Chiara’s lips twitched.

  Damian figured that Chiara had done more than a little convincing to persuade her husband that this meeting was worthwhile. For some reason, Mia’s sisters-in-law were ready to throw him a lifeline. But then he assumed it took women as strong as Mia to handle the Serenghetti brothers.

  Rick ruffled his son’s hair.

  “Well, we’ll be going then,” Chiara said lightly.

  Rick brushed her lips in a light kiss. “You look great, and I’m glad you’re dressed for the weather. It’s hot out there.”

  “Happy you like the dress.” Chiara threw a significant glance at Damian. “It’s a Mia Serenghetti design. Isn’t it fantastic?”

  Smoothly done.

  Chiara turned, leading Vincent away. “Enjoy...your talk.”

  Rick said something under his breath as both he and Damian took their seats again.

  “Looks like the Serenghettis may have another stunt man in their midst.”

  “Not if Chiara can help it,” Rick supplied shortly. “But since we’re on the topic, what’s the purpose of this stunt you’re pulling? I mean, this meeting.”

  “I’ve got a proposition, and I need your help.”

  “And I’ve got a news flash for you,” Rick responded dryly. “Serenghettis and Musils don’t help each other.”

  “They don’t date each other, either.”

  Rick’s gaze flickered for an instant. “A lapse in judgment on my sister’s part that I hear she’s since rectified.”

  “Then why did you agree to meet me? Aside from Chiara’s influence, that is.”

  Rick’s gaze flickered again. “I’m not supposed to say this, but Mia is torn up. She blames herself for my parents’...predicament.”

  Damian felt like a jerk. “I want to make things right with Mia.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  Yeah. But Damian had dealt with long odds before.

  “Once my sister has made up her mind, it’s hard, if not impossible, to change it.”

  “I know.”

  “So you must be delusional or—”

  “I care about her.” I can’t stop thinking about her. I want to be with her.

  Rick regarded him silently but eventually sighed. “Okay, spill it.”

  “I want you to help your mother start her own production company.”

  Rick said nothing for a few seconds. “Nice, but where will the show be slotted?” he probed. “An online streaming service?”

  “I want to keep broadcasting Flavors of Italy but I’d like the show to get a fresher look. The goal is to grow the audience but keep the name of the program.” He’d gleaned a few things from watching Camilla’s show, not only as a viewer, but also as a shrewd entrepreneur.

  Rick played with an empty coaster on the table. “You know, I was mulling the idea of having the Serenghettis produce the show ourselves. I own a production company, but it’s only dealt with feature films up to now. It’d be better if my mother was set up with her own shop.”

  Great. If Camilla had a new production company, the problem would be solved—or half solved. Damian could deal with the rest from his end.

  “But why would we need you?” Rick asked pointedly. “My mother could get broadcast anywhere.”

  “I’m assuming your mother still attaches some value to being on her hometown station. On the channel where she started and viewers are used to seeing her.”

  “Right, the Welsdale station that you now own. A fact you didn’t share with my sister.”

  “I didn’t know about the Serenghetti connection.” Had Mia mentioned that part? Then he shrugged. “I’m not much of a cooking show kind of guy.”

  “If you hang around my sister much longer, you will be.”

  That’s what I’m counting on.

  “Well, we agree on one thing,” Rick conceded. “My mother needs her own production company.”

  Mia’s brother hadn’t exactly agreed to cooperate, but he’d given Damian an opening.

  One Damian was ready to make the most of. He needed Rick to persuade the other Serenghettis... Time to seal the deal.

  SIXTEEN

  For her last show, Camilla announced that she wanted to make a millefoglie Italian wedding cake.

  Mia mentally shrugged. She thought the choice was a little odd, but maybe her mother was putting the best face on a bad situation with her trademark optimistic style.

  “We will assemble the cake right here,” her mother said, speaking to the camera, “and with the help of some special guests.”

  Guests? As far as Mia was aware, she was the only guest.

  “Mia figlia, Mia Serenghetti...and the new owner of this television station, Damian Musil.”

  The audience clapped.

  Stunned, Mia watched Damian stride onto the set.

  What was he doing here? Still, her bewildered senses feasted on him. He was tall, commanding...and seemingly relaxed. He looked as good, if not better, than when she’d last seen him. Dark hair, bedroom eyes, chiseled features, and muscled body in slacks and an open-collar shirt. Her heart felt a pang. He’d have a new girlfriend in no time.

  When they’d last parted, he’d been cool and distant. Now he was all smiles and insouciance.

  Fortunately, the TV camera wasn’t trained on her at the moment, so she had an instant to compose herself.

  She soon narrowed her eyes fractionally at her mother. What was she up to? Or had Damian demanded to be put on air—so it wouldn’t seem like he was the bad guy who’d ended the show? Someone had some explaining to do...

  Mia cut off the flow of thoughts racing through her head. Because there was no more time to think. Because Damian was up on stage, standing beside her, joining her and her mother in the worst cooking show casting ever.

