A LITTLE BIT OF SUGAR (10 page)

His mouth widened into a grin. “And you thought I was sick from going on the rides?”

“You had just come home from being at the park,” I pointed out.

Anthony chuckled and shook his head. “So that’s what this is all about. You picked Cedar Point to get back at me for the Sausage Queen thing?”

I couldn’t deny it, so I just sat staring at my hands in my lap.

He leaned closer, his mouth just inches from mine. “Then you felt guilty,” he continued. “And you tried to get me to back out of our date. Am I close?”

I lifted my gaze to meet his. “Yes. And you can still back out. I’ll understand.” All I could think about was how good he smelled. Whatever aftershave it was he always wore, it was killer. No wonder girls fell into drool-mode whenever Anthony was around.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Gina, but I wasn’t sick from going on the rides.”

“You weren’t?”

“No, I was sick from drinking too much beer.”

“You were drunk?”

“We were young and stupid. And, yeah, I was drunk.”

I was floored. All this time I had thought...

I looked up at him. “So I don’t have to wear a full body rain suit when I go on rides with you?”

He laughed again. “I think you’re safe.”

I let out a sigh of relief and then turned to him. “So there’s nothing torturous about my making you bring me here?” I couldn’t help but sound a little disappointed. After all, this date was my payback for his putting me on the ballot for sausage queen.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he replied with a grin. “I’m feeling pretty tortured right now.”

“Now?”

He nodded. “You can’t believe how badly I want to kiss you.”

‘
Maybe you can distract him from going into the park by making out with him in the parking lot.’
Carlina’s words ran through my mind as I sat there looking into Anthony’s dark eyes.

Even though there was no longer a reason to avoid going into the park with him, I decided to take my friend’s advice and put Anthony out of his misery.

Turning in the seat, I curled my arms around his neck and pulled his mouth down to mine. The moment his lips touched mine I knew this thing I felt, this thing between us, was right.

He growled deep in his throat, like the tiger he was, and kicked the kiss up a notch. He was good. Real good. Like the biggest, fastest rollercoaster in the park, he was exciting. Breathtaking. So much so that nearly every single female in Little Florence wanted to get in line for the Anthony Carboni ride.

That last thought reminded me of why I’d been avoiding a relationship with Anthony for so long. Bringing my hands up between us, I pushed him away.

“Gina?”

“I can’t do this.”

“You were doing pretty well if you ask me.”

“That’s not what I mean,” I said with a groan.

“Okay, blame it on my being a guy, but I’m lost here.”

I turned away to look out the front window. It was safer than looking at Anthony and his sexy grin. “I don’t want to be just another girl waiting in line for a ride that’s going to be over as soon as it starts.”

He stared at me for a long moment. “You can’t kiss me because the rides aren’t long enough?”

He sounded as confused as I felt. I shook my head. “Yes. I...I mean no. Well, sort of.”

“Gina,” he muttered, dragging a hand back through his hair with an exasperated sigh.

“I’ve seen how many girls have come in and out of your life, Anthony, and I’m not ready to step into that revolving door.”

“So I’ve gone from being a park ride to a door?” His confused frown slid into a grin. “Gina, I’ll admit I’ve dated a lot. And usually not for very long.”

“See there,” I said. “That’s why I can’t date you. You’re not a long-term relationship kind of guy. And I’m too confused about my life already to add falling for a guy like you into the mix.”

“My relationships didn’t last because those girls weren’t you.”

“That’s what I...” I looked up at him. “What did you say?”

“I want to be with you. I have for a very long time, but you were still in school so it didn’t seem right. I didn’t think your father would appreciate some guy taking you away from your studies. But now that you’re out of college...”

He wanted to be with me? My heart skittered wildly in my chest. “Are you crazy? My dad would have married me off to you at birth if it were legal.”

He arched a dark brow. “Am I crazy? I’m not the one comparing someone to an amusement park ride.”

I had never been happier in my life than I was at that moment. “I guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. The rest of my family is nuts. I might as well be, too.”

He slipped his arm around me and pulled me back to him. “I happen to like apples.”

“I’m glad.” So glad I thought I would burst from the happiness I felt at that moment. “So does that make this our first real date?”

“The first and definitely not the last if I have anything to do with it.”

I smiled and leaned toward him. “Then I guess it’s okay for you to go back to kissing me.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It had been nearly three weeks since Anthony took me to Cedar Point. Three weeks since we ‘officially’ started going out. My family was thrilled – especially my father. A future with Anthony would mean his grandchildren would have Italian blood. Not that I was even thinking about babies at this time in my life.

My friends were all offering me ‘I told you so’s’. And they had. I had just been too afraid of getting hurt to listen. Who would have thought that it was my day of suffering as Little Florence’s Sausage Queen that had turned things around for me and Anthony?

Dating him was better than I ever imagined it would be. He treated me great and was really supportive of my ongoing search for my true niche in life. Not that I was getting anywhere fast on that front, but I was working on it.

It was a good thing my love life was going so well, because my job situation had gone from bad to worse. I’d gotten in trouble for forgetting to leave the balloon bouquet at my first singing telegram appointment. Then I’d had to do the gorilla thing and sang to the wrong person. I couldn’t help it if the stupid mask made it hard to see who I was singing to. Needless to say, I’d lost that job.

