The Devil Served Desire Read Free Page A

spying a new bike in a department store window. "What kind?"
    "Whatever you want. The chef will take care of you, even custom-make something if you don't like what you see." He grinned. "On the menu, I mean."
    Her smile turned flirtatious. "How can you be so sure?"
    "Trust me."
    "I don't even know you."
    He put out a hand. "Dante Del Rosso."
    She hesitated only a second, then took his hand. Her fingers were long and delicate, yet strong in their grip. Despite his better sense, he pictured her fingers grasping a very different part of his anatomy. His body temperature spiked like an August heat wave.
    "Maria Pagliano."
    He didn't let go right away. "Have a salad with me, Maria Pagliano. I've had a hell of a day, too."
    She tilted her head, considering.
    "Listen, I don't bite, my shots are up to date, and if you want a reference, my sixth grade teacher is listed in the phone book."
    Maria laughed, a full, hearty sound that seemed to come from some well deep within her. "Okay."
    As they crossed the street, the lights over "Deliziosa" came on again. Dante took that as a sign.
    Actually, a damned good sign. Maybe his luck was about to change. As long as he kept Vinny away from anything flammable, things were bound to improve.
    Dante glanced at Maria and decided they already had.

Dante's Taste-of-Heaven Tortellini Temptation
     
     
    2 tablespoons unsalted butter
    2 ounces minced ground pork
    2 ounces minced ground turkey
    2 ounces finely chopped sausage
    2 ounces minced mortadella
    1/2 cup grated Parmigiano Reggiano
    Pinch grated nutmeg
    1 pound fresh pasta dough, made with your own two hands
    Salt and pepper to taste
     
    In a large skillet, heat the butter over medium heat, watching it melt while you're thinking of the beautiful woman you want to impress. Add the meats and sauté until cooked thoroughly. Remove from heat, add the remaining filling ingredients, choosing only the best quality for her. If needed, dice additionally in a food processor so everything is even and beautiful. Set aside.
    On a lightly floured surface, roll out the pasta dough (or use a pasta machine) to a thickness of 1/8 inch. Drop 1/2 teaspoon of filling along the length of the dough, about two inches apart. Then carefully cut the dough into squares with a pastry wheel.
    With a pastry brush or your finger dipped in water, moisten the dough around the filling. Don't overdo this because you want it to be a perfect tortellini circle. Fold the squares into triangles and press the dough to mold around the filling.
    Shape into the sexy curves of a belly button with your pinkie, pressing the ends together very well—don't want this to come undone; much better for her to do that when she eats this delight
    Allow tortellini to rest on a floured tea towel for at least an hour while you cook up something else with the pretty lady at your table. Later, boil in salted water, being careful not to crowd the tortellini.
    Serve with a meat sauce and a good red wine. Cap the meal with a kiss and a promise of more dessert to come.

Chapter Three
     
     
    As soon as Maria entered Vita, she knew she'd broken the first cardinal rule of dieting—never, ever surround yourself with the very temptation that had contributed to the problem in the first place. If Dante hadn't been holding her hand, she'd have turned and run away, as far as her high heels could take her.
    The aromas of the restaurant ganged up on her, teasing and tempting like a hundred dancing virgins in front of a sultan. Garlic bread, fresh Parmesan, simmering pasta sauce, sweet ricotta. Her stomach, which had settled into quiet complacency, roared to life, screaming gimme, gimme, gimme .
    A portly man with a friendly face came around the mahogany lectern in the reception area, his hands extended in greeting. "Welcome to La Vita Deliziosa, the Delicious Life." The words rolled off his tongue with all the romantic beauty of her mother tongue.
    She'd seen the restaurant a hundred times. The North End was, after