A Family Affair: The Secret (12 page)

“So, did some woman really send you see-through panties?”

Okay, this was not a conversation he was having with her. Roman ignored the question and the curiosity on her face and said, “You’re really nosy, do you know that?”

Big smile. “Hah! It’s true.” The smile flipped to a frown and a loud, “What woman would do that?” Her gaze inched from his chest to his eyes. “And why?”

She really did sound confused. Well, he’d enlighten her on the many reasons a woman would send him lingerie. And baked goods. Candy, too, like the three different packages that showed up at the front door around dinnertime. “I’m a catch; women want to let me know they’re interested.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re a catch all right.” The smirk on her face said she thought he was about as great a catch as a stick on the other end of a fishing line.

“What do you know,” he muttered under his breath. Her next words let him know she’d heard—crystal clear.

“I know when a guy’s getting played, and you, Roman Ventori, are getting played.” She shrugged and tossed more barbs at him. “That woman isn’t as sweet and innocent as she seems.”

“And you could tell that how?” Charlotte might be sad, even heartbroken and a little desperate, but the woman was still sweet and innocent;
that
hadn’t changed.

“Intuition.” He tried not to laugh when she pointed to her head. “And I saw the way her eyes narrowed on me and her nostrils flared like a rabid dog when she spotted me. She didn’t like that I intruded on your rendezvous. Humph!” Angie Sorrento crossed her arms over her chest, tapped her sneakered foot. “You know, the past has a way of blurring the truth, making us forget what was for what we want it to be.”

It was damn hard to take a woman in red high-topped sneakers seriously, especially when she was tapping that sneakered foot in staccato. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do that.” She jerked her head in a nod. “Now if we’re done discussing your love life, can we talk about how we’re going to work together on the replication of this place?” Pause. “Your father wants it, and you and I both know you’re not going to let him down.”

The whole town was talking about Roman’s secret admirers. Some said they’d heard the rumor that Roman Ventori was available and looking. That prompted them to send their goodies his way: pies, cakes, cookies, jams, chocolates, two bottles of bourbon, and the much-talked-about see-through lace underwear that bore the stamp
and
the name of that hussy, Natalie Servetti.

Roman dragged the towel from around his neck, wiped his face, and sucked in a breath. He’d left the house before anyone was awake, in part because he needed to get his run in, but the other half had to do with the questions his parents had been hammering at him since the first gift arrived at their door two days ago.

Well, isn’t this interesting? Not one admirer, but several
, from his mother.

And his father,
Nobody ever brought me pies and cookies.
Pause
. I’ve got a taste for a slice of lemon meringue pie. Mind if we cut into it?

Pop Benito had stopped over, too, acted like he had no clue how Roman’s relationship status had gone viral in Magdalena, but Roman knew the man was behind it. This had to stop. A guy could only eat so many pieces of pie and stuff so much chocolate in his belly before he went into sugar overload, and the lace panties, courtesy of Natalie Servetti? Yeah, that was not really an announcement he cared to share with the whole town. Most of all, he was damn tired of seeing the sanctimonious expression on Angie Sorrento’s face and her overblown know-it-all attitude, as one gift after another poured in and she found out about it.

Who the hell was telling her?
And why? He swiped the towel over his face again, blinked sweat from his eyes. It had to be his father and Pop, and it had to be because they thought he and Angie Sorrento had a shot at a relationship and a baby. Right. When hell froze over twice.

“Roman? My goodness, look at you!”

He swung toward the voice that pulsed with sex and lots of it. “Hello, Natalie.” If seduction had a name, it was Natalie Servetti. Toned, tan, and more beautiful than she’d been in high school, she stood a few feet away, her dark gaze making no effort to hide her blatant perusal of his person, starting with his neck, sliding to his chest, belly, lower still where she lingered before dipping to his thighs, calves, then back up again. “My, oh, my, you’re all grown up.”

Roman slung the towel over his shoulder, grinned, and took in the second-skin peach sundress. “I could say the same about you.”

Her full lips pulled into a slow smile that might suck the air from a less experienced man. “You could.” Pause, a flick of dark hair over her shoulder. “How long will you be staying?”

He shrugged. “Not sure yet. Depends on my father.”

“I hear you’ve got a string of women vying for your attention.” Before he could respond, she tapped a pink nail against her chin. “And I hear I’m one of them.”

He should have known Natalie wouldn’t be shy about telling him what she wanted. Roman pictured the scrap of lace in the black box she’d sent. Word had it she favored lace panties…or no panties. He coughed, sputtered, and cleared his throat. “About that gift…”

“Yes, about that gift.” She stepped toward him and a swirl of coconut melon invaded his senses. “I didn’t send those panties.”

