Turning the Tables Read online

  She’ll bare everything…except the truth.

  Tina Borlenghi is a billionaire businesswoman, heiress to the Borlenghi fortune, and living la dolce vita. She’s also a magnet for men who crave fame and celebrity. So while in New York City launching a new fashion boutique, Tina is more than intrigued when sports bar owner Luke Pederson mistakes her for a sales assistant. He’s sexier than sin and only interested in her. What’s the harm in a little steamy role-playing?

  Luke can’t get enough of Tina. And yet, something feels…off. Why is she so secretive? As their role-playing encounters become more erotic, Luke’s suspicions grow. The woman rocking his world is hiding something. Something big. He’s ready to play for keeps, but finding out who Tina really is may just turn the tables on everything he thought he knew about love.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Discover The Italian Connection series… Making Over the Billionaire

  Mad About You

  If you love sexy romance, one-click these steamy Brazen releases… Wrong Bed, Right Guy

  Under the Covers

  Taking What’s His

  Shatter Me

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 by Joan Kilby All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 109

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

  Brazen is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC. For more information on our titles, visit www.brazenbooks.com.

  Edited by Vanessa Mitchell

  Cover design by Heather Howland

  Cover art by iStock

  ISBN 978-1-63375-292-4

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition June 2015

  Chapter One

  Tina Borlenghi, cushioned in the limo’s luxurious interior, rested a hand on the box of pastries by her side and peered out the tinted window for a first glimpse of her flagship American store, a Madison Avenue fashion boutique.

  All the bad stuff with Fabio and the court case was behind her. Through her dark days of heartbreak and humiliation, she’d focused on her work as a way of coping. Now it was paying off. New York. New start. Life was becoming good again.

  And why shouldn’t it? She was launching her atelier, the House of Borlenghi, personally overseeing the opening of the new boutique and showing her new collection during fashion week.

  The limo negotiated the morning rush hour traffic and glided to a halt at the curb. Marble columns flanked double glass doors on a store occupying a highly desirable corner location. The name, Borlenghi Boutique, was hand-painted in flowing ivory script. Her smile spread. “Bella.”

  The uniformed driver got out and opened her door, offering her a gloved hand to help her onto the sidewalk of the busy street. “Ma’am.”

  “Grazie….” She glanced at his kindly, avuncular face. “What is your name?”

  “Frank, ma’am.” He handed her the card bearing his phone number. “Contact me when you’re ready to move on.”

  “Okay, and please, call me Tina.” She gave him a smile and turned to the boutique.

  The doors were locked and the Closed sign turned out. Tina knocked on the glass, then smoothed down her taupe linen sheath with russet accents that picked up the highlights in her brown hair. This dress, one she’d designed herself, was a flattering cut. Ever since all the drama with Fabio she couldn’t stop eating pastries and had put on a few pounds.

  The sudden piercing whine of a power saw drew her attention to the sports bar next door on the side street. Hat Trick, the sign read. The rustic wooden door was propped open and a well-tracked canvas cloth was laid down at the entrance.

  The boutique door opened, reclaiming her attention. A blond woman with perfectly styled hair ushered her inside. “Bettina Borlenghi?” She pressed a splayed hand to her chest where a string of freshwater pearls gleamed against a chic black dress. “I’m Charmaine Denton. Welcome to Manhattan. It’s such a delight to meet you! A great, great honor and a thrill.”

  “Call me Tina.” Tina embraced her New York agent, kissing her on both cheeks. She almost felt she knew Charmaine because they’d emailed back and forth for months, but this was their first face-to-face meeting. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

  She glanced around the elegantly outfitted boutique, a plush realm of cream carpets, silk wallpaper and soft music. A water feature tinkled quietly, surrounded by live ferns and marble statuary. “Oh, my, it’s beautiful.”

  Tina presented Charmaine with the white box from one of the best bakeries in New York. “Pastries for you and the staff. It’s a custom in Italy.”

  “Thank you so much. I’m sure they’re delicious.” Charmaine passed a slender hand over her tiny waist and then placed the box on the glass display counter. She glanced wistfully at it. “I’ll have one later.”

  “Where is everyone—the manager, the sales assistants?” Tina asked.

  “The sales girls won’t be in until tomorrow when we have the grand opening,” Charmaine said. “They’ve completed all the requisite training, and I put them through their paces earlier today. Janelle, your manager, would have been here today, but her elderly mother had a fall. Janelle had to take her for X-rays.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Can you arrange flowers? I’ll call her later.” Tina strolled through the store. Clothing racks and display cases were stocked with her latest designs, the autumn collection she’d had sent over from Rome. Now and then she paused to position the hanging garments more evenly. “The showroom looks wonderful. Janelle and her assistants have done a fine job.”

  “Did you have a chance to go over the itinerary I sent you?” Charmaine got out her phone and started scrolling. “Tomorrow you have a radio interview at seven am, followed by a press conference at nine. Lunch with the editor of Vogue and then we’ll sit down with the event manager and go over last minute details of the fashion show. The casting agent has the models lined up as well as our official photographer. The press will be there, of course.”

