Page 30

I waltz into Gallio’s Galleria a few minutes early. The bell chiming above the door behind me grabs Luca’s attention immediately. He’s at my desk at the entrance, leafing through the binder I prepare for all of his showings, and when he sees me, his eyes pop wide open.

“Cara, honey, what are you doing here?”

“Um. I work here.”

He checks his shining gold watch and his thin black brows crinkle. “Yes, at eight-thirty, and here it’s only eight twenty-two.” He lifts his head and looks even more confused. “I do not understand.”

Shaking my head, I walk to him and playfully shove his shoulder. “I’m early. It’s not the first time.”

“Are you certain of this?”

I’m grinning now, silently laughing at this hottie of an Italian man who still carries the faintest of accents and proper language and shove him out of my way. Punctuality and I have never been the best of friends. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Ah, yes. Work, work, work. That’s all you’re concerned about. My question for you is, when do you play?”

He wiggles his black brows again, bouncing them up and down letting me know exactly what he’s implying.

My hand drops to my stomach, a small pouch visible to me but most likely not to others. Mostly it appears like I’ve constantly eaten four too many egg rolls. It’s not yet a cute pregnancy belly, just a bloated pouch. “I think I’ve played enough.”

“Yes, of course.” He rolls his eyes and strolls from my desk to pour me a cup of hot water. I’ve found hot water and lemon in the morning soothes my stomach. “And the man you play with is coming tonight, correct?”

Luca is hilarious and a big old ball of playful trouble. I’ve told him almost all about Braxton, holding back specific details, especially his looks. Mostly because Luca would be on that like white on rice, even if Braxton doesn’t swing that way. Luca admires the beauty in people, and he’s not afraid to show it. I just don’t need tohearabout what my eyes can see just fine all day long either.

“Yes, Luca, he’s coming.” He hands me my hot water and I take a small sip, testing the heat. “Thank you for this.”

“My pleasure, beautiful Cara.”

We get to work then, preparing for the deliveries coming later this afternoon. Originally we didn’t need additional help in setting up the gallery, but now Luca is forcing me to be cautious about the weight I lift. He’s hired two men to come and unload the tables and display walls where we’ll hang the remaining artwork from our basement storage. Once they arrive, I spend the rest of the morning directing them to where they need to be set up. After they leave, I adjust the tables to the precise location to show the best.

Luca yells at me twice to stop the heavy lifting.

I shake my head and keep working. It’s ridiculous how overprotective he’s become since learning I’m having a baby.

Today, I’m smarter than yesterday, keeping a small bag of snack foods—wheat crackers, almonds, and raisins—nearby so I can snack off and on, whenever I get the urge. When lunchtime rolls around, I’m not only still feeling well, but we don’t have much to do except adjust some of the artwork’s showcase lighting and finish covering the food and display tables with some accessories.

I smooth out a tablecloth where the wine and champagne glasses will be set, right next to where the bar will be, when the door chimes.

I turn as Braxton waltzes in, holding two paper bags in one hand and tugging off his gray knitted hat with the other.

“Hi.” My hands slip down my hips, smoothing out my black dress pants just to give my hands something to do. “What are you doing here?”

He holds up the paper bags and walks toward me. “I brought you lunch today so you don’t get sick.”

Heart. Melt. Puddle. Floor. My entire body seems to liquefy. He’s a miraculously sweet man in the body of a gladiator and continues to throw me off course.

“Thank you. That was really nice of you.” I’m breathless. It’s his fault. No one should be so niceandattractive. I don’t know what to do with him.

“Not a problem.” His gaze takes a quick tour around the gallery, hesitating on some of the already displayed artwork before dropping back down to me. “This place is incredible. Did you do all this?”

“Um. Yeah, most of it, with Luca, the owner. Thanks.”

Free food delivered and compliments are too much for this hormonal girl to handle.

“Is there somewhere we can eat this?” he asks.

“You’re staying?” I can’t hide the further surprise in my voice and Braxton’s confidence slips for a moment.

“I’d planned on it.”