He walked through the entry to the main room of Constanzo’s penthouse, and saw a huge white sheet of paper propped up on a vase on the coffee table.
He ambled over, picked up the note written in Constanzo’s wide-looped script and cursed.
“What?”
“My dad has gone.”
Her brow wrinkled. “Gone?”
“He took the jet and went home.” Realizing this ruined Laura Beth’s trip, Antonio faced her. “I’m sorry.”
She bit her lower lip. “I think that little tiff with your dad this morning was bigger than you thought.”
“Seriously? Do you really believe he was angry that I said I was happy to have someone else entertain him every once in a while?” He tossed his hands in disgust. “I tell him that four times a week.”
She shrugged. “That might be true, but he seemed a little more sensitive than usual this morning.” When Antonio groaned, she added, “Why else would he leave?”
He crumpled the paper, annoyance skittering through him. What did his dad expect him to do? Race after him? Apologize, again? He’d apologized already and Constanzo had blown him off, told him he was tired. He’d given him more reason to believe he wasn’t angry than to believe he was.
“Don’t worry about it.” He certainly refused to. If Constanzo wanted something, expected something, then maybe he needed to be forthright and not sulk like a sour old woman. “It’s not a big deal. It just means you’ll have to—” Go to the gallery opening with me. He almost said the words, but snapped his mouth shut as the truth finally hit him.
That meddling old man!
That’s why he’d left him and Laura Beth alone that morning. He wasn’t mad. He must have seen something pass between them, and he’d left so they’d be forced to interact.
No. They wouldn’t just be forced to interact. They’d have fun, as they’d had driving that afternoon. And they’d connected. He kissed her.
Oh, Constanzo was devious.
Antonio shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the sofa, his blood boiling. As if making him feel guilty wasn’t bad enough, matchmaking was the ultimate insult.
Still, just because Constanzo had played a few tricks, that didn’t mean he had to roll over and be a victim.
His voice crisp, casual, he said, “The real bottom line to this is that he took the plane. But even that’s not a big deal. If he doesn’t send it back for us, I have a friend I can call.”
She bit her lip again, took a few steps back. “I don’t want to be a burden.”
He sighed. When he saw Constanzo again he intended to let him have it with both barrels, if only for scaring Laura Beth. He’d left a shy, broke, single woman in a city where she didn’t even speak the language.
“You’re not a burden.” But he also wasn’t going to let Constanzo set them up this way. As much as he would like to take her to the gallery, to have her on his arm, to laugh with her he couldn’t do it. It had been wrong for him to kiss her. Equally wrong for him to be interested in her. She deserved so much more than the broken man he was. He wouldn’t be a bad host, but Constanzo’s plan ground to a halt right here. They’d eat something, then he would retire to his room until it was time to dress for dinner and the gallery opening—for which he had plans with Olivia. Because this was business, he didn’t even have to make an excuse for not inviting Laura Beth along. His plans were already set.
He glanced around. “So, lunch?”
“We’re past lunch and jogging toward dinner.”
“Oh, you want to wait for dinner?”
“Are you kidding? I’m pregnant and I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I’m starving. I need something now.”
“That’s fine. We’ll have Cook make whatever you want.”
Antonio led her to the kitchen, but as soon as he opened the door, he knew Cook was also gone. The place wasn’t just empty. It appeared to have been buttoned down, as if Cook had stowed everything away until Constanzo’s next visit.
The prickle of anger with his dad heated his blood again. Now the old coot wanted him to take Laura Beth to dinner? Well, he had another thought coming, because Antonio had plans.
Strolling toward the pantry, Laura Beth said, “I can make something for us to eat. It’ll be fun.”
He winced. “I can’t eat now. I have dinner plans with Olivia.”
She stopped and faced him. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry. We haven’t had a real meeting in weeks, and she likes to give me pep talks...check in with me.” He shrugged. “It’s a working dinner.”
She waved her hand in dismissal. “No. No. I get it. This is a business trip for you.”
Feeling like a first-class heel, and not able to completely ditch her, even though he knew getting involved with her would only hurt hert, he halfheartedly said, “You can come—”
* * *
But Laura Beth knew she couldn’t. It would be one thing to go to dinner and the gallery with Constanzo. People would look at her and assume she was his assistant. It wouldn’t matter what she wore, how much she ate, if she laughed at all the wrong places. But with Antonio and Olivia and Tucker? They would look like a foursome. Olivia would be dressed to kill, and Laura Beth would be in an old sundress, looking foolish.
“No. Thanks.” She caught his gaze. “I’m tired. It’s better for me to stay in. I’ll fix myself a little something to eat and probably go to bed.”
“You’re sure?”
The relief in his eyes rattled through her, confirming her worst suspicions, filling her with disappointment. He didn’t want her to tag along. They’d been fine in the car, chatty even. She’d admitted things she normally didn’t admit and he’d listened. But just as he didn’t want to give in to the urge to paint her, he didn’t want to like her, to get to know her. He’d made that clear after their kiss when he said there could be nothing between them.
And now here she was, like Cinderella, being told she couldn’t go to the ball. Even though she knew damned well she didn’t belong there, it still hurt.
So she smiled. “Sure. I’m fine.”
He took a few steps backward. “If you’re sure.”
“Antonio, stop being so polite and go.”
“Okay.” He turned around and walked out of the kitchen.
She leaned against the center island, disappointment flooding her. She didn’t know why she was upset. So what if he’d kissed her? The moment had been right. For all she knew she could have looked like a woman issuing an invitation. He’d taken it...but regretted it. And she was wise enough not to want a man who didn’t want her. She’d already had a guy like that and she was smarter than to want to get involved with another. Her current overload of emotions had to be hormonal, brought on by her pregnancy.
So why did being left behind feel like such a huge insult?
Because, deep down, she knew he liked her. Damn it.
That’s what had been simmering between them all along. Not her desperate need for a job or his unexpected desire to paint her. But attraction. Maybe even genuine affection.
She pulled away from the center island and straightened her shoulders. She