The Unwanted Wife (Unwanted #1)(23)
“Theresa, I don’t want you to think that—” Whatever he had been about to say was cut off when another car, this one an expensive metallic-blue Lamborghini, slid to a stop behind theirs. Sandro glanced over and swore when he seemed to recognize the car.
The sole occupant emerged from the car and Theresa could see him quite clearly beneath the bright lights flooding the driveway. He was a tall, dark-haired, gorgeous man about Sandro’s age, and he had a huge, friendly grin on his face as he strode over to them. Theresa found herself admiring his sexy, loose-limbed gait. He was dressed in similar fashion to her husband, just sporting a different name brand on his sweat suit.
“De Lucci!” He greeted her austere husband with a hearty slap on the back.
“Max.” Sandro nodded in return, not seeming to share the man’s exuberance. He turned to fully face the man and placed a peremptory hand in the small of Theresa’s back to turn her as well. He kept his hand there even after they were both facing the other man.
“Who’s this gorgeous babe?” Max turned that killer smile on her, and Theresa found herself unable to resist returning it. Sandro leveled a fulminating glare at the other man, who seemed to take his ill-humor in stride and grinned even wider.
“My wife, Theresa,” Sandro snapped curtly, the warning in his voice more than a little obvious.
“You’re married to this goddess?” Max kept his very appreciative focus on Theresa’s blushing face, and his grin became a smile of genuine warmth. “I always knew you were a man of impeccable taste, De Lucci, but I have to admit, my opinion of you has just skyrocketed!” He held out a hand toward Theresa, who took it after only the slightest hesitation.
“Charmed, I’m sure.” His smile gentled and he lifted her hand to his mouth, dropping a reverent kiss on the back of it. “I’m Max Kinsley.”
“Uh…T-Theresa,” she stammered, choking back a giggle at the man’s theatrics. She suspected that he was just trying to wind Sandro up, and it seemed to be working because her husband’s hand had curled into a fist in the small of her back. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Mr. Kinsley.”
“There will be none of this formality between us,” he admonished. “I’m Max and you are Terri! Or Tessa if you’d prefer. Now, please…allow me to escort you inside.” His grip on her hand tightened slightly as he tugged her toward him, but Sandro’s hand shot up to the elbow of her free arm.
“Her name is Theresa, and I will be escorting my own wife inside!” Sandro gritted out through his teeth, obviously holding on to his temper by the barest of threads.
“How remiss of me,” Max said with feigned regret, releasing her slender hand with exaggerated reluctance. “I’d completely forgotten that you were there, De Lucci!” Sandro made a slight growling sound in the back of his throat, and Theresa couldn’t stifle her giggle this time. Max looked delighted by the sound and stepped back with a jaunty little salute.
“We will continue our acquaintance inside, Tessa my darling,” he promised before turning away and bounding up the stairs leading toward the front door of the house. He had a tog bag, which she hadn’t previously noticed, slung over one broad shoulder.
“I like him.” She smiled up at Sandro, who was glowering at the front door through which Max had just disappeared.
“Don’t mistake his flirtation for anything more than it is, Theresa,” he muttered in warning. “He’s got a girlfriend.”
“I’m not a complete idiot, Sandro. He was needling you…quite successfully too, I might add.”
“Dio, this is not the best time to be arguing, Theresa.” He sounded weary. “Let’s try—”
“Are you coming in or what?” A voice interrupted whatever Sandro had been about to say and they looked up toward the house, where another tall, broad-shouldered man was silhouetted in the doorway.
“Come on,” Sandro muttered, taking her hand and picking up a tog bag similar to the one Max had been carrying. He led her to the front door, where the rugged man stepped aside to let them in.
“Hey, Sandro…” His casual greeting was followed by some more masculine back-thumping, and this time the friendly overture was returned by Sandro.
“Gabe.” Sandro nodded before tugging Theresa forward. “This is Theresa.”
“Theresa?” The man did a double take as he took a closer look at her, before he recovered from his astonishment with a warm smile. “I’m very happy to meet you. I’m Gabe Braddock.”
…And the penny finally dropped. Theresa stared up at the warmly smiling man and felt like a complete idiot for not connecting the dots sooner. It was Friday night, Sandro was dressed in his sports gear, and he had brought her to his regular bloody football game! How typical. The man certainly pulled out all the stops when faced with an obstacle, but this was just despicable and so unbelievably obvious. He had given her no warning whatsoever. No wonder he was such a successful businessman; he was a master at manipulating a situation to his advantage, and this was a classic example. Give the woman what she wants and maybe her rebellion will subside and she will get down to the business of being a human incubator.
“I’m so happy to meet you, Mr. Braddock,” she said softly, taking the man’s proffered hand and disguising her anger behind a sweet smile. “Why, just recently I expressed a wish to meet you!” She refused to look at Sandro but she sensed him uncomfortably shifting from one foot to the other. “And here we are.”