Roman looked up, stared. “What? But the note had your name on it.” From what he remembered, Natalie had a reputation for not exactly telling the truth, but why would she lie about not sending the panties, especially if her purpose was to get his attention?

“I didn’t send them.” Her smile wobbled seconds before it fell flat. “I bet you’re wondering how I know what was inside the box if I didn’t send them, aren’t you?” When he nodded she said, “Because this isn’t the first mystery box that’s been sent with my name on it.” Her eyes grew bright, and she murmured, “Three last week, and now yours. They’re always panties, lace, see-through—” her words spilled out one on top of the other “—like the kind I wear. Were these black or red?”

“Red.”

She nodded, shoulders slumping. “Figures.”

“Natalie, why would somebody pretend to be you?”

The look she gave him said he ought to be able to figure that one out. “Come on, Roman, think about it. I know you’ve been gone a long time, but some things don’t change.” She paused and her blue eyes turned bluer, brighter. “Like reputations. I did enough over the years to deserve the town’s hatred, but I’m not that same person anymore.” She must have seen the doubt on his face because she clutched his arm, said, “I’m really not.” And then, “I met someone.” Those last words slipped out part confession, part prayer, part dread.

“You did?” That could mean anything with a woman like Natalie. “Why don’t we head over to that park bench and you can tell me all about it?” He didn’t particularly want the town gawking at him and Natalie, creating more gossip where there was none. The bench sat in a shaded area of the park—away from busybodies and too-curious onlookers. She nodded and followed him to the old bench that had been around since Roman was a boy. This one resembled several others throughout the park with couples’ names carved on them. Roman had carved his and Charlotte’s initials on the back of a bench several yards away. He’d wanted to do his handiwork in large block, on the center of the seat, but fear that his old man would find out and make him sand every bench in the park kept him from such a gallant display of affection. He turned to Natalie and said, “Tell me about this guy.”

Her eyes sparkled, her face blushed the palest pink, and her voice shifted, not the voice of a seductress, but that of a woman in love. He’d only seen that look a few times: with Jess in the beginning, with the guy who bought Roman’s Porsche, and of course, with Charlotte. “His name is Robert.” Hushed words, spoken with reverence. “He’s an accountant. I met him at a ballroom dance class.”

“A what?”

She smiled and shrugged. “A ballroom dance class. I took one about an hour from here.” She shrugged, lowered her gaze. “You know, so nobody would recognize me.”

“Oh. Good. I’m happy for you.” Everybody deserved a second chance, why not Natalie Servetti? Okay, so maybe it wasn’t going to be that easy for her, seeing as she’d probably wrecked a few relationships and couldn’t just claim “do-over,” but what the hell? If she said she’d changed, who was he to question it? Though he might tell her she’d look more convincing if she lost the second-skin outfits.

“Of course, I can’t bring Robert to Magdalena.” She paused, bit her lower lip. “Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

Roman rubbed his jaw, considered this. “How’s that going to work? The man’s going to wonder about your family.” Or had she kept Robert the Accountant too busy with “other things” to think about family? With a woman like Natalie, it would be damn easy to get distracted.

She looked away, said in a quiet voice, “I made up a story. I told him I…was a physical therapist and had spent a few years in Denver, but just moved back to the area and had to wait for my license to practice in New York State.”

“Huh.” He scratched his head, studied her. There’d been another Servetti in high school, the quiet, studious one. Kind of plump, no nonsense. Hadn’t his mother told him she’d become a physical therapist? It was hard to keep the gossip straight, but he swore she’d told him that, and something about that Servetti marrying a cop. “Isn’t your cousin a physical therapist?”

Natalie expression turned to pure misery. “Yes.” Who would have thought a single word could contain such pain? “In all of my life I never thought I’d end up wishing I were my cousin, Gina.” She sniffed, sniffed again, but that didn’t stop the tears from spilling. Crap, he hated tears.

“You…want to be like your cousin?”

She shook her head, more tears slipped down her cheeks, to her chin, landed on the neckline of her peach sundress. “Yes. No. Kind of. I just want the part I told him about me being the physical therapist to be true. But that’s not me.” Pause, a swipe of hand across her cheek. “That’s Gina. See what I’m saying?”

He dragged a hand over his face, focused on her words. Women were the most confusing creatures; they said one thing but meant another or they said nothing and meant something. Why couldn’t they just lay it all out there, so a guy could understand it the first time around? And better yet, say it in three sentences or less? “So, you want him to think you’re a physical therapist because…”

“It’s impressive. What do you think he’d say if I told him I did nails and facials?”

