The Italian's Chosen Wife
'Meghan, there's someone here to see you.'
Meghan Selby struggled against the knot in her apron strings and sighed tiredly.
'Please tell me it's not Paulo,' she said, as the other waitress, Carla, placed a stack of dirty plates on the counter.
'Who?'
'My landlord.'
Carla wrinkled her nose. 'What does he look like?'
'Short, fat, greasy-haired.' She suppressed a shudder.
'Why would he come here?' Carla asked, curiosity evident in her eyes, and Meghan shrugged evasively.
'Who knows? But I don't know many other people in this town.'
'Well, it's certainly not him.' Carla's efficient fingers went to work on the knot. 'This man is tall, built, wavy-haired and asking to see you.'She released the untangled strings and grinned. 'He's gorgeous, actually. Is there something—or someone—you're not telling me about?'
'I wish.' Meghan slipped off her apron with a quick, grateful smile. 'It's probably just someone who's lost his wallet.'
Carla raised her eyebrows. 'Why wouldn't he askAngelo, then?'
She shrugged. The truth was, she'd no idea why a strange man would ask for her, and she didn't really want to know. She didn't want to attract attention f ... read full excerpt from: The Italian's Chosen Wife ebook
