Page 14 of One Naughty Night (Single in South Beach)

Renzo turned in time to catch sight of his brother in a corner near the doors to the stairwell. Nico, a former pro hockey player who’d recently traded his NHL spot to be a goalie coach for the Miami team, made a hell of an incongruous picture as he gently pried his six-foot-three frame out of a determined redhead’s fierce grasp.

When he finally freed himself, Nico fell into step beside Renzo, their feet headed toward the kitchen in silent, mutual agreement. Their sister Giselle ruled the Club Paradise kitchens as the property’s executive chef and she could always be persuaded to provide a little late night sustenance before she closed up shop.

“Nice example you’re setting for our sister.” Renzo elbowed his brother in the gut. “Every time I turn around you’re making time with strangers in shadowed corners.”

Nico smiled at a group of women engaged in lipstick application and hair primping in the hallway near the club doors. It never failed to amaze Renzo that even with a nose broken three times over, his brother could attract hordes of women without really trying. What the hell was there about a zigzag nose that turned women on?

“Oh please. I saw the direction you were walking just now.” Nico gave his brother an assessing look. “Don’t even pretend like you weren’t returning from some hotel room or another.”

Busted.

“I just needed to walk a friend to her room. No big deal.” Since he’d never been able to lie to his brother without Nico seeing right through him, Renzo tried to stick as close to the truth as possible.

They wound their way through the decadent hotel past a series of framed prints depicting advertisements for old-time peep shows.

“Since when are the hallways of a five-star property unsafe for women to navigate alone? Please, Ren. You’re talking to your brother here.”

“God forbid I act like a gentleman. Did it ever occur to you that walking someone to her room can be a common courtesy without having carnal implications? No, that’s right. Hockey players are too busy body checking anything in their way to concern themselves with something as mundane as courtesy.”

They reached the entrance to the main kitchen then or Nico would have surely continued to harass him. And Renzo didn’t want to think about how badly he’d screwed things up with Esmerelda.

He didn’t want to think about her now, but her guileless blue eyes and seriously hot kisses wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Enough said, brother. From all the snarling you’re doing, it’s painfully apparent you didn’t get laid. No need to try and convince me.” Nico ducked out of the way of a waiter balancing a tray on each shoulder and sidled up to a pretty blond waitress filling saltshakers to prep for the next day.

Renzo stormed over to the mammoth-size industrial refrigerator in the kitchen outfitted in top to bottom stainless steel.

“Welcome back,” his sister called, doling out a few plates of seafood nachos to a server sporting a neck full of tattoos. Giselle sent the waiter on his way and sauntered closer to the fridge. “Dare I hope you met someone tonight since you’ve been gone for the last four hours?”

“He won’t admit anything,” Nico supplied. “But judging by his mood, I’d say he didn’t get lucky.”

Renzo cursed as he snagged a pink pastry box that was bound to be full of something great. Couldn’t his family have any shred of discretion? No wonder he’d been attracted to Esme. He couldn’t picture her ever blurting out someone else’s business the way every member of his family did.

Armed with the pastry box, he shut the fridge and glared at Nico before answering Giselle. “I saw a woman floundering with one of the lounge losers who was coming on a little too strong.”

“You’re a very effective chaperone, I’ll grant you that.” Giselle started to smile until her gaze fell on the pastry box. “Wait, Renzo. You can’t have those. I baked them for—”

He really didn’t want to aggravate his sister, but after missing out on his chance with Esme, he felt utterly deserving of whatever confection rested in the pastry box.

“I only want one.” He turned, protecting the box with his body as she reached to wrest it away from him. “Just one, I swear.”

He opened the lid as she slugged him on the shoulder.

“You can’t they’re--” Her voice died as he got a look at the treats inside.

“Seriously? Pornographic pastries?” Renzo gazed down at the two delicious rows of cream puffs frosted in such a way that the delicacies looked exactly like naked breasts— complete with bright red cherry nipples. “Where did these come from?”

Nico scrambled his way across the kitchen with a speed surprising even for a professional athlete. He reached for one of the treats but Giselle slapped his hand away. She yanked the box from Renzo, cheeks pink with anger or embarrassment, he couldn’t be sure which.

“They came from hours of my hard work and they are selling like hotcakes as specialty items so you can just feed your endless appetite with something less time-intensive, okay?”“You’re trafficking in porno baked goods now?” Nico demanded as Giselle tucked the container back into the refrigerator. He shoved Renzo just enough to get his attention. “You shouldn’t have left her for the last four hours, Ren. Bad enough she’s working in the most sexually explicit club on the strip, but now she’s selling bare breasts on the open market? Pop would have our asses if he knew.”

Sensing a familiar Cesare family explosion on the horizon, Renzo nudged his brother toward the door. “It’s not like they’re real, bro.” He tried to cast a reassuring smile at his sister as he urged Nico out of the kitchen but Giselle presented him with a view of her back.

Definitely pissed.

Maybe his ex-fiancé had a point when she’d told him his he-man tactics weren’t going to go far with women.

Nah. She’d just been mad at the time. He could make it up to Giselle and he’d figure out a way to make it up to Esme tomorrow. He hoped.

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