Sweet On You

chapter Twenty-one



Daniela held up one of the scones from the Mandarin Oriental's tea service and made a face at it. "It's good, but it's not nearly as good as yours, Eve."

Blushing prettily, Eve tucked her hair behind her ear. "That's sweet of you to say."

"It's true." Lola stretched toward the tower. "But the cucumber cream cheese sandwiches are divine."

"The whole teatime experience is divine." Eve looked around the suite. "We're on top of the world here."

"It was the least I could do to thank you for helping me." She wasn't sure she wanted Marley to report back to Tony on her, so she'd asked Eve and Lola to bring over some of her things. Not that she'd needed a lot—the Mandarin Oriental was amazingly obliging in fetching whatever she'd needed. Except underwear, but she suspected Nico was behind that oversight.

"You haven't told us why we're ensconced in the ritziest room in one of the most expensive hotels in the country much less San Francisco, eating little crustless sandwiches and sipping tea." Lola lifted her cup. "We've been patient, but that's only because you had food waiting for us. You'll have anarchy on your hands soon."

Daniela smiled. She had been cryptic when she'd called them and invited them over to Nico's suite for tea, but she hadn't wanted to get into it over the phone. "I was restless, so I thought I'd invite my friends over for tea."

"Please excuse me," Lola said, reaching for a truffle, "but, delicately put, that's bullshit. Since when did you start hanging out at the Mandarin Oriental instead of your own mausoleum?"

"Mausoleum?" Eve asked with an amused lift of her eyebrow.

Lola shrugged. "I've got a way with words."

"Right now, the mausoleum is housing my brother, and since he's not my favorite person, I decided to come stay here." She paused. "In Nico's place."

Lola sat up, alert. "Nico? Is that the guy you're seeing? He lives here?"

"Is he around?" Eve whispered, craning her neck.

"He's in the study working." She'd interrupted him to tell him she'd invited a couple friends over, and that she was ordering tea if he wanted any. He'd replied that he only wanted her. She smiled wickedly, remembering when he'd shown her how much.

Lola nudged Eve. "Look at the expression on her face. I had that expression when I first started getting it on with Sam."

"You still get that expression when you talk about Sam."

"What can I say? My man is a god in bed."

"So is Nico," Daniela said with a wink.

The women stared at her and then burst into raucous laughter.

"So tell us about him," Eve insisted, pouring more tea for them all. "How long have you been seeing him?"

"Not that long." It seemed like a whirlwind, like she just met him yesterday and had known him forever. "But we've been seeing each other—"

"Otherwise known as 'getting it on,'" Lola interjected.

"—pretty regularly." She picked up a shortbread and dunked it in the earl grey. "So when my brother arrived unannounced, it seemed natural to crash here for the duration."

"Natural?" Lola eyed her in disbelief. "Natural is staying with a girlfriend, or someone's empty apartment. Natural isn't shacking up with a man you just met. Not unless you're really into him."

Daniela shook her head. "It's not like that. I'm just taking a timeout."

"Beauty took a timeout in the beast's castle," Lola pointed out, "and look how that turned out."

"Nico isn't a beast." She pursed her lips in thought. "Usually."

Eve put a hand on her arm. "Daniela, in her own creative way, Lola's trying to say that it seems serious with your guy if you're living with him."

"Can we really call me staying in his suite while my brother lays siege on my house 'living with him?'"

"Yes," both her friends said.

She grinned sheepishly. "I guess this is where I confess he cleared out part of his closet so I could hang my clothes."

"What does he do that he lives in a hotel?" Eve asked. "Does he travel a lot?"

"He's in real estate." She shrugged. "He hasn't traveled since we met."

"That means he likes you," Lola declared. "A man would have to be a fool to leave when he just met a woman he liked, without securing her affections or taking her with. If this guy—what's his name?"

"Nico." Saying it was like letting chocolate melt on your tongue.

"If Nico is as successful as this suite suggests, he's no fool." Lola leaned forward, her blue eyes wide with excitement. "The question is, how much do you like him. A lot, if this is your sanctuary."

Eve lifted her teacup to her lips. "You obviously feel comfortable and safe around him."

"I really—"

Just that moment, she heard the door to his office open and then the light sound of his bare feet on the hardwood floors.

They fell silent, all three of them turning toward the hallway right as Nico stepped into the room. He wore jeans with an untucked shirt open at the collar, and his hair was rumpled like he'd run his hands through it in frustration.

He was gorgeous. Daniela wanted to go up to him and tear his shirt off.

She glanced at Lola and Eve. Her friends gawked at him. She knew they understood what she saw in him.

They turned to her, and then they all burst into laughter.

Nico's brow furrowed as he moved to her side and ran a possessive hand down the length of her hair. "That's not the usual reaction I get when I walk into a room."

Daniela lifted her face. "There's a first time for everything. Nico, these are my friends Eve and Lola."

