Sweet On You

chapter Eight



Nostalgia made her set aside the plans for her soup kitchen and pull out her grandmother's Christmas recipes.

Daniela took the box to her bedroom and sat in the window seat. She wanted to have the idea for her foundation fully formed by the time she bought the Harrison building, but in brainstorming cooking classes to offer and considering recipes, she started thinking about Nonna. If Nonna were still alive, she'd discuss all this with her.

Setting aside the lid for the recipe box, Daniela slowly sifted through the pieces of paper and note cards. The recipes greeted her like old friends.

Nonna's sugar cookie recipe, which guaranteed to cheer up an unhappy child.

Fig tart, voluptuous and ripe.

Torta di mele, with apples, to warm you up on a cold Fall afternoon.

She arranged them in piles. Each year when she'd return home, she and Nonna would examine all the recipes and decide which ones to make.

Last year, Nonna died before Christmas, and Daniela hadn't had the heart to make anything. She'd started out this season feeling the same way. With Tony on her shit list and her parents traveling the world, who would she bake for?

Christmas baking was about love and intimacy. She was close to Marley, but in the end she knew Marley's loyalty lay with Tony. The crush Marley had on him was painful to behold. Daniela wanted to tell the young woman she could do much better than her self-centered brother.

"The jerk," she murmured, setting aside a recipe for bocconotti, one of Tony's favorites. Not that she was going to make it, because he didn't deserve it.

She missed him.

She blinked away the sudden tears and flipped carefully through more recipes, trying not to think about the holidays and being alone.

Mostaciolli.

She held up the scrap of paper, remembering Nonna handing it to her after Poppi, her grandfather, had passed away. Nonna had told her to keep it safe, that it was a recipe to make for a beloved, to inspire passion. Chocolate, cinnamon, cloves, rum... "The ingredients of love, Dani," Nonna had said.

Dark and spicy.

It made her think of Nico.

He hadn't found her yet.

He would. She set aside the recipe. And when he did, she'd make these cookies for him.

Her phone rang, and just like every time this week, her heart leapt when she saw a number she didn't recognize. She answered quickly.

But it was just Ken Lewis, her real estate guy. "We've hit a snag," he said without preamble.

She sat up at his grim tone. "What snag?

"There's another offer in for the building."

"Can't we just make a higher counter offer?"

"Normally I'd say yes, but we're dealing with Cruz Enterprises."

She didn't know that company, but Ken said it like the name had significance. "What does that mean?"

"Nico Cruz runs Cruz Enterprises," he said, as if that explained everything.

Nico Cruz. Her Nico? How many Nicos could there be in San Francisco?

Well, probably a lot. But how many would bid on the same building she wanted, after she told him she was going to buy it?

She smiled slowly, excitement filling her chest. He'd done it—he'd found her. She laughed. "How clever of him."

"You know him?" Ken asked, sounding intrigued.

"No." She didn't know anything about him except that he went commando and kissed like a fallen angel. She laughed again, shaking her head.

"Are you okay?" the real estate agent asked with concern.

"I will be." Once she'd kissed him again. "Do you have an address for him?"

"His offices are downtown. Hold on." Ken recited an address in the heart of the financial district. "But if you're planning on talking to him, it won't do any good. You might as well save your time to look for a new building to purchase."

"Why do you say that?" she asked.

"Do you know Donald Trump?"

"Of course."

"Cruz is also in real estate development, but he makes Trump look like a pansy." Ken paused, as if letting her absorb his words. "If Nico Cruz wants this property, you don't stand a chance of getting it. He's relentless and has pockets so deep that he could fit a semi in them."

Smiling, she tore off the address and stuck it in her pocket. "You need to work on your analogies."

"Maybe, but that doesn't change the fact that he has more money than you and I combined."

Only she knew that Nico didn't really want the building—Nico wanted to see her again. The building was just a means. But she couldn't tell Ken that. He'd think she was insane.

She probably was, regardless.

"Ken, make a counteroffer, but only for a little above the price he named." She opened her gigantic walk-in closet and picked a dress. It was tomato red, and the hem flirted playfully with her thighs when she walked. Nico wouldn't be able to resist it.

"Daniela, if Cruz wants the building, he's going to get it. Cruz Enterprises will make an offer the owner won't want to refuse. You don't have the kind of money to go up against that."

But Nico didn't want the building. This was just a ploy to get to her—she'd bet her award-winning chocolate cake recipe on it. "Just do it, Ken."

"Don't say I didn't warn you." He sighed. "But since we're doing this, I'd like to suggest putting in a deposit with the counteroffer. It'll show that you're serious about the purchase. I think five-percent of the offer should suffice."

"Okay, if it'll make you happy." She took the clip out of her hair and shook her head. "But I don't plan on losing, Ken."

"You know, if anyone could win against Nico Cruz, it'd be you." He chuckled. "I can't wait to see what happens."

"Brace yourself for fireworks." If only he knew how true that was. She hung up the phone and ran into the bathroom. A shower, some sprucing, and she was out the door and headed downtown.

