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preparing for our dear Palmentieri.”
    Bernice was a close friend of Palmentieri’s? The young Italian tenor was already on his way to becoming the next Pavarotti.
    “I’m conducting a business meeting at the moment, Bernice.” He didn’t bother to hide the fact that he was suddenly gruff. “If you don’t mind, I’d rather chat about this tomorrow at Bella Luna.”
    Michaela couldn’t believe Paolo was dismissing the producer’s wife. Had he lost his mind in the other room? Her spirits perked up when she realized that he’d just leveled the playing field. Maybe she wasn’t doomed after all.
    “But what about tonight?” Bernice’s lips turned downward into a petulant pout. She fiddled with a strand of hair that artfully escaped the confines of her teased and lacquered hairdo. “I came all the way over here to finalize things.”
    “Please understand, tomorrow is better, my dear.” Michaela heard the softening in Paolo’s tone. He was speaking to the middle-aged woman as if she were a child. “I’ll make your favorite pasta and a decadent dessert and give you my full attention. What do you say?”
    Paolo’s cajoling tone seemed to work, because Bernice gave him a benevolent smile. “Oh, all right. I’ll be there tomorrow at eleven thirty before the lunch crowd arrives. Paolo.” Her bejeweled hands squeezed his biceps as she got up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheeks. Ciao ,
    Forget it—Michaela was still toast. Who could pass up homemade pasta and a decadent dessert in the form of a hunky chef? Bernice was acting excessively chummy with Paolo. What was their real connection?
    “ Perfecto .” Paolo’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, nor was it as warm as usual. His dimples barely made an appearance before returning to grooves beside his stiff mouth.
    Bernice gave Michaela a malevolent stare. “Good-bye.”
    “Good-bye, Mrs. Blumenthal,” Michaela said quietly.
    When Bernice left, Paolo turned to Michaela with a grave expression. “I’m afraid we have to end the evening now. I have some personal matters to attend to.”
    “Oh…okay.” Michaela felt awkward and wondered why Paolo was dismissing her the same way he had Bernice. “So…we’ll meet tomorrow evening at the spa and I’ll cook?”
    “Yes.” His voice sounded strained, as if he was holding something back.
    She lingered for a moment, taken aback by his hardened demeanor and the taut lines of his suddenly stern mouth. Michaela hardly recognized him. Gone was the carefree Paolo of earlier, replaced by a man on edge.
    “Is everything okay? You look upset,” she said cautiously.
    “A big problem has come up, but I can’t get into it now.”
    Michaela nodded. “I understand. I’ll gather my stuff.” She got her purse and briefcase and headed toward the door. The air was charged and not in a good way.
    “Well…good-bye, then.” Michaela turned the handle and let herself out.
    “ Ciao .” Paolo stood at the open door as Michaela waited for the elevator.
    She was surprised when he didn’t offer to go down with her. Something was definitely wrong.
    The elevator doors opened and a beautiful blonde girl burst forward holding a small suitcase clutched against her very pregnant belly. Huffing and puffing, she pushed another suitcase with her foot.
    “Paolo!” The girl dropped her bag and ran into his open arms. He enveloped her in a tight hug and stroked her long hair, murmuring something in Spanish. The blonde’s crimson, flushed face scrunched up pitifully. “I’m worried about the baby. I can’t raise him alone! I need you.” Her plea made Paolo flinch.
    Michaela got in the elevator and watched them, riveted to the drama.
    “Everything will be fine.” His face bleak, Paolo patted the girl’s back. “Don’t worry.”
    “I should have stayed away, but I don’t want to be a single mother!” she sobbed.
    “Don’t talk like that,” Paolo said firmly.
    The elevator doors shut just as Michaela’s jaw dropped to