"Ladies." He smiled at her friends and then dropped a kiss on her lips. "I'll leave so you can continue to discuss me."

Something warmed in the pit of her stomach as she watched him leave, something that didn't have anything to do with carnal pleasure and everything to do with affection. She'd only been here a couple days, but she wasn't ready to go home. Even if Tony went back to New York, she'd stay here.

"You do like him," Eve said softly, a twinkle in her eyes. "You're visually eating him up like he's a chocolate croissant."

She turned to them. "How do you know if you're in love? How did you guys know with your men?"

Lola and Eve both shrugged, but it was Lola who said, "It's different for everyone. But, really, Daniela, the answer's inside you if you're honest with yourself."

She looked inward, wondering. If Nonna were here, she'd tell her to make zabaglione and stir in thoughts of him—if it came out sweet, it meant she was in love. If it curdled, he wasn't right for her.

But Lola was right—she didn't need to make zabaglione to know. The answer was there in every beat of her heart.





Nico stood in his bathroom. His once-tidy counter was covered in mysterious feminine things. There was enough makeup piled there to stock a department store. When Daniela had said she called her assistant and asked her to deliver "a few things" she'd need while she stayed with him, he hadn't expected this.

Oddly, he hadn't minded either. It was... not bad, actually. The noise and the clutter of having someone else around was actually nice.

He picked up the random fluff of underwear from the floor. Red: his favorite color.

He smiled at it. No, it wasn't bad having Daniela there—at all.

He'd never pictured himself living with anyone, much less someone like Daniela. Jason was right: Nico would never have picked someone like her because she was too messy.

She made him too messy.

The stillness from the other room informed him the women were gone. He tossed the panties in the laundry hamper and walked out into the living room. He stood in the entryway, watching Daniela clean up the detritus from her impromptu tea party. He'd liked seeing her with her friends, even if they'd burst into girlish giggles the moment he'd walked into the room.

It made him wonder what she told them about him.

"If you know what's good for you, you'd help me carry this into the kitchen," she said without turning around.

Grinning, he slipped behind her and gripped her around the waist.

"That's not helping," she murmured.

But he could hear the smile in her voice, and he nuzzled her neck. "It's helping me a lot."

Laughing, she set the things back on the table and turned in his arms. She circled his neck with her arms and kissed him.

It never got old. Every touch, kiss, embrace was new and different. Exciting. "Remind me to give Jason a bonus."

"What?"

"Nothing." He smiled. "Did you have a good time with your friends?"

"Yes." She smiled happily. "I love them. I haven't had female friends since I graduated from high school. Culinary arts are so competitive, and I worked so much, and Tony was my best friend, anyway..."

Her voice trailed off, some of the brightness fading from her expression.

It surprised him how much he didn't like seeing her light dimmed. He touched the corner of her mouth with his thumb. "But now you have me, and those women, who were frightening, by the way."

She laughed, like he meant her to. "How were they frightening?"

"They looked like they were hungry and I was the main course." He pretended to shudder.

Laughing more, she pushed his shoulder. "You loved it. And they didn't look at you that way. They're both happily taken with studs of their own."

"Are you saying I'm a stud?"

"That's what you're always telling me." She smirked at him.

Bending, he put his shoulder into her waist and lifted her over his shoulder.

"Nico!" she shrieked. "Put me down."

"Okay." He took her to the couch, set her on top, and covered her with his body.

Laughing, she pretended to push him away. "You're a brute."

"You love that about me."

"I do." She warmly gazed up at him, running her hand along his jaw.

He kissed her palm. "What do you want to do tonight? I have a couple excellent suggestions."

"Both of which probably exclude clothing."

"No. I'm perfectly happy letting you wear those red shoes."

Grinning, she pulled him down and gave a loud kiss. "Have I told you how happy I am? Which is incredible, when you consider the season."

"I'd have thought someone like you would love Christmas."

"Someone like me?" she asked with a lift of her eyebrow.

"Full of light. Sweet." He kissed her and, like always, was surprised just how sweet she tasted.

She hummed, licking her lips when he lifted his head. "You're implying that 'someone like you' doesn't like Christmas."

"I don't." He sat up, but he kept his hand on her leg. He couldn't not touch her. "Christmas wasn't a great time of year in my household growing up."

She sat up, studying him solemnly. Finally, she said, simply, "I'm sorry for that."

"The past is the past."

"I wish I could have shared my grandmother with you. She did Christmas big." She took his hand, her expression soft. "My first memories are of Christmas. She used to decorate every inch of her house, and I'm not exaggerating. She had lights and holly on everything. She made my Nonni put up so many figures and lights outside their house that he complained it took him a week to finish. Theirs was the house you'd drive by at night to gawk at."

His childhood residence had been one to drive by as well—to drive by and shoot at. "You love your grandmother."

