Something Wicked This Way Comes, Volume 2

“Maaaa,” Robyn whined, raising her head. “Can you please ask your brother to behave?”

“Bah!” Maria DiMarco waved that away. “Vito is harmless. Besides, he’s like a Band-Aid. Better to rip it off now than—”

“Nicky already gave me the Band-Aid speech.”

“There you go. Besides, it looks like your Jake is laughing.”

Her Jake. She wanted him to be her Jake. She just hoped tonight didn’t irreparably damage her chances.

Robyn sighed and decided to make the best of the situation. She was hungry and there was no turning back now. Besides, she thought, bemused as her gaze zeroed in on Jake, he really was laughing. She shook her head. The appreciation of rude noises was apparently a source of male amusement regardless of their roots.

“Your father is really taking to him,” Maria whispered. “I was a little worried he wouldn’t when you told us he wasn’t Italian.”

“So was I,” Robyn confided. “I guess being the former quarterback of Pop’s precious Bloods was close enough to Italian for him.”

Maria chuckled. “It would seem so.” She affectionately grabbed Robyn’s chin, forcing her to look up. “Come, baby. Enjoy yourself! I made all your favorite foods and I’d like to see you eat them.”

Robyn smiled. “I love you, Ma.”

“I love you too, bambina. Now have some fun!”

Robyn nodded. Taking a deep breath, she stood up and decided to behave like her usual, gregarious self. Jake would either love it or hate it. She decided it would be his loss if he hated it.

Jake watched, mesmerized, as Robyn danced to traditional Italian music with her father and cousins. Nicky had explained that the dance was called Tarantellay Napoletana and that it originated in Naples, the birthplace of the DiMarco family. It was beautiful—she was beautiful, and breathtaking.

He had fallen in lust at first sight with Robyn. He hadn’t expected something deeper to come from carnal attraction, but he’d be a damn liar if he said his thoughts hadn’t already strayed that way a time or ten. He loved everything about her. Her smile, her laughter, her conversation and her family. And then there was the small matter of her not exactly small body…

Fuck! There goes my dick again.

“My sister has always been a good dancer,” Nicky said with pride.

Jake shifted in his seat. He’d been so lost in thoughts of Robyn that he’d forgotten her brother was seated right next to him. “Yeah,” he hoarsely agreed. “She’s amazing.”

Jake cleared his throat and looked away from Robyn. He was pretty sure a change in scenery was the only thing that would help his dick go down. “Something ironic,” Jake said, glancing at Nicky. “She has the same name as my favorite suspense writer.”

Nicky grinned. “You want to know something more ironic?”

“What’s that?”

“My sister is your favorite suspense writer.”

It took a lot to startle Jake. Dominic DiMarco had managed to do just that. “Robyn is…she’s that Robyn?!”

“The one and only.”

“I thought those books were written by a dude!”

Nicky shrugged. “She never lets her picture get put on the jacket covers. Sexism, she says.”

“Sexism?”

“She told me female suspense writers aren’t backed by their publishers as seriously as male ones, so if they don’t have ambiguous names they usually take male pseudonyms. Robyn happened to have a name that could go either way.”

“Why don’t they back them?”

“Don’t know. Maybe they think suspense fans won’t read a woman’s work. Kinda like how romance fans probably won’t read a novel written by Bob Jones.”

“But she’s famous enough now that it wouldn’t matter.”

Nicky winked. “True. Robby doesn’t try to conceal it so much these days, but she does like her anonymity.”

Jake understood that particular desire all too well. Now that he was retired he wanted to fall off society’s radar and lead a normal life. Get married, have kids—that kind of stuff. He hoped the transition from football hero to average Joe wouldn’t be long in coming. It wasn’t like he was a movie star or rock singer.

Nicky continued talking, but his voice was drowned out by the music and Jake’s thoughts. Now Jake understood why Robyn had been inordinately fascinated yesterday by what he’d had to say about his favorite writer’s books—they were her books! He should have been angry that she’d semi-deceived him, but he wasn’t. She’d wanted him to like the real her, not the writer her. The same as he’d wanted Robyn to like the real him.

Jesus. In her own right, the woman was as famous as Jake. Had he thought being a quarterback would impress her? It hadn’t. She undoubtedly knew some of the same people he knew…she’d just chosen not to join their superficial circles. And now that Jake had gotten a taste of her world, he didn’t blame her.

Hell, he envied her.

Chapter Four

The last month had been pure bliss for Robyn. She and Jake had been all but inseparable. When she wasn’t working and he didn’t have to put in an appearance at some event he was still bound by contract to attend, they’d been together. In another month he wouldn’t have any contractual obligations remaining, and he’d already told her that he hoped that meant they’d be spending even more time enjoying each other’s company.

Robyn smiled to herself. She had always been the type who enjoyed dating, but she’d never wanted a guy around all the time. Jake, it seemed, was changing her mind.

But there was one rather serious problem…

Robyn blew out a breath as she stood on the balcony of Jake’s apartment. Inside, Jake was throwing a very belated Super Bowl party for his teammates and their significant others. Robyn was enjoying herself for the most part, but she didn’t have very much in common with any of the other female guests. They were the type of Manhattanites she’d spent her entire life avoiding—superficial, pompous and consumed with self-importance.

She’d always found “the trendies”, as she liked to call them, something of a conundrum. They were all about appearing classy, yet oblivious to the fact that their lack of tact and inclusiveness actually made them classless.

Besides, she had been raised on Mulberry Street. In Little Italy, people stuck together whether rich or poor, famous or unknown. Everything was about “the family” and “the family” included the entire community. Her world was so different from the Upper East Side, where “the family” included Me, Myself and I.

A chilly evening wind swept the balcony, causing Robyn to shiver. She took a few steps back into an alcove to hide her bare arms and legs from the elements. She knew she couldn’t stay out here much longer without appearing rude, but she’d really needed the mental break the solitude of the balcony provided. Just a few more preciously wanted alone minutes and she’d rejoin Jake inside.

The doors to the balcony swung open, catching Robyn off guard. She instinctively took a big step backward, farther into the alcove.

A gaggle of blonde women—fashion models, if she remembered correctly—walked out onto the balcony with champagne flutes in their hands. They were quickly joined by four men who still played for the Bloods. Robyn wondered if she should clear her throat so they’d know she was out here too, but the next words she heard caused her to decide against that.

“What the hell is Jake doing with that cow?” one of the blondes asked.

Another blonde giggled. “He’s parading her around like he actually thinks she’s pretty! Did he lose a