After my short run doing singing telegrams, I took a job doing telemarketing calls. Getting hung up on constantly sucked. I’d rather have worked as the person who puts the ‘inspected by’ stickers inside of underwear. Needless to say, that job ended quicker than the last.

My new ‘roomies’ gave me job leads whenever they came across them, but they weren’t much better than the other ones I’d had. I think they gave me bad job leads on purpose. They loved coming home to find a kitchen full of cupcakes and pies and other sweets. The worse my day at work went, the more I baked.

Now here I was, standing in Gigi’s Maternity Boutique with a stupid throw pillow shoved up under the oversized shirt I’d been given to wear that day. I was a model. Not the sexy, half-dressed, strutting down the runways of Paris kind of model. I was a window model for a flippin’ maternity store.

How desperate was that for a job choice? It just proved I was willing to do almost anything not to have to move back home. I loved my family, but I also loved my independence.

A little boy stuck his tongue out at me as he and his mother walked by the store. I did it right back at him and not in a playful way. I was PMS-ing, not to mention the fact that I’d been standing there for hours and hours while people stopped to gawk and point at me. My feet hurt and my back ached. And I wasn’t even pregnant!

I’d had enough. I yanked the pillow out from under the shirt and stepped off the window platform through the opening in the frilly white curtains that backed it.

“Gina?” the manager said in surprise. “What are you doing?” Her gaze shifted down. “And where’s your stomach?”

I lifted the oversized shirt to show her. “
This
is my stomach. I’m not pregnant. And after this experience I’m not sure I ever want to be.”

“What are you saying?” the older woman asked as she peered at me over her rhinestone embedded glasses.

“I’m saying I quit!” I told her as I headed into the dressing room to change back into my clothes.

That was it. I had done it again. Another job down the drain. I was pathetic. A loser.

I grabbed my cell phone from my purse and called Anthony at work on my way home.

“Hello?”

“I’m destined to become a bag lady,” I whined.

“Gina?”

“Who else would it be?” I sniffed as tears blurred my vision.

“With an opening like that, it could only be you,” he replied.

I was so upset I couldn’t speak.

“Gina? Are you crying?”

“Yes.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m a failure. That’s what’s wrong,” I sobbed. “And I can’t see you anymore.”

“You’re breaking up with me?”

“I don’t have a choice. I’m not about to pull you down into the gutter of joblessness with me.” I hiccupped a sob. “Be happy, Anthony.” That said, I hung up and tossed my cell phone back into my purse.

There, I’d done the only thing I could. Anthony deserved better than me. Someone he could be proud of. Not years down the road, introducing me to his business acquaintances as my wife ‘the loser’.

I drove back to the townhouse, crying like a baby. I’d done the right thing, I kept telling myself. Anthony could have any girl he wanted. He didn’t have to be stuck with one who was a complete and utter failure.

The place was empty when I got home. Not that I’d expected anyone to be there. They all had jobs they liked and were good at. Unlike me.

I hung the strap of my purse over the post at the foot of the stairs and then headed into the kitchen. I needed to bake. All it took was a little bit of sugar to make me forget my troubles. I would lose myself in my confectionary creations.

Not quite an hour later, I was whipping up a second bowlful of chocolate batter and feeling somewhat better. A knock sounded at the front door. I debated not answering it, but relented and grabbed for a dishtowel to wipe off my hands as I made my way out to answer it.

I gasped when I opened the door. “Anthony?”

“I would’ve been here sooner, but one of the guys was using my truck.” He looked mad and at the same time worried. “Were you expecting someone else?”

“What?”

“Is there someone else, Gina?”

Where had he gotten that crazy idea from? I shook my head. “No. And you can’t come here.”

“Why not?”

“Because we broke up.”

“Consider us un-broken up.” Anthony stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “I worked too hard to get you to give you up that easy. Talk to me, Gina. What’s wrong?”

Tears filled my eyes again. “How am I supposed to have a successful relationship with you when I can’t even decide what I want to do with my life? Let’s face it, Anthony, I’m a failure at everything I do.”

He pulled me close. “You are not a failure.” He ran his finger across my cheek and put it to his lips. “Raspberry?”

“What?” I touched my cheek and felt the sticky sweetness. “Oh, I was making chocolate cupcakes with raspberry filling.”

“Baking again, huh?”

“I can’t help it. I enjoy it,” I said defensively. I didn’t want everything I did to be considered stupid. “And it happens to be the only thing I’m good at. Damn good.”

He smiled down at me. “You won’t get any argument from me there. Did you ever stop to think that maybe the reason you can’t find your dream job is because you’re already doing it, only without pay?”

“What?”

“Come with me.” He took me by the hand and led me back into the kitchen. “What do you see?”

I looked around. “A mess?”

“Try again.”

My gaze took in the measuring cups, mixing bowls, pans, and all the other baking supplies I used almost nightly. “I see something I love to do.”

“Exactly. Being a good cook is in your blood. Only instead of making Italian dishes like your mom, you make desserts. If this is what you love to do, then do it.”

“I am,” I told him.

“Not just for stress relief. Do it for a living.”

My head was spinning with the possibilities. One thing I didn’t doubt was my ability to make great desserts. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Start with a little bit of sugar,” he said, taking the words right from my earlier thoughts.

“I know that. I’m talking about turning it into a business.”