  “Who is…the photographer?” Please don’t let it be Fabio. Tina’s hand tightened around the cold stainless steel tube of a display rack. This being fashion week in New York, it was quite likely he was in town. He’d escaped a jail sentence in Italy, but surely he wouldn’t seek a job with her company again. She should have told Charmaine under no circumstances to hire him, but that would have meant humiliating explanations.

  “Jason Whitely,” Charmaine said. “He’s excellent.”

  “Va bene.” Fine. Tina released her held breath and resumed her tour. The three fitting rooms were as spacious and luxurious as the rest of the store. Ridiculous that even the thought of Fabio could still upset her so. The past was the past. She would never be so stupid as to fall for a fortune-hunter again.

  She paused in front of the three big display windows fronting onto Madison Avenue. As per her instructions, they were empty, awaiting her personal a
ttention. Diaphanous fabric in autumn hues covered the tiered platforms that would hold three mannequins in each window. Nine in all. Daywear, cocktail/evening wear, maybe a weekend in the country….

  “I called a handyman to move the mannequins into the windows,” Charmaine said. “Or rather, I left a message with the temp agency. He should be here soon.” She paused. “Dressing all these mannequins will be a lot of work. I know you said you wanted to do it yourself but are you sure you don’t want me to call in a couple of the girls to help?”

  “No, thank you. I’ve been looking forward to this. One of my first jobs in the industry was as a window dresser.” She missed the creativity of putting together a beautiful tableau. It was almost like therapy after the business side of her life. And this store symbolized her personal rise from the ashes, a new beginning. It felt important that she have a hand in contributing to the opening.

  “Well, okay.” Charmaine fingered her pearls, adjusting the diamanté clasp. “But keep the closed sign on the door. With no salesgirls on duty you don’t want to be bothered with customers.”

  Tina adjusted the drape of the cloth on one of the platforms. “Oh, but it would be fun to make the very first sale of my new boutique myself.”

  “Can you work a cash register?” Charmaine asked doubtfully.

  “Poof!” Tina flapped a hand. “I helped in my father’s furniture store from the age of twelve.” Her dad had been a self-made man, and although he’d skyrocketed to success building a business empire, he’d always made sure his children were grounded growing up. Pocket money had to be earned. Tina and her brother and two sisters had all worked from an early age. “Where are the rest of the clothes, the ones I earmarked for the windows?”

  “The store room is this way.” Charmaine wove through the display racks to the rear of the boutique and opened a door in the trompe l’oeil mural of the Uffizi Gardens. More racks of clothes waited along with a collection of mannequins. “Janelle had the girls touch the garments up with a steamer. Accessories are in those boxes.”

  “Excellent.” Tina eyed the tall, heavy mannequins. “When did you say the handyman was coming?”

  “He should be here any minute.” Charmaine checked her watch. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay to deal with him for you. I have to go. I’m already late for a meeting with the event manager at Lincoln Center to discuss the fashion show.”

  “No problem. I can let him know what I’d like him to do.” She led the way back through the store, already feeling a proprietary pride, and out the wide glass doors to the sidewalk. Now the sound of hammering came from next door. “What’s going on there?”

  “Must be some renovations. I hope they’re done by tomorrow for your opening.” Charmaine stepped to the curb and hailed a passing yellow taxi. “Let me quickly finish telling you about the rest of the marketing campaign. Flyers will be delivered in all five boroughs tomorrow. The day after, half the buses in New York will be driving around with an ad for the House of Borlenghi on their sides. You know, the one you posed for.”

  “I remember.” She’d felt extremely silly at the time—she was no model—but she supposed Charmaine knew what she was doing.

  “I, or Janelle, will be around later to lock up.” A taxi pulled up and stopped. Charmaine opened the door. “If you need anything just call me.”

  “I will be fine.” Tina sent her off with another set of kisses. “Mille grazie. Ciao ciao.”

  She glanced up and down Madison, hoping to see the handyman arriving. Aside from an electrician’s van parked around the corner next to the sports bar, there was no tradesman’s vehicle anywhere on the horizon. Very well, she would try to move the mannequins herself.

  Back inside she exchanged her high heels for a pair of ballet flats from the shoe display and her good dress for the plainest skirt and top she could find. Then she wound her long, waving dark hair into a messy knot and pinned it to the top of her head. Wrapping both her arms around a mannequin she tried to lift it. The six-foot plastic statue wouldn’t budge. Allora, she would drag it. Rising onto her tiptoes she hooked her arms through the elbows set akimbo and tried to back up, hauling backward with all her might.

  The mannequin started to topple, and she staggered under the weight. Madre mia, but it was heavy. The bell over the door chimed. She glanced over her shoulder to see a workman in dusty jeans and scuffed boots enter the store. Tall with broad shoulders, he looked strong.

