Free The Devil Served Desire by Shirley Jump Page A

Maria by fingering her street address.
    Clearly, he needed mental help. Or a hobby.
    "I didn't picture you as the Honda type," Maria said, interrupting his thoughts.
    "Oh, yeah? What type am I?"
    "Ferrari. Lamborghini. Porsche. Something that screams 'man on the road.' "
    "Man on the road?" He glanced at her, eyebrow arched. "Is that how you see me? Some beer swilling, horn honking, guy on a power trip behind the wheel?"
    She considered him. "Well, maybe not the beer swilling part."
    They came to a stoplight and he turned slightly in his seat, feeing her, their gazes connecting across the short divide of the car's interior. "I own a Honda because it's good on gas, easy to park and gives me more money to put back into the restaurant. I like wines, not beer, and will go to great lengths to taste an excellent merlot. I hardly ever honk my horn because the city is noisy enough. And my power trips are all over my linguine, not the size of my engine."
    She cocked a grin at him, a tease in her eye. "Is that because you only have a four-cylinder under your hood?"
    "I have enough horsepower, trust me."
    "Yeah, well, it's not about how many horses you're running. It's about what you do with them." She reached in her bag and pulled out a compact and a lipstick tube. "And in my experience, most men are good at mechanics but suck at finesse."
    He should have had a witty rejoinder. Some kind of sardonic remark that would put him back in charge of the conversation. But when she swiveled the cranberry color up from the gold tube and slid it slowly along her bottom lip, pouting it out ever so slightly....
    He forgot his native tongue. Hell, he forgot he even had a tongue.
    She tipped the lipstick up to point the bows of her lips with crimson. Her tongue darted out, sliding across the front of her teeth. He thought of his mouth on hers earlier, of the sweet yet hot taste of her, pulsing against him, igniting a roaring in his gut he hadn't felt in a long time. If ever.
    The blare of the car horn behind him jerked Dante's attention back to the road. Good thing, too, because he'd almost taken out a defenseless grandma pushing a metal cart filled with groceries.
    "Having a little trouble driving?" Maria asked.
    In the rearview mirror, Grandma flipped him the bird.
    He cleared his throat and focused on the road. "My mind wandered for a minute."
    "Uh-huh." She smirked as she slipped the lipstick and compact back into her purse.
    He banged a right on Prince Street. Only a couple more blocks until the restaurant came into view and Maria would slip out of his grasp. Again. She intrigued him, this woman who conducted business with the gustiness of a man yet had the vulnerability of a woman in her eyes. "Come to dinner with me."
    "I can't." Her stomach let out a rumble and she pressed a palm against it, as if trying to keep it under control. "I really can't."
    He couldn't let her go like that. She'd hooked him but good. She'd helped him, then refused to have anything else to do with him. He could see the want in her eyes, though she kept telling him something very different.
    That push-pull was sexy as hell. An Olympic challenge if ever he'd seen one.
    "Then I'll come to dinner with you. Name the night. Mamma told me I'm welcome anytime."
    Maria laughed. "Mamma's getting out her tape measure to fit you for a tux. If you know what's good for you, you'll get a restraining order against her."
    "Why? I like your mother." He'd reached the restaurant and parked in front of it, still hoping Maria would change her mind. "I happen to enjoy being fussed over, cooked for and appreciated."
    She let out a sigh that sounded a lot like disgust. "Most Italian men do."
    "Oh, is this some kind of he-man comment? Like maybe I should quadruple the hair on my chest and order you around from the Barcalounger?"
    "You wouldn't be the first to try."
    "Ooh, I sense bad relationships there."
    "I'm single, twenty-eight, and Italian. Bad relationships come with the DNA."
    "Mamma