“Do you always do what’s best?” he asked.
“Don’t you?”
“You’ll have to try me and see,” he said, then pivoted and walked away.
Joe Barone was too sexy by half. A long time ago she’d promised herself that she’d live each moment to the fullest. For the first time she trod lightly on that vow because something in Joe made her doubt she could protect herself and remember her own rule. The rule that was more a vow she’d made to protect her heart from loss: Men were off-limits because she had her family to take care of.
Joe couldn’t believe how fast the day had gone. The day that had promised to be endless was flying by. Already they’d toured the warehouse, done a lunchtime give-away of Holly’s winning gelato at Faneuil Hall and granted interviews to the print media. The YMCA kids’ summer day camp was their second-to-last stop.
Holly looked cute with her apron and chef’s hat on. Too cute. He’d tried to retreat behind his wall of silence, but she’d seemed to sense what he was doing and hadn’t let him. She’d kept the conversation going all day and he’d realized he liked the person Holly was. She was a hard worker, which didn’t surprise him. Her days were as long as his, and her family loyalty couldn’t be questioned. She’d taken three calls from her brothers on her cell phone at various points during the day.
He thought more about what he had to offer a woman and realized that he didn’t want to hurt Holly. At best he could give her one night. That was all he had in him. All he’d allow himself to indulge in. And she deserved more.
He forced his thoughts back to the present. The kids at the day camp all got a kick out of asking her questions about baking. She was better with the kids than she’d been with the media.
“How did you come up with the winning flavor?” one of the teachers asked.
The reporters had asked Holly many times over, but still he was interested in hearing about how she’d devised Heavenly Berry.
“I just experimented with different combinations of fruit and chocolate until I found one I liked. Then I gave it to my harshest critics,” she said.
“What’s a critic?” asked a little girl in ponytails. He didn’t know many kids, so he wasn’t sure of her age, but she looked to be maybe five. Holly put her ice-cream scoop down and knelt in front of the child.
“Someone who gives you his opinion on something you’ve done.”
“Like a teacher?” the little girl asked.
“Kind of. In this case it was my brothers.”
“My brothers never like anything I do,” the girl said.
Holly brushed her hand over the child’s head. She wasn’t shy about touching others, except for him. She hadn’t touched him at all since their morning encounter. He wondered why.
“Brothers are like that. But mine are very honest about my cooking. So I welcome their comments,” Holly said.
“What’d your brothers say?” Joe asked. What would he have to do to get her to touch him again?
He wanted to know more about her family. Wanted to know details of her life so he could stop looking at her and seeing a feminine mystery and instead see someone whom he knew and understood. He doubted the questions would bring him that knowledge but at least they took his mind off the way her skirt pulled tight around her hips when she’d bent to talk to the child.
Holly glanced up at him. “That I’d found the right combination.”
“Really?” the girl asked.
“Yes,” Holly said, standing. She handed the child a cone Joe had scooped.
The line moved quickly and soon the children were gone. The empty gym felt strange with only him and Holly. Joe’s mind wasn’t on the sticky ice cream on his fingers but on the smudge of gelato on Holly’s cheek.
Ignore it, he advised himself, but he knew he wasn’t listening. He reached over and rubbed his thumb lightly over her cheek. She shivered.
Damn, it wasn’t fair that life should put in front of him this woman who reacted so quickly to his touch. Because though he’d lived a solitary life for a long time, he’d never been any good at denying himself. And it had been a long time since he’d seen a woman he’d wanted as much as he wanted Holly.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” she asked as they cleaned up the gelato containers.
“Like what?” he asked, removing his apron and folding it with exaggerated precision. Somehow he couldn’t look into those clear blue eyes of hers for another minute without taking the kiss he’d wanted all day.
“Like you’re wondering if I’ll taste as good as the gelato,” she said.
“Because that’s what I’m thinking,” he said, taking a step toward her. He should be backing away but he was tired of living his life in solitary confinement. Even if he’d placed himself there. Holly reminded him what he was missing, and for this one day he wanted to wallow in it.
“Dangerous thoughts, Barone,” she said, knitting her fingers together.
“I know, Fitzgerald.” He wished he could banter with Holly the way he did with Gina, but he’d never once had the white-hot burning desire to kiss his sister.
A long minute passed and he knew he should just grab his suit jacket and walk out the door. Gina and Flint had already left to go ahead and get the press ready for the check presentation.
But he also knew Holly awakened something deep inside him that he couldn’t silence. “You’re a very touchy person.”
“Easily offended?” she asked.
“No, demonstrative. You’ve touched Flint’s arm every time you talk to him and Gina’s, as well,” he said.
“It’s part of how I communicate.”
“Why haven’t you touched me?”
Stark silence followed his question. He heard a car horn outside and the kids laughing on the playground. Even the sound of Holly’s breathing seemed loud.
“I hadn’t noticed I wasn’t.”
He knew the fine art of evasion when he saw it, and Holly Fitzgerald was doing her best to tap-dance out of his reach. He should let her go. Would if he had a lick of sense. But for some reason sense had deserted him. His body said he wouldn’t miss it. But experience promised he would. “I did.”
She shrugged. She tilted her head to one side and nibbled at that full lower lip of hers. “I’m not myself around you.”
“How’s that?” he asked.
She shook her head and looked away. “I can’t explain it.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
She glanced back and shrugged again. Why was she running scared? What had he done that had made her put up her shields and hide?
“All right, won’t,” she admitted.
She removed her chef’s hat and apron and picked up her purse. “If memory serves, our last stop is at the gelateria.”
“Yes,” he said.
“I’ll meet you there,” she said, pivoting on her heel.
“Holly?”
She glanced back at him, her red hair reflecting the late-afternoon sun that streamed in through the high windows.
“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable,” he said.
“I know. It’s not a bad thing. It’s just that…” She walked back to him. “You make me feel too much,