clenched and he swore. âFor Godâs sake, Rena. Iâm not about to force myself on you. But we will sleep in the same bed.â
Rena glanced at the bed, then up at him. âI understand.â
âAh, hell.â He rolled his eyes at her robotic answer. âYouâd think weâd never had sex before. Mind-blowing, earthmoving, do-it-until-we-canât-breathe-anymore sex.â
Rena nearly tripped over her own feet backing up, his statement stunning her. Her face heated, and her body shook a little. Speechless, she lowered her lashes, fighting off memories of their lovemaking. Heâd been blunt but accurate in his description. âThatâs when â¦â she began, almost unable to get the words out. âWhen we were in love.â
âRight.â Tony tossed his overnight bag on the bed. He pulled out aftershave lotion, deodorant, razors and a hairbrush. âYou have a place I can put these?â
She pointed to the master bathroom. âItâs small, but you should find some room on the counter.â
Sheâd taken Davidâs things out of the bedroom, unwilling to have that daily reminder of his absence. But sheâd yet to remove his clothes from the closet. Sheâd be forced to now. Tony would need the room, and unlike his home with massive walk-in closet space, her closets were barely big enough for two people.
She held out hope that heâd get disgusted with her small three-bedroom house and move back to the estate where heâd be ensconced in luxury.
Rena opened her closet and began gathering up Davidâs clothes to make room for Tonyâs. Before she knew it, Tony stood beside her and placed a stopping hand on hers. âYou donât have to do it now. Youâre exhausted.â
âIt needs doing. I just never could faââ
âIf it makes you feel better, Iâll do it.â
âNo,â she said with a shake of her head. âI should do it.â
Tony grabbed both of her hands while they were still on the hangers. He stood close. So close that she noted the golden flecks in his dark eyes. âOkay but not today. It can wait. Agreed?â
She nodded, breathing in his subtle, musky scent. A lump formed in her throat thinking of his stirring kiss before. She didnât want to be attracted to Tony. Sheâd gotten over him a long time ago, yet when he touched her or looked deep into her eyes or kissed her, emotions rolled around inside. And made her nervous. âIâll make dinner.â
âThank you.â
She strode out of the room, confused by what she was feeling and angry for feeling anything at all.
Rena stirred the spaghetti sauce, watching as little bubbles broke on the surface sending a pungent, garlic scent into the air.
âSmells great.â Tony came up behind her, his body close again, surprising her in how quietly he appeared in her kitchen. He reached for the wooden spoon. âMay I?â
She handed it to him. âI hope you donât mind pasta tonight.â
âAre you kidding? Iâm Italian. You know I love pasta.â He stirred the sauce, then lifted the spoon to his mouth, tasting it.
âWhat do you think?â
âNeeds a little salt,â he said, then grabbed the salt shaker and added a few shakes. âThere.â
âYou like to cook, donât you?â
He shrugged. âI get by. When a bachelor wants to eat, heâs got to know more than how to boil water.â
âI didnât think youâd ever have to cook a meal for yourself.â
Tony continued stirring the sauce. âWhen my gourmet chef was off, I had three other servants waiting on me hand and foot.â He turned to her and grinned.
âYouâre teasing.â
âYeah, Iâm teasing.â Then he set the wooden spoon down and stared at her. âIâm not going to apologize for how I live. Iâve earned it. Racing has afforded me a good life. But there were sixteen-hour work days, long lonely times on the road. Times when I had to cook for myself when I longed for a home cooked meal. Eating out is overrated.â
âThere must have been plenty of women happy to cook for you. Never mind,â Rena said, catching herself. She didnât really want to know. âForget I said that.â
Tonyâs expression changed, and he gave her a quick shake of the head. âYour image of me is way off.â
Rena pursed her lips. âIt really doesnât matter.â
Tony grabbed her arms gently as steam rose up from the sauce and bathed them in heat. âYes, it does matter. Iâm your husband. I care what you think of me.â
Rena stared into his eyes, unable to answer. She had mixed emotions when it came to Tony Carlino, but for the most part, she didnât want to see any good in him. She wanted to keep him a safe distance away in her mind and heart.
When he realized she wouldnât respond, he let her go and she went about filling a big pot of water for the pasta noodles.
Tony watched her work at the stove for a long while before he spoke again. âWhat can I do to help?â
Grateful to give him something to do, she barked orders. âTake out the romaine and tomatoes from the refrigerator. I think thereâs a cucumber in there, tooâand anything else you can find for a salad.â
She heard him going to work, and much to her surprise, he fixed a delicious salad, and, adding black olives and herbs, he made his own olive oil-based dressing.
When she walked over to taste it, she cast him a nod of approval. âYummy.â
âMy motherâs. One of a few recipes I learned from her before she died.â
Tonyâs mother died when he was fifteen. Rena hadnât known her, but sheâd heard she was a saint among women. Sheâd have to be in order to be married to Santo Carlino. Rumor had it sheâd kept him in line. When she died, Santo poured himself into building his business taking no prisoners along the way.
âAnd you remembered it,â Rena said. âItâs funny the things we remember about the ones we love.â
âWhat do you remember about your mother?â he asked.
Rena smiled wide, recalling her motherâs favorite pastime. âThatâs easy. She had a morning and nightly ritual of walking three miles. No matter how tired she was, no matter the weather. Sheâd get into her walking clothes, put on these beat-up old shoes and go for a walk. She said it cleared the mind, cleansed the soul and kept the weight off.â Rena grinned, confessing. âMy mama liked to eat.â
Tony chuckled. âThatâs a good way to remember her. Walking, I mean. Not eating.â
âHmm, yeah.â Rena blinked herself back to reality. Even with all her exercise, her mother still contracted a deadly disease. Sheâd lingered for years, missing her daily walks and everything else that required a bit of effort. It was a brutal reminder of the unfairness in life.
Once the meal was ready, they sat down to eat at her country oak kitchen table. She wondered what Tony thought about this rustic house. To her it was home, and she wasnât ashamed of it. Through the years, sheâd put personal touches throughout, cheerful curtains, comfy sofas with throw pillows sheâd sewn, refinished tables, armoires and cabinets. When she looked