The Devil Served Desire Read Free

unless he's lost."
    She pivoted, and he straightened, Vinny and the smoldering food critic forgotten. She had the shape of an hourglass, and shoulder-length dark hair with ringlets curling around her face like a frame. He stepped out of the shadows and into her line of vision.
    She was as intoxicating as the grappa. No, hotter and definitely sweeter. He edged toward the sidewalk, now only separated from her by two narrow lanes of old, bumpy street, a leftover from the seventeenth-century city design.
    Without her coat on, he had an unblocked view of shapely legs beneath a straight black skirt and a curvy chest pushing at her T-shirt. Her breasts jutted out seductively, as if they were introducing themselves to his gaze.
    Hello , he thought. Very pleased to meet you both.
    "There were a bunch of cabs outside when I came here tonight," she said. Her voice had the slight tinge of an Italian accent, telling him she'd grown up in a family that interspersed English with the colorful native tongue.
    He pointed over his shoulder at Vita, the only business open after eight on the small North End side street. "No customers, no cabs."
    "No customers? Did you file bankruptcy between dinner and dessert?"
    He laughed, but the sound of it was a bit too bitter to be funny. "No, we just had a small fire."
    She raised an eyebrow. "Fire?"
    "Long story."
    "Oh." He could see she wanted to ask, but didn't. Someday, over drinks maybe, he'd tell her. Hell, with a face and a body like that, he'd tell her his credit card account numbers, too.
    They stood there a minute, in the uncomfortable silence of strangers who didn't quite know where to take the conversation next. Dante glanced again at her, standing in the soft pool of light across the street. His gaze traveled back down to his two new acquaintances.
    He figured he better make a move before some Red Top made him into a liar and came cruising down the street, taking her away and leaving him with a bunch of regrets and an empty shot glass. He crossed the street, noting how her eyes widened when he approached. Yet she didn't move, not so much as a flinch. One tough cookie. "You hungry?"
    She shook her head. "No. No, not at all. Really."
    He grinned. "Are you trying to convince me? Or you?"
    Her face reddened and she paused a minute before speaking again. "Me, mostly. I'm on a diet."
    "Why?"
    She gave him an are-you-crazy look. "I think that's pretty obvious." She spread her arms wide.
    Now that he was standing a foot away, he took his time perusing her voluptuous form. Much better close up. "Maybe you need a new mirror, because you look pretty damned good to me."
    "Maybe you need glasses."
    "Let me guess." He waved a hand toward the church behind her. "Chubby Chums support group?"
    "Yeah, how'd you know?"
    "They meet every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday night from seven to nine. After the others have gone home, a couple of them head over to the restaurant for the all-you-can-eat pasta special."
    "You're kidding me! Geez, and they bashed me for having manicotti for lunch."
    "Ah, the food of the gods, isn't it?"
    " Oh, yeah ." Her eyes rolled back and she smiled a contented smile that said the manicotti had been very, very good.
    He hoped his was better. A lot better. Because he definitely wanted to see her smile that way after eating one of his meals. He gestured toward Vita. "Come on, I know the owner. He'll fix you something nice. I promise."
    She shifted and turned on her high heels, causing her calf muscles to flex into little hearts, then release. Lord in heaven .
    "I... I really shouldn't," she said.
    He took a step closer. "I really think you should. You look like you've had a bad day."
    Her lips, full and glossed with cranberry, curved into a smile. "A bad life is more like it. But..." She glanced over at the restaurant, then back at him. She slid her coat on. "No. Thank you."
    "How about a salad? That counts as diet food."
    She swallowed and he could see the longing in her eyes, like a child