The guards at the front desk in the lobby stopped talking when she entered.

She strode right up to them, her heels clacking with purpose. "I'm here to see Nico Cruz."

The one seated at the desk tapped something on his keyboard. "Is Mr. Cruz expecting you?"

"In a manner of speaking," she answered with a smile. "I can guarantee he'll want to see me."

The guards exchanged looks she read as yeah, right. But the one manning the desk picked up the phone. "What's your name?"

"Daniela Rossi."

The guard lowered his voice as he spoke into the receiver. He paused, shrugged, and then nodded before he hung up. "You can go up," he said as though he were surprised.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder as she walked to the elevator. The other guard followed her and swiped her into it. "It'll take you up to the top."

"Thank you," she said as the door closed.

It was so smooth a ride that she didn't realize how far up she'd gone, or how quickly, until she stepped out and saw the view of the city from the windows around the reception area.

A beautiful blond receptionist, sitting behind a long elegant counter, smiled politely as she stood. "Ms. Rossi? Nico's waiting for you in his office. This way."

Daniela followed the cliché down the hallway and to the right, all the way to the end. The receptionist knocked lightly and then, at the muffled sound, opened it and gestured Daniela inside.

She lifted her head and strode in.

He sat behind his desk. He was groomed perfectly, wearing an expensive shirt with the cuffs rolled up, a Patek Philippe watch flashing at his wrist, and still he looked like he could have easily slipped into the underworld. Everything about him screamed that he wasn't safe.

But safety was overrated. She was willing to risk it. Based on their one kiss, the rewards seemed so worth it. "You found me," she said.

He stood up, his gaze lingering on her legs. "You knew I would."

She dropped her purse on the nearest chair and sauntered right up to him. "The question is, what are we going to do about it now?"

"I have an idea or two." He ran a fingertip along the ridge of her collarbone.

She shivered, feeling the slight touch all over her body. "I hope they include you, me, and a bed."

"They do." He lifted her chin. "Eventually."

She went molten the second his lips touched hers. This was what she'd needed all week. She wound her arms around his neck and gave herself up to it.

To him.

She'd been worried that she'd imagined how outstanding their first kiss had been, but she shouldn't have worried. It was exactly how she remembered it, rich and delicious.

He kissed his way down, giving her goose bumps when he paused at crook of her neck and inhaled.

She sighed in delight, closing her eyes to savor the feeling. "It was clever of you to put in the fake bid on the building to meet me."

"It wasn't fake." He nipped her skin with his teeth.

"I—" Her shiver of pleasure ended abruptly as his words registered. She pulled back enough to look him in the eye. "What?"

"I wanted to see you again, but I want to buy the building, too."

She pulled out of his arms. "Well, you can't have both."

He pulled her close again and showed her differently.

Daniela tried to resist but he was like her mojito cake: intoxicating and too tempting to deny.

She pushed at his chest to give herself enough space to breathe. Even though her lips throbbed with the memory of his kiss, she glared at him. "You're a bastard."

He smiled self-deprecatingly. "By birth and by nature."

He spoke without sentiment, but she still heard a touch of sadness there, and her heart bled for him.

But she steeled herself, refusing to be played for a sucker. "You aren't going to soften me up with sob stories of your poor youth. You're a powerful man now, with everything the world has to offer, and I won't feel sorry for you. You overcame your past."

He studied her intently but said nothing.

So she got right in his face, trying to ignore the yummy scent of him, like bay rum and spices. "I want that building so that I can give other people a chance to overcome their pasts. Surely you can understand that."

He shook his head. "There are other buildings where you can do that."

"But this one is perfect." She thought of the time and expense of installing an industrial-grade kitchen into another space and shuddered. "Why do you need that building? Apparently you own half of the world. Can't you find some other spot to exploit?"

"No," he said simply, staring at her with a guarded gaze.

She stared right back, nose to nose. "I'm not going to back down, you know."

He smiled. "I'd be disappointed if you did."

"You're going to be especially disappointed when I take the building right out from under you," she said smugly.

He crowded her. "It's not wise to taunt the lion in his den."

Hands on her hips, she held her ground. "What are you going to do? Eat me up?"

"Exactly." He lowered his head and kissed her again.

Even now that she knew better, it transported her to that place where nothing else existed. As if to make a point, he held her there with just the pull of his lips, no hands, nothing to stop her from stepping away.

As if she'd be crazy enough to step away from this.

She moaned softly and leaned against him, bracing herself on his muscular biceps. She felt the full length of his body against her own curves—aware of the part of his body that seemed particularly happy she was there.

She mewled, liking that she'd turned him on so much so quickly, with nothing but a kiss. Imagine if she really tried.

She broke away with a sigh. "You're really good at that."

"I'm good at more than that."

"I bet." She grinned saucily at him and then headed to the door. Before she stepped out, she looked over her shoulder. "I'm determined to buy that building."

He put his hands in his pockets. "I know you are."

"Nothing's going to change my mind."

"Mine either." His eyes glittered. "I love a challenge."

So did she. She grinned. "Game on, then."