  While the camera focused on Camilla, Mia leaned slightly toward Damian. “What are you doing here?”

  “Lending a hand,” he muttered back, keeping his smile in place.

  “And your good name.”

  “Something for everyone,” he replied easily. “Smile for the camera, Mia.”

  “For a Musil, you sure go out of your way to associate with Serenghettis,” Mia responded in a low voice, while her mother continued her explanation of baking for the benefit of the studio audience and the television cameras.

  Damian glanced at her, his eyes gleaming. “Maybe you’ve changed my mind.”

  Mia felt heat stamp her face. At least they weren’t live. If necessary, she could muscle her way into the production room later, and beg and plead for some strategic editing.

  But first, she had to survive this taping. She’d already downgraded her expectations from helping to make this episode her mother’s best ever to...surviving. Wonderful.

  After a producer trotted on stage to outfit Damian with a microphone, she and Damian worked together under her mother’s direction to mix the ingredients. Why, oh why, did it have to be a wedding cake?

  It was a running family joke that her brothers and their wives had appeared on Camilla’s show and soon after had gotten married. Well, she and Damian were about to break the mold.

  Mia wasn’t sure how she was going to make it through today. It was like the heat of a thousand suns. The audience...her family...the wedding theme... Damian. If she was still standing at the end of this episode, she’d plunge headfirst into the cake...

  “Now Damian, Mia has helped me in the kitchen before, so you are the secondo assistente, sì?”

  Mia nearly rolled her eyes.

  “Millefoglie means a thousand layers in italiano,” Camilla said. “The millefoglie wedding cake is molto popolare in Italia.”

  Mia scanned the audience, and her gaze came to rest on her family, including her father and brothers, sitting in the back. Why was no one glowering at Damian? Or better yet, jumping on stage to start an argument, so the show could go off the air with a real bang? Maybe they were all here to support her mother no matter what?

  “First we will mix the ingredients for the vanilla custard,” Camilla continued. “Then we will assemble with layers of pastry and fresh berries.”

  “Sounds delicious,” Damian chimed in.

  “Now a little birdie told me that you like strawberries, Damian, so we will make this cake with those in addition to blueberries and raspberries.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Prego.”

  Mia nearly gagged.

  “I am showing everyone how to make the cake today, but,” Camilla added, “I’ve never had a personal opportunity. You know, I’ve never been the mother of the bride.”

  Mia wondered with chagrin what the heck she’d been thinking by agreeing to appear on her mother’s last episode...

  “Have you ever had millefoglie, Damian?” Camilla asked benignly.

  “No, I haven’t. I’ve never been married,” he joked.

  Camilla tittered and then winked. “Maybe Mia can help you at the end.”

  They both turned to look at Mia.

  The audience murmured, and Mia pasted a tight smile on her face. What had she been saying about ending with a bang? Apparently, though, her mother had the drama angle covered all by herself.

  “Sure,” she said brightly. “Why not let Damian have his cake and eat it, too?”

  The audience gasped and chuckled while Damian had the audacity to laugh at her with his eyes.

  Seriously, what was her mother thinking?

  When they were finished making the cake, Mia almost sagged with relief.

  “Mia, why don’t you offer Damian a taste?” Camilla asked, looking into the camera.

  In slow motion, Mia cut into an edge of the cake with a large spoon. Then bracing herself, she offered Damian a sample.

  Damian obligingly opened his mouth—but the look in his eyes said he’d rather eat her up. Gia had called that one.

  When Damian swallowed his bite, Camilla asked, “How do you like it?”

  “It’s delicious,” he said with a smile, his gaze on Mia. “With any luck, I’ll have one at my own wedding someday.”

  Mia kept a smile stuck on her face, but she wondered whether the cameras could pick up on the fact that she was being consumed by heat. Just a couple more minutes, and her mother would give her signature signoff...

  “And now, I have big news,” Camilla said.

  Mia’s gaze swiveled to her mother. Please, no. She didn’t think she could take any more surprises.

  Surely her mother wasn’t going to announce the cancellation of her show right now? Right next to Damian? Right when Mia was imagining herself melting under the hot lights like so much gelatinous custard sitting in the sun too long?

  “I have started my own production company,” Camilla said with a flourish. “Dolci Productions. Now Flavors of Italy will have a new look.” Her mother scanned the audience. “Thanks mille to my son, Rick Serenghetti, who helped arrange this.”

  A television camera panned to Rick in the audience. Her brother gave a slight smile and nod, while Serg, Cole and Jordan all looked over at him in acknowledgment.

  So her mother hoped to keep the show going somehow with her own company? Was that why her family was content to sit in the audience? Mia’s spirits lifted, and she stopped herself from throwing an unbeaten look in Damian’s direction.

  Her mother glanced beyond her to Damian, as if to give him his cue, but her expression was happy instead of victorious.

  “Even though this is the last episode of the current program, Camilla will be back on-air next season with a whole new look for Flavors of Italy.”

  Mia blinked at Damian. She’d heard what he’d said, but it wasn’t processing. Still, she was able to note her father looking pleased in the audience.

