He had noticed. She didn’t think he would miss much and his entire focus had been on her. Of course he had noticed her heightened breathing, the rise and fall of her breasts, her wild heart singing. “It didn’t feel the way I thought it would,” she confessed.

The waitress was back with her tea and a goblet filled with fresh-squeezed orange juice. She was so busy looking at Ricco that she nearly dropped the teacup into Mariko’s lap. Ricco caught it before it hit her. Her hands were directly under his when the teacup fell into his palm.

He glanced up at the waitress even as he held the empty teacup. “Perhaps you would send Imeldia to me immediately.”

The girl bobbed her head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Ferraro, I’m really sorry.”

“You owe Ms. Majo the apology, not me,” he said softly, but his voice was a lash and the waitress winced, her color rising.

She looked at Mariko. “I’m so sorry.”

Mariko inclined her head. “No harm was done. I’m fine.” She smiled up at Ricco, who settled back in his chair and gently put the teacup on the table. “Thank you.” He had fast reflexes. He was across the table yet he’d risen and caught the teacup before she had – and she was fast. She’d always been fast. That was something she would have to remember.

The waitress hurried away, her head down, tears in her eyes.

“She’s young,” Ricco said. “Still in high school. This is her first job and she’s a little starstruck. Some people really enjoy the races and drivers can be considered celebrities.”

He was being modest. The Ferraro family owned a prestigious international bank, the Ferraro hotels, and several casinos. As a family, they were considered in the billionaire category. She’d done her homework. Not one single thing she’d discovered about Ricco had confirmed that he was a criminal. He played hard – too hard. He partied hard. He liked women – a lot of women. He was fearless. Dominant. In control when the world he played in seemed utter chaos. Even without all her problems, she could never keep up with a man like Ricco, or hope to satisfy him.

She liked that he recognized that the waitress was very young and he wasn’t angry with her for acting so silly. She waited in silence while Imeldia hurried to their table.

“You need to talk to our waitress, see if she can handle waiting on our table, Melda,” he said, his voice indicating he was friends with the hostess. “I think she’s having a difficult time of it.”

“She said she nearly dropped the teacup in your friend’s lap,” Imeldia acknowledged. “Rita is friends with my youngest sister, Alessa, and insists she needs the work. Her parents were killed a few years ago, and she and her younger brother, Maso, have lived with us ever since. Rita wants to pay her own way and take care of Maso, although my parents insist the two of them aren’t costing them any more than my sister and me. I think they both want to be part of the family business more than anything else and not be a burden to my parents – which they are not.”

Mariko’s heart clenched. For a moment she couldn’t breathe or think. Chaos reigned in her mind. The waitress was a young girl trying to earn her keep as well as her brother’s. She glanced toward Rita with new respect. She’d been that young girl and she knew how difficult it was to be the one always having to accept charity. In Rita’s case, it sounded as if the people she was with genuinely cared about her. She resolved to find out.

“No harm done. Reassure her and see if she feels she can continue. Maybe tell her a little less hair flipping and more paying attention to my woman would get her a better tip.” Ricco’s voice was gentle.

Imeldia’s eyes went wide with shock and she glanced at Mariko, her mouth forming a perfect O. Ricco didn’t seem to notice what he’d called Mariko, or how possessive he sounded. He certainly was giving Imeldia the wrong impression, and word would spread like wildfire that Ricco Ferraro had claimed a woman if he wasn’t more careful. She knew from reading the tabloids that it wasn’t his style, he was the one-night-stand type, other than maybe the exception of the Lacey twins, actresses making a name for themselves, getting lots of publicity whenever they were with Ricco.

“She’s a little starstruck, Ricco.”

“Even with that she managed to remember everything without writing it down. I watched her wait on some of the other tables. She’ll be an asset here.”

“I think so as well.” Imeldia turned away with a small smile, weaving her way through the tables, stopping every few minutes to talk to someone.

“That was nice of you,” Mariko acknowledged. “Many people in your position would have been really ugly to the waitress, maybe even gotten her fired.”

Something crossed his face, disappointment perhaps, she couldn’t quite catch it, and then his features were entirely expressionless. “Is that what you think of me? That I would use my status as a Ferraro to get a young girl fired?”

His face might not give anything away, but his voice held just enough of that disappointment she’d seen slip across his features seconds earlier. The lash made her wince. His gaze held hers, forcing her to face him with her accusation. She had thought that just from reading the tabloids. Investigating a Ferraro was difficult. No one knew anything at all personal about the family. Everything was speculation or clearly made up for headlines. Maybe the rumor about the Lacey twins wasn’t real, either.

“I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. I merely thought it was sweet of you that you didn’t do what others in your position might.” She chose each word carefully. She found she hadn’t liked upsetting him and she didn’t want him to think she thought badly of him. That wouldn’t fit with the image of a woman taking such an intimate job with him – at least she told herself that was the reason she was so cautious.

He sat back in his chair, his gaze on her face. Compelling. Intense. She’d never been under such open scrutiny. “How is it you aren’t with a man? You’re beautiful. You’re intelligent. You’ve got an amazing voice. I could listen to you talk forever.”

He flashed a small smile at her and it lit up his dark eyes for just a moment. The lines etched deep in his face softened and that ghost of a smile made her stomach do somersaults and a flutter started deep.

“Not that you talk much.”

“You’re very intimidating.” She had resolved to stick as closely to the truth as possible. “I didn’t expect that.”

His eyebrow shot up. “I’m intimidating?”

“You know you are.” She was certain of that.

He burst out laughing, and even that was low and sensual. The man couldn’t do anything without sounding or looking sexy. He had a way of focusing so completely on her that he made her feel as if they were alone and she was the only woman in his world. That low tone he used created an intimacy between them. She hadn’t expected to like him at all. More, she hadn’t, not even for one moment, considered that she might be attracted to him – and she was. The moment their shadows connected, the attraction had been intense, and it continued to grow with every moment spent in his company.