Debbi Rawlins - Educating Gina

“Mike?”

“I’m here.”

“Would you come to my office, please?” His abrupt change in tone, obviously for the benefit of his niece, had Mike grinning all the way down the hall.

It never failed to amaze him that the company ran profitably. Antonio was a shrewd enough businessman who kept close watch on the operation and the finances, but his refusal to modernize came at a cost. Robert understood that, but he wasn’t ambitious enough. If Mike could only get a foothold, he knew he could make some innovative changes that would make them all take notice.

Rob passed Mike as he left his father’s office and gave him an apologetic smile. Antonio’s door was already open, but Mike gave a brief courtesy knock before entering.

“Ah, here he is.” Antonio gestured him inside.

Antonio’s desk was the neatest Mike had ever seen it. Even the papers in the In box in the corner were in a tidy stack. The nude painting that usually hung on the wall behind the boss had been removed.

Mike cleared his throat to disguise a laugh. It was a perfectly tasteful and expensive painting. This Gina had to be some prim and proper—

Then he saw her. Sitting at Antonio’s conference table, bundled up in a big, bulky tan coat, her hair stuffed into an ugly knit cap. She must be roasting in this August heat, Mike thought.

“This is my niece, Gina Ferraro.” Antonio made a sweeping motion with his hand, urging Mike inside. “Mike is our distribution manager.”

“Hello,” she said in a throaty voice, her sultry accent wrapping around Mike like a cashmere blanket. She sent her uncle a quizzical look out of almond-shaped brown eyes. “I thought that was Roberto’s job.”

Antonio looked as surprised as Mike that she’d asked the question. But he only shrugged. “They share the title. But Mike does most of the work.”

Gina switched her attention back to him, but Mike was still reeling from Antonio’s surprising but astute remark. He hadn’t realized Antonio was aware of the situation.

“And now you have to baby-sit me,” she said, her lips pursing slightly in a pout as she extended her hand. “I have explained to everyone that I do not need an escort.”

“This is a big city, cara.” Antonio gave his niece a patient smile. The kind he reserved for nice Italian women from whom he expected obedience.

“Yes, Zio,” she said meekly, looking directly into Mike’s eyes as he accepted her hand. Small. Incredibly soft.

“It’s really no trouble. We have a terrific library in—”

Annoyance flickered in her eyes, and she withdrew her hand. “I have made a list of places I would like to visit.”

“Oh, okay. Sure.”

“Have you had lunch?” Antonio rubbed his meaty palms together. “Either of you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Let’s all go to Angelo’s. You two can get better acquainted over a nice bowl of linguini and clams.”

Gina made a slight face, but then said, “Yes, Uncle.”

Mike stepped aside and waited until she stood. She was petite, about five-three in sensible black-laced shoes, the kind Mike’s grandmother used to wear.

Antonio gestured for them to precede him out the door. “After we eat, Mike will take you to my apartment so you can unpack and rest awhile. Later, if you aren’t too tired we’ll have dinner together. Okay?”

“Whatever you say, Uncle Antonio.”

“And take off that coat before you die of heatstroke and your mother makes meatballs out of me.”

She touched the top button with reluctant fingers and then slipped it free. By the time she got to the third one, the sudden tension that had coiled in Mike’s gut about knocked him over.

What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t have time to analyze this odd reaction. She was on the last button.

She pulled the lapels apart and shrugged the bulky fabric off her shoulders, revealing an unattractive, shapeless black dress over hose that were too thick.

Mike let out a disappointed breath and took the coat from her. But the smile she gave him made his insides tighten again. It was the almond-shaped eyes and full lips. He was a sucker for both. Good thing she wasn’t his type. As if he had one after such a long dry spell.

They all got to the hall and Antonio bellowed for Robert to join them. So much for the intercom.

The restaurant was crowded for midafternoon, but Antonio’s regular table was reserved and they were waited on quickly. Everyone ordered pasta but Gina. She wanted a cheeseburger and fries.

As soon as she excused herself to go to the ladies’ room, Antonio chuckled. “A cheeseburger.” He muttered something in Italian. “This is the rebellion my sister is so worried about.”

Robert shook his head. “I kind of feel sorry for her.” His gaze followed Gina. “She’s twenty-three and she looks like forty dressed like that. Maybe Mike should take her shopping.”

Mike snorted. “Yeah, right.”

Antonio tore off a piece of bread from the loaf in the center of the table and then peered at him with open curiosity. “You guys know how to do that kind of stuff, right?”

“Pop.”

Mike caught Robert giving his father the eye. “What do you mean?”

Antonio shrugged and busied himself with slathering enough butter on his bread to clog an artery. “I don’t want her to get crazy, but maybe a nice pink dress would be good. Black is so old-fashioned.”

Mike and Robert exchanged amused looks.

“It’s Sophia. My sister still thinks she lives in the nineteenth century. Black is for mourning.” He looked up and nudged his chin at Mike. “Help her find a nice pink dress. Just not too short, okay?”

Mike grabbed a hunk of bread before he said something he’d regret. Robert damn well better be right. Gina had better prefer spending time at the library or computer, and not Bloomingdale’s and Bergdorf’s. If she wanted to shop, she could find just about anything online.

Robert signaled the waitress for another beer. “Gina went to Catholic boarding school all her life. I’m sure the nuns had a lot of influence on her choice of clothing.”

“Here she comes. Stop talking about her.” Antonio reached for a second piece of bread, and Robert deftly grabbed the butter.

“Come on, Pop. Too much of this stuff isn’t good for you.”

“You, who ordered a second beer in fifteen minutes, is telling me this?”

Mike let the familiar argument fade into the background as he watched Gina approach the table. As conservatively as she was dressed, she didn’t have a timid way of walking or carrying herself. As unbecoming as her hairstyle was, the severity of it accentuated her exotic eyes and full lips, and a couple of heads turned when she passed a table of four men.

Antonio stood when she got to the table, and he gave Robert and Mike the evil eye until they gave in and followed his lead. Gina reclaimed her seat, pressing her lips together as if trying to hide a smile.

She caught Mike watching her and quickly looked away. When Antonio tried to take the butter, the other two started in again. The genuine affection between father and son always impressed Mike, and he barely paid attention to the petty squabbling.

Apparently Gina didn’t, either. She glanced around the restaurant, her hands folded primly on the table, yet barely able to contain the excitement in her eyes.

Poor kid. Had she really been hidden away at a convent school all her life? Mike didn’t doubt it. The Scarpettis clung to some odd traditional values. Even Antonio had his quirks in that department, although he’d never admit it.

Mike continued to watch how her eyes widened with interest as she took in the rowdy but good-natured interplay at the bar. The TV positioned high on the corner wall was showing a baseball game, and some fevered cheering escalated the noise level.