Free Catering to the Italian Playboy by Tamelia Tumlin Page B

you’d call a family man. He spent all of his time chasing the almighty dollar and never had time for me or my mother.” And chasing every skirt he laid eyes on .
    “What about now? Do you still see him?”
    “I haven’t spoken to him since my mother’s funeral and I don’t intend to. He didn’t want us then and I don’t need him now.”
    A muscle in Max’s chin twitched. “What about Alex? Shouldn’t he have a chance to know his grandfather?”
    “No.” The word exploded from her lips. She would not let her father destroy Alex’s life too.
    Max started at her sharp answer. “I realize your father isn’t perfect, but he is the only one you have. Maybe it’s time to put this all behind you and try again. For Alex’s sake.”
    Sophie’s heart squeezed. “That’s not possible. Not anymore,” she whispered. I will not betray my mother by forgiving that man.
    “Everyone isn’t lucky enough to have a family, Sophie. I’d hate to see you throw yours away and regret it later on.” The harshness in Max’s voice took her by surprise, making her briefly wonder if he were referring to himself. Especially since he’d never mentioned his own family. “Surely, you can find some way to forgive him.”
    “My father is dead to me,” Sophie told him flatly. “And I’d rather not discuss it anymore. I want to make A Touch of Spice a success in honor of my mother’s memory. I don’t need my father to do that.”
    Max was quiet for a moment and Sophie thought he was going to press her further, then his muscles relaxed. “I’m sorry you feel that way about you father.” His eyes softened. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make your business a success. The least I can do is make sure you make the right connections.”
    Shocked, Sophie jerked her gaze to his. “You’d do that?”
    “Of course. You’re raising my son. I want you to be successful.” He pushed a stray tendril from her eyes, his fingers brushing against her cheek ever so softly. Sophie’s heart fluttered against her ribs. “I can see how hard you’ve worked and how important this is to you. Besides,” a smile played at the corners of his mouth, “anyone who’d pop out of a cake in a G-string deserves a break.”
    Heat eased into Sophie’s cheeks, but she couldn’t help but smile. “You don’t have to remind me what an idiot I made of myself.”
    “I thought it was very brave of you.” Max tried to keep a straight face, but his lips twitched, betraying the grin underneath. “Though I wasn’t quite sure about that dance you were trying to pull off. What was that anyway? The Robot?” Max jerked his arms and waist in stiff electronic motions to demonstrate.
    Sophie’s smile dissolved into a giggle at his rendition of the eighties dance. This was a side of Max she’d never seen but rather enjoyed. His version of the silly dance seemed at odds with his usual serious nature, yet this was the side she could see relating to Alex. Hope plucked at her heart. This was how a real dad should be and maybe, just maybe, Max could be what Alex needed after all.
    Sophie swatted his arm playfully. “Why don’t you try balancing on a slick lacquer table in three-inch heels and see how well you do?” He didn’t need to know she couldn’t have pulled it off in her sensible flats in the grass. Coordination was not one of her strong suites.
    Max’s laugh rumbled through her. “I think I’ll pass. I don’t believe I’d look nearly as sexy as you did.” His tone turned silky, his eyes darkening to a sensuous shade of gray as he caught her hand in his. Sophie’s breath hitched. “But that bird’s eye view of the birthmark on your thigh was more than enough to make up for the God-awful dance.”
    Sexy?
    Her stomach somersaulted. He thought she was sexy?
    Sophie licked her suddenly parched lips. “M–my birthmark?”
    “Mmm.” His hand slipped from hers and his fingers teased nerve-endings in her arm she didn’t even know existed. Her