Page 1 of Taking Care of the Target

Chapter One

Being a waitress for a place rumored to be Mafia Central wasn’t what Cassie had planned on doing with her life. No, the goal had always been to get an education and become something. What exactly, she wasn’t sure yet, and considering she’d started college four years behind everyone else, she really should’ve figured it out by now.

Once Dad’s medical bills and the cost of his funeral are paid off, my main focus can be school and deciding what career field I’m going into.That was the thing about pesky bills—they turned up every month, regardless if you were ready for them or not.

Only two months into the new semester and she was already behind. Picking up extra shifts at Rossi’s Ristorante wasn’t going to help, but it made her breathe easier when it came to the bills.I probably shouldn’t be moving right now, either. But what am Isupposedto do? Stay in a neighborhood I’m terrified to go home to every night?

In an attempt to keep busy, Cassie straightened the giant stack of menus at the hostess stand, flipping the upside down ones so they all faced the same way. Rossi’s had an old, classic feel to it. The brick exterior displayed the same sign that’d been there for generations, now faded from years of sun, rain, and snow, and the interior was spacious, with plenty of space between the dark wood tables. The last place she’d worked had so many tables and chairs there hadn’t been room to walk, much less deliver food.

Cassie’s favorite part about Rossi’s, though, was the huge mural painted on the far wall. It gave the illusion of looking out arched windows at a lush Italian countryside. No doubt it was as close to seeing Italy as she’d ever get.

The front door opened, and Vince DaMarco, also known as the other reason Cassie never said no to extra shifts, walked in. The strong jaw, dark eyes, and ever-present five o’clock shadow would’ve been hard enough to resist, but he was also smart and hard-working. Buff and brains was a hard combination to come by.

He flashed her a smile, and her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. “Cassie. Hey.”

“Hey.” She pushed her glasses up her nose, then inwardly smacked her hand away—it was a nervous tick she couldn’t rid herself of, and she readjusted them three times as often whenever Vince was around.

He folded his arms across the top of the hostess stand, bringing him close enough to make out all three shades of brown in his irises—not that she’d spent hours analyzing them or anything. “Thanks again for filling in last minute,” he said.

When he’d called earlier today, he sounded almost hesitant, which she’d read as possibly nervous. For one delicious moment, she thought he might actually ask her out. Images of what that would be like had flashed through her mind in rapid succession—talking somewhere besides Rossi’s, gradually leaning closer and closer as attraction snapped in the air between them, a kiss at the end of the night…

Even now, the residual images remained, making her heart skip a couple of beats.

Instead, he’d asked her to fill in for Mia, which brought reality screeching back. Of course Cassie agreed, even though she had too much to do and not enough time to do it. She’d do anything if she thought it might put her on Vince’s radar.

If she were bolder, she’d attempt to flirt—just reach out right now, put her hand on his muscled forearm, and say something witty. Plenty of women ogled and flirted with him when they came in, like it was as easy as breathing. Teenage girls giggled when he walked by, ladies his age practically threw themselves at him, and older women—often seated with their husbands—would smile and steal glances.

But Cassie had always been shy, especially when it came to guys, andespeciallywhen it came to exquisite male specimens she didn’t have a chance with.I may as well just face my fate. I’ll work here forever, never get a degree, and watch as some other woman scoops up Vince.

“…the special again.”

She jerked herself out of her thoughts, staring at him as if that’d make the beginning of his sentence appear.Between his nearness, his deep voice, and her unattainable daydreams, she hadn’t been paying attention to his words. She pushed her glasses up on her nose—damn it, stop doing that—and then asked, “What about the special?”

Vince’s eyes locked onto hers, and her throat went dry. “Where did you just go? One minute you were smiling, and then you were frowning. I was starting to think you had a personal vendetta against lasagna.”

Heat bloomed in her cheeks. “Sorry, I’m just tired from staying up late to do my homework and then this morning’s classes.”

He tilted his head, studying her as if he didn’t quite buy it.

“So,” she quickly said, putting his statement together with the end of the sentence she’d heard. “Lasagna’s the special again?”

“Yeah. Angelo forgot to place the food order. It was the only thing I asked him to do, but even that was too much for him.” Vince sighed and glanced toward the back where he spent most of his time in a small office, paying bills, ordering food, scheduling, and all the other management duties. Then his gaze flicked to the bulging backpack at her feet. “Feel free to break out the books when it’s slow. I know you’ve got a ton of studying to do, which was why I put you as hostess. And I’ll get you a day off this week, I swear. Even if I have to wait tables myself.”

Cassie laughed. “Oh, right. You waiting tables. Uh-huh.”

Vince’s mouth dropped open. “What? You don’t think I can do it?”

She almost readjusted her glasses but stopped her hand a few inches short and wrapped a strand of hair around her finger instead. “I just can’t picture it… Although I bet you’d get huge tips. Especially from all the female customers.”

One of his dark eyebrows quirked up and amusement sparked in his eyes. Crap. Did she just practically confess to being obsessed with his hotness? Or was this flirting? Maybe shecouldpull it off. If she had a follow-up move, it’d feel more like a win.

“We should, uh, have a competition,” she said, her pulse racing at her sudden boldness. “See who gets more tips by the end of the night.”

A slow smile spread across his face, bringing out the slight indention in his chin, and light-headedness set in. “You’re on. I’ll have Linda fill in at the hostess station during the evening rush so you can wait tables. Loser buys dinner… somewhere besides Rossi’s.”

“It’s a bet.” Using the stand to block her movements, she pinched her thigh to make sure this was truly happening. It hurt, so she was going with yes.

“Later, then.” He started past, then abruptly turned around and leaned in, the hostess stand no longer serving as a barrier between them. “Fair warning,” he said in a dangerously low voice that sent a shiver down her spine, “I don’t know how to lose.”

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