She pointed at him again because she still couldn't talk, and he just grinned. "Yeah," he said. "I bet you do. And now I know what I'm going to be thinking about for the rest of the day."
"You'll be too busy catching the bad guys, remember?"
"I'm real good at multitasking," he said.
She let out a laugh, though it was rusty as hell. It'd been awhile since she'd found something funny. Not that this changed her idea of him. He was still too sure of himself, too cocky, and she'd had enough of that to last a lifetime. But she also was good at multitasking and could both not like him and appreciate his sense of humor at the same time.
What she couldn't appreciate was when his smile turned warm and inviting, because for a minute something passed between them, something she couldn't-or didn't-intend to recognize.
"Maybe I could call you sometime," he said.
Before she could turn him down politely-and with surprisingly real regret-the little cupcake twins came running, leaping at him, one of them yelling, "Daddy, Daddy, Daddy! Look what we got!"
Catching them both with impressive ease, Mark stood, managing to somehow confiscate the cupcakes and set them aside before getting covered in chocolate. "Why is it," he asked Lanie over their twin dark heads, "that when a child wants to show you something they try to place it directly in your cornea?"
Still completely floored, Lanie could only shake her head.
Mark adjusted the girls so that they hung upside down off his back. This had them erupting in squeals of delight as he turned back to face Lanie again, two little ankles in each of his big hands. "I know what you're thinking," he said into her undoubtedly shocked face. "I think it every day."
Actually, even she had no idea what she was thinking except . . . he was a Capriotti? How had she not seen that coming?
"Yeah," he said. "I'm one of them, which is why I get to bitch about them. And let me guess . . . you just decided you're not going to answer my call, right?"
Most definitely, not but before she could say so out loud Cora was back, going up on tiptoes to kiss Mark on the cheek. "Hey, baby. Heard you had a real tough night."
He shrugged.
"You get enough to eat?" she asked. "Yes?" She eyed his empty plate and then with a nod of satisfaction, reached up and ruffled his hair. "Good. But don't for a single minute think, Marcus Antony Edward Capriotti, that I don't know who sneaked your grandpa the cigars he was caught smoking last night."
From his seat at the table, "grandpa", aka Leonardo Antony Capriotti, lifted his hands like who me?
Cora shook her head at the both of them, helped the girls down from Mark's broad shoulders, took them by the hand and walked away.
No, Lanie would most definitely not be taking the man's call. And not for the reasons he'd assume either. She didn't mind that he had kids. What she minded was that here was a guy who appeared to have it all; close family, wonderful children, a killer smile, hot body . . . without a single clue about just how damn lucky he was. It made her mad, actually.
He took in her expression. "Okay, so you're most definitely not going to take my call."
"It's nothing personal," she said. "I just don't date . . ."
"Dads?"
Actually, as a direct result of no longer trusting love, not even one little teeny, tiny bit, she didn't date anyone anymore, but that was none of his business.
He looked at her for another beat and whatever lingering amusement he'd retained left him and he simply nodded as he slid his sunglasses back over his eyes. "Good luck today," he said. "You really are going to need it."
And then he was gone.
He thought she'd judged him. She hated that he thought that but it was best to let him think it. Certainly better than the truth, which is that the problem was her, all her. She inhaled a deep, shaky breath and turned, surprised to find to not just Cora watching, but his sisters, grandpa, and several others she could only guess were also related.
Note to self: Capriotti's multiplied when left unattended.