She must really like the guy if she was ready to create a persona that had nothing to do with the real Natalie Servetti. But why did she need to do that? If Robert cared about her, she should be able to be who she was. Roman considered this. Or…maybe not. This wasn’t about Natalie doing nails and facials for a living; this was about Natalie wanting to erase a past she regretted.
That
, he got. “You’ve got to tell him.”

Her voice cracked, split open with heartache and pain. “I can’t. He thinks I volunteer at the library and teach Sunday school. How can I tell him the closest I’ve come to the library or church was the parking lot?” Her cheeks turned scarlet. “In a car. In the back seat?”

Damn, but he felt sorry for her. “Maybe you can break it to him slowly, start with mentioning you dated a lot back in the day, and make sure you slide in the part about nobody being like him. It’ll make the truth a little easier on him.”

“Oh, Roman, we both know what I did with those men couldn’t be called dating. I stole boyfriends and husbands, and I never thought about what I was doing or why. All I wanted was the next fix, the next man to tell me how desirable I was, so beautiful, so perfect. But it was all a game; they used me as much as I used them. And you know what happens when you finally realize that? It almost destroys you. I really care about Robert, like,
really
care, and now I don’t know what to do. If I tell him, I’ll probably lose him, but if I don’t, then what? I’ll live every day wondering when I’ll be found out.”

“You have to tell him, Natalie. If it’s meant to be, you’ll work through it. I’m not saying it will be easy, but you’ll find a way to make it work.” Listen to him, giving advice on relationships as though he actually knew what the hell he was talking about. If he were such a relationship guru, he’d still be with Jess. Or maybe he wouldn’t have been with her in the first place.

Her bottom lip quivered, her eyes misted like she was getting ready for another round of tears. “I know. I do know.” She tried to work up a smile, managed half of one. “I need a little time. Robert’s taking me to meet his grandmother next weekend. She lives in a small town outside of Albany. After that, I’ll think about how to tell him.”

“Okay. Sure.” He heard the words, but not the conviction in them. How could he fault her for avoiding a conversation that could end her relationship when he’d done the same with Jess, for a hell of a lot longer than a week?

“I do have a favor to ask.” This time she did get the smile in place, a real one, too.

“A favor?” What kind of favors did a guy do for Natalie Servetti? That was a loaded question, but if she really had changed, the answer would be more straightforward, less dangerous.

“I want you to help me find out who’s sending men lace panties and pretending to be me.”

***

“You want us to help Natalie Servetti?” Nate Desantro’s face shifted to soot, his words spewing out in a snarl of disgust. “I’ll forgive you for asking, this time.” Another snarl, coated with more disgust. “Do it again, and I won’t be so nice about it.”

Roman raised a hand, zeroed in on Nate Desantro’s dark gaze, the flared nostrils, the twitching jaw. Yeah, this guy was pissed and ready to blow. “Hey, I didn’t mean any disrespect, I’m just trying to help right a wrong.”

“Right a wrong?”
This from Ben Reed, Magdalena’s town cop. The man’s snarl was almost as fierce as Nate’s. “Do you have any idea what she did to this guy?” Those blue eyes turned to ice. “She almost destroyed his marriage with her bullshit shenanigans. There is no helping that pariah, you got that?”

“Damn straight.” Cash Casherdon clenched a fist, pounded it on the table. “She tried to put the moves on Ben, too, like he would look at her when he has Gina.”

“She made her bed,” Nate ground out. “Let her smother in it.”

Ben nodded, added, “She thought every man was fair game, married, engaged, dating… I say she’s on her own.”

“Yup.” Cash lifted his beer, took a healthy swallow, his gaze on Roman. “I say that sounds about right.”

Roman finished his beer, considered his options. It would have been helpful if Natalie had owned up to the extent of her “dating” before she asked for his help and insisted he include the other three men at this table in the hunt to expose the panty gifter pretending to be her. Yeah, it sounded like Natalie had a little more reforming to do in regard to what the truth looked and sounded like, as in, she should have told him these men might not be so eager to help her out, and she should have told him why. Still, he knew what getting blackballed and ostracized looked like, and that’s what made part of him want to help her. “Natalie screwed up big time,” Roman said, eyeing each man before swinging his gaze back to settle on Nate. “She was selfish, cruel, inconsiderate—”

“A bitch,” Cash Casherdon said with a cold smile. “A selfish bitch who hurt a lot of people and broke up a lot of relationships.”