she could only afford ten percent ownership, she was on her way.
Now they were two weeks away from the grand opening. It was all really happening.
No way was she letting her needy hormones muck it up.
Tony scooted out from under the desk and rose to his full height of six-foot-two. The scent of his sexy, spicy aftershave washed over her. “Let’s turn it on.”
She swallowed, knowing if he pushed any more of her buttons, she’d melt into a puddle at his feet. She managed to find her usual aplomb and propped her hand on her hip—a nice hip, too, in her estimation. Not that he’d ever noticed. “Where would that button be?”
Tony kissed the tip of her nose. “Cute, Franny.”
“You’re really trying to get on my nerves, aren’t you?” Francesca stepped back, rubbing her nose as if she was trying to rid herself of his chaste kiss. In truth, she was tingling from her nose all the way to her toes. Ridiculous. Embarrassing. Useless.
Tony punched the power button on the computer and propped his butt—a magnificent specimen—against the desk. His velvety brown eyes danced. “Can you believe it’s been almost twenty years since you slugged me in the lunchroom and demanded I come up with a cooler nickname than ‘Franny’?”
“And got two days of after-school detention from Principal Duncan for my efforts.”
“Hey, didn’t I pull the fire alarm to get you released?”
“I’ll never understand how you didn’t get caught.”
“I have an innocent smile,” he said, then grinned.
Even at ten, he’d known how to drive women wild with his charm. Of course, she’d been unmoved. At least until the night, eight years later, when she’d accidentally walked in on him as he was getting out of the shower…
Yikes. Bad train of thought.
To distract herself, she glanced around the opulent room they’d converted to their office suite, complete with full bar and sunken living room, decorated to give an impression of class and wealth. She sighed as her gaze fell on the windowed wall to her left, beyond which lay the blossoming vineyards. She still bemoaned this valuable space Tony had commandeered on the third floor. She’d even called Joe when Tony insisted he couldn’t work in an office off the lobby. But surprisingly Joe—a practical, hardworking businessman to the core—had sided with his nephew. They could use the suite to entertain potential clients and guests, he’d pronounced.
That Prince of the Universe upbringing of his would be their undoing.
The computer chimed as Windows loaded. He turned around and leaned over the desk. “Looks great, huh?”
With her gaze once again dropping to his lower half—this time catching an excellent, close-up view of that great backside of his—she nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah.”
“Go check your computer. I want to see if they’re networked right.” He tapped on the keyboard. “I’m sending you an interoffice e-mail.”
“Yeah?” she said, turning her head sideways, still staring at his butt, not really interested in technology at the moment.
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “What are you doing back there?”
She yanked her gaze from his bod. Her face flushed. “I, uh—I’m going to check my e-mail.” She backed out of his office and into hers.
Out of reach of temptation and the influence of his aftershave, she managed to pull herself together.
She sank into her office chair. With a simple walnut desk, chairs upholstered in dark green and her knickknacks and diplomas hanging on the walls, her surroundings were completely different from Tony’s sleek, black-marble-and-glass–appointed room. But it suited her.
The mirror on the opposite wall reflected a woman with her dark-brown hair pulled into a ponytail, an ordinary face—though she had inherited her mother’s naturally tanned skin—blue eyes, and nearly-chewed-off pink lipstick. This last was no doubt a casualty of all that butt-gazing. Her mile-long to-do list lay next to her keyboard. Her in box was a good foot high.
Ah, reality. It’s good to have you back.
Back from her brief foray into fantasyland, she was reminded of the life-affirming decisions she’d made recently.
She was at a point in her life where romantic flings had ceased to be a priority. She was a serious business-woman now, with major responsibilities. Tired of the commitment-wary, ambition-challenged guys she’d dated in the past, she’d decided she was holding out for Mr. Right. And Tony certainly wasn’t him.
Dear Tony. Who always skated by in life, then charmed himself out of any situation he’d screwed up.
Even if he ever looked at her as anything other than a friend, she knew he wasn’t The One. The One was going to walk into her life one day and she’d know, instantly, that he was the love of her life. For five generations the women in her family had fallen completely, instantly in love with their future husbands, and seeing the results of her parents’ wonderful thirty-year marriage, she had no doubt love would find her the same way.
So, in conclusion, all you stubborn, Tony-dazzled hormones back off!
She pulled up her e-mail and opened the one from Tony.
Hi, bella. Have I told you lately I couldn’t live without you?
Francesca sucked in a breath. Her hormones danced a jig.
She scrolled down further.
I’d never manage to eat a decent meal.
-T
“Did you get the message?” Tony called from the other room.
“Oh, yeah.” Clamping down on her disappointment and deciding two could play at this game, she typed,
Ecstasy awaits you tonight…
Then she skipped down a few lines and added,
We’re having fettuccine with scallops.
She hit the send button, rose from her chair, rolled her shoulders back, then marched from the office. The One was just around the corner, poised to save her from this impossible attraction.
He just had to be.
TONY LEANED across his desk and snagged the ringing phone. “This is Tony.”
