The Playboy's Proposition(12)

Michael paused a second and shot Bella a glance that seemed to say we did it your way, now we're doing it my way.

"I hate to interrupt, but I had planned to ask Bella to join me for  dinner tonight," Michael said in a charming voice that almost concealed  the steel underneath.

Charlotte dropped her jaw and stared at Michael then at Bella. "Oh, I didn't know you two were-"

"We're not," Bella quickly said, inwardly wincing at the lie. She glared  at Michael. "I'm just as surprised as you are by the invitation."

Cool as ever, he dipped his head. "If you're hungry, then … "

An awkward silence followed where Bella refused to give up her mutinous stance.

"Of course she is," Charlotte rushed to say, then glanced at Gabriel as  if she didn't know what to do with him. "I will give you a special  coupon for our sports treatments," she added as she walked him to the  door. "Now, you be sure and tell your mother I said hello … "

"You agreed," Bella whispered tersely to Michael.

"It was necessary. This is becoming ridiculous. Things will be easier now. Trust me," he said in a low voice.

"You don't under-" She cut herself off as Charlotte returned.

"Michael, I'm so glad to see you," Charlotte said. "I wanted to show you  some of my ideas. Bella, would you help me get some things from the  inventory closet?"

Upset by the latest turn of events, Bella nodded and followed her aunt  to the walk-in supply closet. Charlotte immediately turned to her.  "What's your problem? Michael Medici is gorgeous."                       
       
           



       

"He's not my type," Bella said.

"Gorgeous and wealthy isn't your type, plus, he's been wonderful to us.  It won't hurt you to be nice to him in return," Charlotte said firmly.

"It won't?" Bella asked. Charlotte met her eyes and instantly knew what Bella was talking about.

"This is not the same situation as your mother. Get that thought out of your mind. Michael isn't married to a woman."

Bella closed her eyes, struggling with guilt and shame. "He's not Stephen."

"No, he's not," Charlotte said. "Michael Medici is a stronger man than  Stephen ever was. I never was quite sure Stephen was the best match for  you, anyway."

"Charlotte," Bella said in shock. "You always liked him."

"I like dogs, too. Doesn't mean I want you to marry one. Now go on out  with Michael and enjoy yourself. It hurts me knowing that you aren't  having any fun in your life right now. Life is short. You need to live  it while you can."

Charlotte pulled out some magazines and product catalogs and put them into Bella's hands. "Here, take these."

"What are you going to tell Michael about them?"

"I'll figure out something," Charlotte said.

An hour later, Bella sat silently in Michael's Viper as he drove the  luxury car. Drumming her fingers on her denim-clad thigh, she looked out  the window, still upset.

"Would you like seafood?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter, but I'm not dressed for a four-star restaurant since this was a surprise invite."

Michael pulled up to the valet desk at one of the more exclusive,  popular restaurants he owned in the Atlanta area. "It doesn't matter how  you're dressed. You're with me and this is my restaurant," he said and  got out of the car.

He escorted her inside the restaurant where the host immediately greeted  him. "It's good to see you, Mr. Medici. We have a corner alcove for  you."

"That will be fine," he said, touching Bella's arm as they walked to the  table. She was so prickly he half expected her to swat him off.

Baffled by her reaction, he shook his head. Many women he'd dated had  done everything but taken out a billboard ad announcing their  involvement.

"For goodness sake, why are you so cranky? You'd think I murdered one of your relatives," he said after they sat down.

"I told you that I didn't want my aunt to know about our arrangement. You agreed."

"She doesn't know about any arrangement. All she knows is that I wanted you to join me for dinner."

"We were supposed to keep this secret."

"That was before she started interfering in order to get you dating. Why did she get so worked up anyway?"

"She knew about my breakup. She knew the guy I was involved with and how  much I-" She broke off and shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I just  didn't want her to know. And you agreed."

A server appeared, eager to please. He explained the evening specials.  Michael ordered a whiskey double for himself and a Hurricane for Bella.

"Hurricane?" she said after the waiter left.

"It seemed to fit with your frame of mind."

Her lips twitched, albeit reluctantly.

"So tell me why you changed your mind about letting your aunt know I  want to ask you out for dinner. And I want to know more about this man  who you dumped after you got back from your year in Europe."

"First, I didn't dump him. He broke it off with me before I arrived home."

"Really?" he said. "What an idiot."

Her lips twitched again as the server returned with their drinks. "Very flattering. Thank you."

"Lobster or steak?" Michael asked. "Or both?"

"I'm not that hungry."

"Both for the lady," he said, deciding for her. "Make the filet medium. I'll take the same, but make my steak rare."

"Of course, sir," the waiter said.

"I want to know more about this imbecile who dropped you," he said.  "I'll bet he's kicking himself up and down the street for his stupidity  now."

She gave a reluctant chuckle and shook her head, sighing. "He's engaged to a beautiful blonde."

"Oh," he said and took a sip of his whiskey. "Lucky for me."

"You are the very devil himself," she said, shaking her head again and  taking a sip of her potent drink. "End of discussion about my ex."

Not likely, he thought, but shelved the subject for the moment. "Fine.  Why are you overreacting about your aunt knowing we're seeing each  other?"                       
       
           



       

"Because we're not seeing each other. We have an agreement," she said bitterly and looked away.

He narrowed his eyes, sensing there was more to the story. "What else is  going on? There's more. I can see it on your face. This isn't just  about you and me."

She frowned, but still didn't meet his gaze. "I didn't tell you  everything about my mother. She was living in California when she died,  but she wasn't married. She was the mistress of a wealthy, powerful man.  A married man. I vowed never to get into that situation."

Michael paused a long moment, searching his mind for the best approach.  "So that's why you're uncomfortable about your arrangement with me. This  is different."

Her head snapped up. "What do you mean? I may as well be your mistress.  I've made an agreement in exchange for your assistance and support."

"For one thing, I'm not married. Never will be for that matter.  Secondly, you made that choice for the sake of someone very important to  you. I don't get the impression your mother did the same. Besides, I  wouldn't have even made the offer if I didn't believe there was a chance  of making the business a success."

She stared at him in surprise. "Really?"

"Really," he said. "I broke a few rules of my own for you, but not all  of them. So we're on more equal ground than you imagined. You can enjoy  your lobster and steak without remorse."

She looked at him, her mesmerizing eyes glowing at him, doing strange  things to his insides. "Interesting," she said. "If we're on equal  ground, then I'd like to ask you some questions."

Michael's gut clenched. "Such as?"

"Favorite dessert?"

He blinked then chuckled at her curiously. "Tiramisu."

"Your Italian roots are showing."

"I could prepare a lasagna for you that would make you forget every other pasta you've ever eaten."

"True?" she asked.

"True," he said.

"Okay, you're on. I want that lasagna. When is your birthday?"

"Next month, but I don't celebrate it," he said.

"Why not?"

"It's just another day. Why do you ask?"

"Because I want to know more about you. How did you celebrate your  birthday when you were young?" she asked. "Before your father died."

"With a favorite meal, small gifts and dessert. That was a long time ago."

"You haven't celebrated it since you reconnected with your brothers?" she asked, a sliver of outrage in her voice.

He shook his head. "We're all too busy. Sometimes they remember to call. That's more than I got when I was in the foster home."