  “Alla prossima volta,” Camilla ended gaily. “Till next time, buon appetito.”

  Wait...what? On air...where?

  As soon as the cameras went off, Mia worked on detaching her mic.

  “Fantastic chemistry during this episode,” one of the producers announced loudly, striding toward them. “We should have these two guests on together again soon.”

  Never. She didn’t think she could survive it.

  As her mother and Damian were waylaid by the producer, Mia hurried from the stage. She had a million questions, but right now she had to get away from Damian.

  She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Sure, her mother’s show had been saved, but she and Damian were still canceled...

  * * *

  Hurrying along a backstage hallway, Mia heard footsteps behind her and then glanced over her shoulder.

  “Mia, stop,” Damian insisted.

  “Forget it.”

  “I need to talk to you,” he said, catching up with her.

  She stopped. “No.”

  He opened the nearest door as if he hadn’t heard her. “In here will do.”

  “Your new office? How does it feel to be the owner of the station?” She had to protect her vulnerable heart.

  “Fantastic. I thought I’d add a fashion show to the weekly lineup. You know, up-and-comers competing against each other.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be able to find plenty of gullible designers with a penchant for Robin Hood costumes.”

  He had the audacity to chuckle. “You think so? Maybe I’ll need some help.”

  She was done with offering him assistance...

  They were attracting looks from staffers passing them in the hallway, so Mia chose the lesser evil and marched past him into the room. “Wouldn’t a show along the lines of Shark Bait be more your speed? Every week people can tune in to see which competitor survives with their dreams intact.”

  He smiled and closed the door.

  She stabbed a finger in his direction. “Did you enjoy your star turn on my mother’s show?”

  He opened his mouth, but she wasn’t finished. “I sure hope so. Because she’s poured her heart and soul into it.”

  “The cake was delicious—”

  “I’m glad you agree.” She placed her hands on her hips and cocked her head. “I was imagining you wearing it.”

  “I’m not sure berry is my color.”

  “Oh, it is. Take it from me.” She pinned him with a look. “I’ve studied fashion, and what’s trending right now is shades of red.” She was on fire.

  Damian quirked his lips. “I thought my acting skills were fairly good, even if it was just a cooking show.”

  “Just a cooking show?” She took a deep breath to brace herself. “This may not mean much to you, but my mother spent years being the behind-the-scenes supporter of a husband and four kids. Finally, she had time to pursue her dream, her second act, and what do you do? You—”

  “Keep her on WBEN-TV as well as its sister stations, and invest in her new production company?”

  She stared at him blankly for a moment and then blinked.

  “She’s staying in her time slot with a revamped look for the show. Same name though.”

  “What?” She dropped her hands from her hips. So her mother wasn’t only staying on-air with her own production company, she was going to continue to be broadcast on her regular station—where she already had an audience.

  “I offered her a deal before today’s show.” He smiled. “Before I had my acting skills tested. Fortunately, I could mostly be myself since it was a reality-based show.”

  “You’ve been in negotiations with—” what had her mother called it? “—Dolci Productions.”

  “Not only that. I contacted Rick to talk about setting up the new company. With any luck, both of us can work out an even better syndication deal for her. She’ll reach a wider market.”

  “How did I not know this?”

  “I wanted to work behind the scenes.” His lips quirked up again. “I’ve found that’s best where the Serenghettis are concerned.”

  She waved her arms inanely. “My whole family was in the audience.”

  “I asked them not to say anything. Though your father was bursting to mention something about Wine Breaks with Serg! becoming its own spin-off show.”

  Good—her father needed his own turf, for both his and her mother’s sakes. “So you swore them to silence...for the grand gesture?”

  He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought they’d enjoy watching a Musil brought to his knees.”

  She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “Why?”

  He sauntered closer. “Don’t you know?”

  “Know what?”

  He lowered his eyes, concealing his gaze. “I did it for you.”

  Mia studied his mouth. He was so close, her world had narrowed to him and what he was saying.

  “For us.”

  She shook her head mutely—vestiges of a fight still in her. “There is no us.”

  “There could be.”

  She gave a nervous laugh. “Until the next time you cancel my mother’s show?”

  There were so many obstacles...and if she tried very hard right now, she’d remember some of them.

  “I want you.”

  “And what Damian Musil wants, Damian Musil gets, is that it?” she huffed—because she was afraid to hope.

  “No. I can’t make you want me.”

  Oh... Her gaze traveled up to lock with his. “Stop poking holes in my reasons—”

  “Love me, Mia.”

  “You—”

  He wrapped his arms around her and covered her mouth with his.

  The kiss was needy, desperate... She sighed against his lips, opening herself, and then shifted restlessly against him in order to get closer.

  When he started to get aroused, they finally and reluctantly broke apart.

  “I love you.”

  He softly brushed his lips against hers. “You’re my heart.”

  She sighed against his mouth. “When I heard that my mother’s show was being canceled, I assumed you were waging war on the Serenghettis.”