and Bailey’s search for a job to pay it back. “When I phoned Mama today, she confirmed that she’d told Bailey to drop in.” Mateo dropped his gaze to the glass he rotated between his fingers. “Mama also asked me to watch out for her until she can make amends with her father.”
“Trouble there too?”
“I’m sure whatever’s gone on before could be sorted out with one or two calm conversations.”
“Family rifts aren’t usually that easy to solve.” Alex took a long sip of scotch.
“Either way, it’s none of my business.”
“So where’s Bailey staying?”
“I said she could stay with me—just for a few days.” Alex coughed as if his drink had gone down the wrong way. Mateo frowned. “What?”
Alex tried to contain his amused look. “Nothing. I mean, Bailey seems very nice.”
“But?”
“But nothing, Mateo. I’m only surprised that you’ve opened your home to her. You haven’t done that in a while.”
“You mean since Linda.” Mateo slid his glass onto the side table. “This isn’t the same.”
Alex studied his friend’s face and, inhaling, nodded and changed the subject.
“What’s happening with the vacation?”
“I haven’t made any firm decisions yet.”
“But you’re still going to France, right?”
It was more a statement than a question. His annual pilgrimage to Ville Laube was a duty he never shirked. But, of course, it was more than simply an obligation. He enjoyed catching up with the people who ran the orphanage. Although seeing the children conjured up as many haunted feelings as good. Each year he saw so many new faces as well as those who had lived there for years.
One little boy was a favorite. Remy had turned five last visit. Dark hair and eyes, solemn until you pitched him a ball—any kind. Then his face would light up. He reminded Mateo of himself at that age. Leaving Remy last year had been difficult.
When he returned this year, Mateo hoped that little boy was gone. He hoped he’d found a good family who would love and support him. He wondered what kind of man Remy would grow into. If he would learn from the right influences. Whether he’d always have plenty to eat.
Mateo confirmed, “I’ll go to France.”
“Maybe Bailey would like to go too.”
Mateo all but lost his breath. Then he swore. “You’re not trying to step into Mama Celeca’s matchmaking shoes, I hope.”
“Just an idea. You seem … interested.”
“You saw us together for less than a minute.”
“It was all the time I needed to see that you think she’s different.”
“Hold on.” Mateo got to his feet. “Just because you’ve found the one, doesn’t mean I need to be pushed down any aisle.”
“Maybe it’d make a difference if you didn’t fight it quite so hard?”
“Fight what?”
Both men’s attention flew in the direction of that third voice. Natalie stood in the living room doorway. While Mateo withered—was Bailey a step behind, within earshot?—Alex pushed to his feet and crossed to his wife.
“Nothing, honey,” he said, stealing a quick kiss. “Is the baby okay? How’s Bailey?”
“Judge for yourselves.”
When a stylish woman, wearing an exquisite pink cocktail number and glittering diamond drop earrings, slid into the room, Mateo did a double take then all but fell back into his seat.
Bailey?
While the bikini-girl turned glamour-queen crossed the room, looking as if she’d worn Chanel all her life, Natalie clasped her hands under her chin and exclaimed, “Isn’t she gorgeous?”
Mateo knew he was smiling. He wanted to agree. Unfortunately he was too stunned—too delighted—to find his voice.
“The first time Mateo and I came to this place, we were twenty-two,” Alex explained as a uniformed Maxim’s waiter showed the foursome to a table next to the dance floor.
“Twenty-three,” Mateo amended, his hand a touch away from Bailey’s elbow as they navigated tables of patrons enjoying their meals and tasteful atmosphere, including tinkling background music. “You’d just had a cast off your arm after a spill on your skateboard.”
“You rode a skateboard at twenty-three?” Natalie laughed as she lowered into a chair the waiter had pulled out for her.
Alex ran a finger and thumb down his tie. “And very well, might I add.”
While the waiter draped linen napkins over laps, Bailey tried to contain the nerves jitterbugging in her belly. She’d dined at similar establishments, although not since her mother had died. In the old days her family had enjoyed dinner out at least once a week, but never to this particular restaurant. Wearing this glamorous dress and these dazzling earrings, not to mention the fabulous silver heels, she felt as if a magic wand had been waved and she’d emerged from her baby throw-up moment as a returned modern-day princess. For a day that had started out horrendously, she was feeling pretty fine now. Not even tired. Although catch-up jet lag would probably hit when she least expected it.
Until then she’d lap up what promised to be a wonderful night.
Some people you couldn’t help but like. Natalie and Alex were that kind of folk. And Mateo … she’d wondered what he’d be like in friends’ company. His smile was broader. His laugh, deeper. And when his gaze caught hers, the interested approval in his heavy-lidded eyes left her feeling surreal and believing that tonight they might have met for the first time.
“I must confess,” Natalie said, casting an eye over the menu. “I love not having to think about the dishes.”
“I help with that,” Alex pointed out, teasing.
“And I love you for it.” Natalie snatched a kiss from her husband’s cheek then found Bailey’s gaze. “Do you like to cook?”
“I’m no expert. But I would like to learn how to prepare meals the way they do in Italy.” The dishes she’d enjoyed there had been so incredibly tasty and wholesome.
Natalie tipped her head toward Mateo. “You know your date’s a bit of a chef?”
Her date?
Hoping no one noticed her blush, Bailey merely replied, “Really?”
“We go over for dinner at least every month,” Natalie added.
Mateo qualified, “Nothing fancy. Just a way of remembering home.”
“His crepes are mouth-watering,” Natalie confided.
Bailey thought for a moment. “Aren’t crepes French?”
“Mateo spent his first years there.” As soon as the words were out, Natalie’s expression dropped. “That probably wasn’t my place to say.”
While Mateo waved it off, Bailey puzzled over what the drama with France could be. He must have seen her curiosity.
“I lived in an orphanage the first six years of my life.”
All the air left Bailey’s lungs as images of dank, dark corridors and rickety cots with children who lacked love’s warm touch swam up in her mind. She couldn’t imagine it, particularly not for Mateo Celeca. Her lips moved a few times before she got out a single, “Oh.”
“It wasn’t so bad,” Mateo said, obviously reading her expression.