  “Thank God.” She shifted the weight on her aching shoulders. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  He lifted the mannequin off her and casually stood it upright. Tina cast him a sidelong glance. Not just any workman, this guy was handsome. Dark blond messy hair, rugged good looks, his white T-shirt stretched tight across a well-developed chest and sculpted biceps. A tool belt was slung from narrow hips, dragging faded snug jeans just low enough to reveal a narrow band of black underwear.

  Puzzled blue eyes studied her. “You were expecting me?”

  “Charmaine called you.” Tina dusted off her hands and her skirt. “She left a message.”

  “I didn’t get it.” He shrugged. “Is Charmaine your boss? I’d like to talk to her, or whoever’s in charge.”

  “I’m in charge,” Tina said. “I need you to move these mannequins into the display windows.”

  He scratched his head. “Well, now, I don’t know…”

  “You don’t know?” She wasn’t used to anyone questioning her orders. A long trailing curl escaped from her topknot and tickled her jaw. She brushed it back impatiently. “Aren’t you the handyman?”

  An “aha” expression dawned. His eyes twinkled as he slowly and blatantly checked her out. Then his deep drawl, laden with humor, poured over her like warm molasses. “Honey, I’ll be anyone you want me to be.”

  Whoa. What was going on here?

  Tina bit her lip, noting his small smile with a hint of dimple in his right cheek. Was he flirting with her? The thought gave her an unexpected thrill. She pushed that aside. She was busy and had no time for such nonsense. Anyway, probably she was mistaken. Her English was fluent, but she didn’t always understand nuances. If he was flirting, though, his openness was refreshing. Most men waited for her to make the first move.

  Anyone you want me to be… Without even knowing her, he’d somehow tapped into her secret desire to role play even though she’d never met anyone she trusted enough to do it with. But no, he couldn’t mean it, not that way. He seemed harmless—except for that lethal twinkle in his eyes. Why not play along? Tapping a finger against her chin, she said thoughtfully, “I would like you to be…a Highland warrior.”

  “Oh, darn.” He clicked his fingers. “I left my broadsword at home. And my kilts are at the cleaners.”

  Tina gave a sigh of mock exasperation. “Then you’ll have to be a handyman.”

  “Then that’s who I am.” With a shrug and a smile, he held out his hand. “Luke.”

  “Tina B—” She caught herself. Her last name was a household word in Italy, and she hated the fuss it caused. In America, outside an elite fashion circle, very few had heard of her. She liked that but knew it wouldn’t last. Her name was on the storefront and soon the marketing program would be in full swing. For now, though, she enjoyed being anonymous. “Just Tina.”

  His hand engulfed hers, callused, warm and strong. Her gaze drifted down his strong body to his scuffed steel-toe work boots. So different from Fabio. Here was a man who earned his keep from the labor of his own hands instead of sponging off wealthy women. She glanced up again, and his gaze caught hers, lingering too long.

  “So,” Luke said finally, clearing his throat. “The mannequins.”

  “Sì, sì.” She tugged her hand away and briskly stepped aside.

  Luke picked up the mannequin and tucked it under his arm. A ghost of a suggestive smile lifted his lips. “Where do you want it?”

  Anywhere you want to give it to me. Goodness, where had that come from? She didn’t even know the man! Although she wo
uldn’t mind getting to know him better…

  The absurdity of her thoughts washed over her. But after wasting so much time and emotional energy on Fabio, she welcomed finally feeling a spark with someone new. Was that so wrong? Whether she started something or not, this delicious little sizzle of attraction proved that she was alive. That she’d survived.

  He raised a brow in her direction. Sì. Right. The mannequin. “Over there, in the first window,” she directed. He carried it out there. “On top of the platform. Yes, like so. Perfetto!”

  Luke went back for another, hoisting it as easily as if it was a log for the fire. “You shouldn’t have tried to carry these yourself. There are safety laws against shop assistants doing heavy lifting.” He winked over his shoulder at her. “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  “I’m not—” She started to correct him and then stopped. He thought she was a shop assistant. Not surprising, really, considering she’d changed her clothes and her hair. Of course she was doing what an employee would normally do. She should correct Luke’s misconception…but telling him she was the boss would no doubt wipe that cheeky smile off his handsome face. She really liked that cheeky smile and what it meant. Open, friendly, and frankly admiring, his smile said he liked her even though he didn’t know who she was. Until Fabio she’d never questioned whether she was attractive in her own right and not just because of her money or heritage. Finding out that her ex hadn’t loved her but had only been using her had unearthed an insecurity she hadn’t even known she possessed. It had gotten so she didn’t trust anyone except her family and old friends. Now she questioned every relationship, every new friendship. The fears ran so deep, they opened a terrifying chasm of self-doubt whenever she met someone new.

  Where was the harm in letting Luke think she was a sales girl? Once he finished this task she would likely never see him again. If she kept quiet, for the next half hour or so she could enjoy a harmless flirtation with a hot guy. A guy who didn’t bow and scrape and make her wonder if he really liked her or if he was only pretending because of who she was. Or how much she was paying him. Dio, she sounded so pathetic when she thought like that.