"She was amazing. She's the reason I bake. My first memories are of me sitting on her counter, helping her. By 'helping,' I mean I'd eat the fistful of raw dough she'd give me to play with. She'd play Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin and Bing Crosby in the background, and sometimes she'd pick me up and dance. When I got older, we'd plan all the cookies we're going to make weeks ahead of time, and then we'd spend a week baking from dawn till late at night." Some of the light in her eyes dimmed. "Nonna died last year before Christmas."

He caressed her hair away from her face. "And it's not the same?"

"Not at all." She pursed her lips. "Although, this year is better. I think because I have a purpose with the soup kitchen. And because there's that family squatting in the building."

"I don't understand."

"I realized they probably won't have Christmas. Maybe they never have." Her brow furrowed at the thought. "It's just awful to think that."

He was torn between wanting to protect her naïveté and instructing her on how the real world worked. "That's life."

"It doesn't have to be." Her face lit up, fiery, like an unbending goddess. "If people just did a little something, things could change."

"Things only change for people who make it happen."

"I'm going to change things." She lifted her adorable chin. "I bought them Christmas presents."

He gazed at her steadily, not letting any of his thoughts show on his face. He was both endeared and irritated by her devotion to that homeless family. "It seems like more than enough that you take them food."

"It's not enough."

"It's also not your responsibility."

She frowned at him. "If I don't take responsibility, those kids will starve and freeze to death."

"They're street kids. They know how to take care of themselves."

"They're kids." She glared at him, pulling back. "No kids should have to take care of themselves."

But that wasn't how the world worked. He felt that hardened spot in his chest pulse righteously. Some kids didn't luck out. Some kids ended up dead.

"You don't agree." Daniela's eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms. "You don't give a damn about them."

"They don't have to be where they are."

"They're kids," she yelled at him.

"They have a choice."

"Easy for you to say."

It was, because he'd been there. "You aren't going to be able to be their guardian angel forever, you know. You're headed for heartbreak. They're on the street because they don't have it in them to be anywhere else."

She got up to her knees, pointing at him. "You're the Grinch."

"Yes, I am. And I'm a realist, and no number of presents is going to help those kids in their situation."

"Well, I'm not inviting you to help me deliver them."

He narrowed his eyes. "And, yet, I'm still going with you."

She folded her arms and glared. Then she grabbed his shirt and kissed him hard. "You infuriate me, but thank you. For going with me," she added softly.

He melted, damn it. He didn't know whether to growl or roll over and expose his belly.

Fortunately, her phone rang them. She shifted to pick it up from the table. Making a sour face, she tossed it aside.

He wondered who it was that got such a reaction. "You didn't want to answer it?"

"It was my brother. He's just going to be overbearing."

Maybe because he was already on edge. Maybe because his perspective was different. Maybe because he could understand how frustrating it was to care for her. But he couldn't keep quiet. "Your brother cares about you. You should appreciate that. I'd give anything to have my older brother meddle in my life."

"But he doesn't, because he knows you're capable."

"He doesn't because he's dead."

She gasped, her hand tightening on his as she shifted to face him. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

He was just as startled by the statement as she was. He'd never told anyone. Nico swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. "He died protecting me," he said, his voice low and raw even to his own ears.

Then she wrapped herself around him and squeezed. "I'm so sorry," she whispered against his neck. "I didn't know."

He squeezed her back, like she was his anchor, grounding him. He shifted her onto his lap and buried his head in the crook of her neck.

"Want to tell me about it?" she asked after a while.

"No." Sighing, he relented. "Our mom was into drugs, and everything else you could imagine, so Eddie took care of me. I don't remember a time when he didn't look out for me. He cooked for me and made me go to school, even though he dropped out in the fifth grade. He told me I had a brain, and that I had street smarts, and with the two I'd be able to do things."

"And you did."

"Eddie made sure of it. He wouldn't let me get distracted. He was so determined that I get out of that shithole that he joined the local gang to make money, to keep a roof over our head and to save for my college fund."

"Oh no," Daniela breathed, holding him tighter.

"He got in over his head. I don't know what they wanted him to do, but he refused, and the next thing I knew, he turned up on our doorstep, shot five times. I found him. It's been over twenty years, and I still remember every detail of that night."

She shook her head, a small sob escaping under her breath. "I didn't know."

Frowning, he lifted her chin. "Are you crying?"

"Of course, I'm crying," she exclaimed. "It's sad. I hate my brother right now, because he's a high-handed, selfish bastard, but I'd be devastated if he died. I'm so sad for you I want to go bake you sugar cookies."

Amazingly, he felt the hard spot on his chest loosen, and the beginning of a smile curve his lips. "Will that make me happy?"

"My grandmother always said they would." She sniffled, wiping her eyes on his shirt. Then she kissed his jaw. "If they don't work, there's always me."

"Yes, there is." He kissed her, gently, wholly, the way she deserved to be kissed. "It's working already."