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.Thesudden humor struck her.“So Dante gets fed and catered to by the same people he openly despises.Interesting.”“Yes, I guess it is,” he murmured.Suddenly, she was in his arms.His minty breath rushed acrossher lips and made her belly tumble.“Did you sleep well last night?”“Yes.”“Liar.” His dark eyes glittered with promise and a hint of danger.Shivers raced down her spine.“But if three times still gave you enough sleep, I’ll need to do better tonight.”Oh.My.She cleared her throat and reminded herself another night with him may be dangerous.She blinkedand pulled back, needing the distance.His arms closed around her.“Michael—”“I love hearing my name on your lips.” His mouth lowered and took hers, kissing her deep andlong and slow.She opened up and thrust against each silky stroke of his tongue, pressing close.Hecaught her low moan, then slid over her bottom lip to nip.The sharp pleasure-pain shot a rush of heatbetween her aching thighs.He tasted so good she wanted to devour every inch and discover all thosehard muscles straining under his clothes.Drowning in sensation, she let herself slide headlong into apit of seething heat and fire and—“Owww!” He thrust her away and jumped on one leg.She looked down in horror to see Dante’s teeth stuck in Michael’s pants.The tiny puncture holesthrough the thin fabric caused her to freeze, afraid she was his next meal.The cat’s face turnedupward in a sneer and he disengaged from Michael.He hissed low, then stalked toward her withintention.“Dante!” Michael let out a rush of Italian and waved him away with a threatening gesture.The catignored him and reached her.She closed her eyes, unable to move and—Dante rubbed his body against her calf.The low hum of a motor reached her ears.She opened hereyes and realized that noise was purring.He pushed his face hard into her leg, his long whiskerstwitching with pleasure as he circled once, twice, then settled beside her.Michael just stared at the cat, then back at her.“I don’t believe this.He’s never done that before,”he murmured.“And he’s never bitten.”“What? It’s not my fault—I told you I don’t like cats.I didn’t tell him to bite you!”“No.It’s deeper than that.Perhaps he sees something we’ve all been missing.”Maggie watched with widened eyes.“And you feed this thing so he comes back?” she asked inamazement.“What is wrong with you? He came at you like he smelled a tuna dinner.”The electricity between them jumped and burned like a live fuse gone wild.Her pulse rocketed.His eyes darkened with purpose, and he reached for her.“Margherita? Michael?”They both jumped back.His mother stood framed in the doorway, an apron covering her dress, herhair twisted neatly into a chignon.The aristocratic lines of her face shimmered with a classical powerthat had launched a successful business and raised four children.“What is happening out here?”“I was just introducing Maggie to Dante.”Mama Conte gasped.“Why is Dante near Margherita?”“Yes, that seems to be the question of the day.” Maggie shifted uneasily and took a step back fromthe man-eating cat.Dante only stared with disgust at her cowardly retreat.“Mama, we’ll be going tothe office with Julietta in a bit.Do you need anything?”“I will give you a list of ingredients I’m running low on.Margherita, I need help in the kitchen.Will you join me?”She hesitated.As much as she liked Michael’s mother, a deep-seated fear lodged in her gut.Thewoman was too sharp and asked too many questions.What if she slipped up and blew the wholecover story? Michael motioned for her to go, but she shook her head.“Um, I really don’t like cooking.Maybe Michael can help you.”His mother crooked a finger.“Michael already knows how to cook—you do not.Come with me.”She disappeared back into the house.Maggie cursed under her breath, indignant at Michael’s shaking shoulders as he smothered hislaughter.“I hate cooking,” she hissed.“Your mother scares me.What if she suspects?”“She won’t.Just be nice, cara.And don’t blow up the kitchen.”She scooped up her camera, shot him a dirty look, and stomped off.A low meow sounded behindher but she refused to acknowledge the sound.The irony of her current situation blew her mind.Sheseemed to be confronted at every turn with all the items she refused to deal with back home.Already,she felt responsible for Carina and her current activities, she had to make sure she didn’t kill foursmall children, she had to deal with psychotic cats, and now she needed to please his mother by notpoisoning the food.Muttering under her breath, she put her camera down on the table.Michael’s mama already had a variety of bowls and measuring cups stacked on the long, widecounter.Shiny red apples that would do Snow White’s evil queen proud gleamed in a row.Anexpensive blender thing with wheels took up the center.Various containers of powder—which sheguessed as sugar, flour, and baking soda—were neatly lined up.Maggie tried to feign enthusiasm for the task ahead.God, she wanted some wine.But it was only9:00 a.m.Maybe she’d spike her coffee—Italians liked their liquor.She smiled with false cheer
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