Until There Was You(10)

“We have a date tonight,” Posey protested.

“What time and where?” Jon asked.

She hesitated. “Nine-thirty. His place.”

“Call me after,” Jon said. “I have to go. Believe it or not, home-ec teachers have papers to grade. Ciao, bellissimas! Oh, and Posey, just in case things don’t work out with Dante, I’m teaching a singles cooking class for the adult-ed program. You’re welcome, too, Kate.”

When she closed up shop later that day, Posey came upon James’s book about finding birth parents in the cushion of the sofa. She’d never looked for her birth family. Max and Stacia were her parents, the end. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Of course she’d wondered. Conjured the typical fantasies as a child. To say that Max and Stacia—especially Stacia—were overprotective was an understatement. Every time Posey wasn’t allowed to go to the public pool with her friends (“The pool? The pool? That’s where people get kidnapped!”) or was whisked to the E.R. to rule out concussion (“But she bumped her head, Doctor! She has a lump! You think it might be a tumor?”), she’d imagine more mellow parents, parents who didn’t view sauerkraut as a daily necessity for a healthy diet, parents who were—forgive her—cooler, younger, more hip.

But aside from that, no. Max and Stacia were wonderful, and she’d never been inspired to find her roots. She tucked the book in her backpack to make sure she got it back to James, then went home to get ready for her date. If it was a date. Jon and Kate had a point.

In eight weeks, she’d seen Dante six times. That seemed like dating…sort of. The truth was, Posey’s record with men was a little sporadic. Ron the Gay had been pretty great, the whole “we both like boys” thing aside. You’d think a woman with a g*y brother would sense a tremor in the Force, but no. One night, as they were curled up in front of CNN, Posey had admitted to wanting just one hour alone and na**d with Anderson Cooper. “Who wouldn’t?” Ron had murmured appreciatively. Then they’d looked at each other, realization dawning for both of them. Ron later wrote an article for GQ magazine: “How Anderson Cooper Helped Me Out of the Closet.” He still sent Posey Christmas cards.

Then there’d been Jake—perfectly nice, a carpenter she’d hired as a subcontractor for a job in Maine. It was his suggestion that she get breast implants that ended their thing. Kind of hard to overlook that. A few first dates here and there, sometimes a second or third date, once in a great while a fourth…but no. Posey hadn’t been in a real relationship for quite a while.

So Dante needed to pony up, Posey thought as she held the truck door for Shilo, who gazed at her beseechingly until she hefted him in. She wanted a real boyfriend. Even if she had a great dog and three cats. And especially—this was a little hard to admit—but especially because Liam Murphy was back in town. Having a boyfriend would just put him to rest, that was all. Make her feel a little safer.

To be honest, Dante Bellini’s interest had been a surprise. He was suave and urbane—not words she’d have pinned to herself, that was for sure. Extremely good-looking in that Mediterranean way. Extremely well off, too, which certainly didn’t hurt his appeal. He lived in Midnight Cove, a complex of gorgeous condos on the water. The ocean, not the river, which offered a much more working-class view. It might be a case of opposites attract, but clearly there was something there.

Yep. Time to shore up the defenses. Dante liked her. They’d slept together six times. She’d head home, put on pretty underwear and girl clothes, tell Dante how she felt, and he’d say yes. He probably wanted the same thing.

“YOU DON’T?”

“It’s not that, Posey. I just don’t have the time right now. The restaurant. You understand, I’m sure.” Dante smiled, his white teeth glinting like a pirate’s against his swarthy skin. “But I really do enjoy spending the time with you, even though it’s not enough time.” He handed her a glass of wine and reached out to touch her neck.

“Um, right.” The fire crackled in the fireplace, and across the cove, the lights of other houses gleamed discreetly. Posey shifted on the leather couch. She kept sliding down, and it was irritating. “It’s just that we can’t stay at this level forever. I mean, I’m not asking for a ring and a date, Dante. But don’t you want to…move things forward a little? Do stuff together? Meet my parents?”

“God, no,” he said, then seemed to realize what he’d said. “I mean, I’m sure they’re nice people. It’s just that they hate me.”

“Well, they don’t hate you per se,” Posey murmured. “It’s more your restaurant.”

“Right. Even so.”

She took a deep breath. “Okay. Look. We’ve been, um, together for what…a few weeks?” Eight weeks, Dante. Six times. “But I’d like to go out to dinner once in a while. Catch a movie. Be able to…be seen with you, Dante. I like you. You’re fun. This isn’t really enough for me.”

“And you’re fun, too,” he said, smiling.

“So…it’s not like I’m naming our babies, I promise,” Posey said.

“I know. But Inferno needs every spare moment. This, though…this is perfect.” He picked up her hand and kissed it.

“Huh,” Posey said, slumping back against the couch and sliding down yet again. Dante took this as an invitation to kiss her neck. He smelled awfully good… Whatever shampoo he used, she was sure she couldn’t afford it. She sighed…not in rapture, either. Dante’s hand moved under her shirt. She grabbed it. “Okay, wait a sec.”