"You're kidding," Matthew said, and slammed down his bottle of ale hard enough so some of the liquid sloshed onto the glass-topped table on the patio behind his home.
Joe gave a dry laugh. "Do I look as if I'm kidding?"
Matthew looked his brother over cautiously. "No," he admitted, "I guess not." He hesitated, tried to figure out how to phrase the question, then gave up trying. "So, you asked Lucy to, uh, to be your..."
Joe nodded.
"Does Nonna know?"
Joe shook his head again. "She still thinks we're engaged. I keep meaning to tell her, but..."
"Yeah, okay." Matthew drank some ale. "What about the cooking thing? I mean, Lucy was supposed to--"
Joe looked up. "If you'd ever tasted a meal Lucy made, you wouldn't even ask the question."
"Well, who does it, then?'
"Matt, you know, you are some piece of work. I just told you that I've asked a woman to live with me, and all you can think of is your stomach."
"Actually," Matthew said in an aggrieved tone, "I'm thinking of your stomach. Eating is another appetite a man has to--"
Joe shot him a cold look.
"Sorry," Matthew said quickly. "I only meant-"
"I know what you meant. And you're right. That's what she's there for, because she's- fantastic in..."
In bed, he wanted to say. But he couldn't. What in hell was wrong with him? Matt and he had always shared stuff. They'd talked about how tough the old man could be when things hadn't gone right for him. About how they missed their mother. And yes, they'd talked about women, the kind of conversation guys had and women despised them for having...
Well, not about all women. Matt had never said anything derogatory or intimate about Susannah, but that was to be expected because she was his wife. He loved her. That was why it was crazy, that he Joe, couldn't bring himself to talk about Lucy, and what she was like in bed. She wasn't his wife. She wasn't even his mistress. And heaven knew, he didn't-he didn't...
Joe frowned, hoisted his bottle of ale and took a long, cold swallow.
"Actually," he said with what he assumed was an easy smile, "we cook together."
"You cook? Both of you?"
"Dh-huh.' ,
"But you just said-"
"Well, she's learning, the same as I am. She's pretty good at desserts. Coconut cake, chocolate mousse, stuff like that. And she has this collection of cookbooks, see, so what we do is, we pick a recipe. Then she buys the ingredients..."
"With what? You said she's broke, and she won't take any money from you."
"She finally agreed to let me give her a charge card for the supermarket."
"Ah." Matthew nodded as if he understood what his crazy kid brother was talking about. So far, all he knew was that Joe, who'd never even let a woman spend the entire night in his bed, was living with a woman he'd met fourteen days ago. "So, okay. You pick a recipe. She buys the stuff that goes into it. "
"Yeah. And then we cook it, together, for supper."
"You cook it, together."
Matt tried not to grin. Apparently, he didn't succeed because Joe shot him a belligerent look.
"What's so funny, Romano? You never heard of a guy learning to cook?"
"No, no. I mean, of course I have. I even like to putter in the kitchen with Susannah."
"So?"
"So, it just sounds so--so domestic."
Joe flushed. "It's survival, is what it is. Hell, my gut can only tolerate just so much take-out fried chicken."
"You never used to mind take-out."
"Yeah, well, a guy needs change."
"Right," Matthew said, and tried to figure out where to take the conversation next. "So, uh, so if Lucy won't accept any money from you, what's she living on?"
Joe's mouth thinned into a narrow line. "What in hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means what it sounded like, kid. How's she supporting herself? Does she have some kind of talent?"
Joe shot out of his chair, reached across the table, grabbed a handful of Matthew's shirt and dragged him to his feet.
"I don't like what you're suggesting."
"That's the second time you've put your fist in my throat because of this woman. And I don't like it." Matthew's eyes went flat and cold. "Let go, Joe."
The men glared at each other for a few seconds. Then Joe made a choked sound, let go of Matthew's shirt, and stepped away from the table.
"I think I'm losing my mind," he said softly.
Matthew nodded. "That makes it unanimous. What the hell is the matter with you?"
"I don't know."
"Look, maybe you're in over your head. Hormones can do weird things, even to adult men." Matthew walked to his brother's side and slung a comforting arm around his shoulders. "Forget what I said the last time. I've changed my mind. Lucy seems like a nice girl. I'm sure, if you explained things to her, that you made a mistake, asking her to stay-"
"She is nice. She's got a terrific sense of humor. She loves to sail. She's got a green thumb-she bought a bunch of plants for that big window in the living room. Well, she didn't actually buy 'em. She saw them, see, by the' curb outside somebody's house, waiting for garbage pickup. They were all dying, and she said she felt sorry for them, so she brought them home and now they look great. And I taught her to play pool and now she can beat me. Did I mention that?"
Only two or three dozen times, Matthew thought, and sighed.
"Okay. So she's wonderful. Still-"
"She is. Wonderful, I mean."
"Yeah, but if you feel crowded-"
"I don't. She has this thing. This, uh, this quality, you know? She can be so quiet, I have to look up to make sure she's there. At night, when we sit in the living room and read, or maybe watch TV-"
"You stay home and watch TV?"
"Or read. Or, like I said, play pool." Joe stared at Matthew. "Holy cow," he groaned, "it really does sound domestic."
"Joe," Matthew said gently, "I think you're in love with Lucy."
"Hell, no!" Joe broke away from his brother's encircling arm. "I'm never going to fall in love. What's the sense? You love a woman, you ma
rry her, and the two of you end up the way Mom and Pop did, her hoping you haven't had a bad day and cringing if you did, you sitting in the corner, wondering how you ever let yourself get into this mess and hating the world .. ."
"That was Mom and Pop," Matthew said. "It isn't everybody. Look around you, Joe. People can be happy together. Look at Susannah, and at me."
Joe tucked his hands in the back pockets of his trousers. "Maybe," he said after a pause. He looked up. "But that doesn't mean I'm in love with Lucy." He gave a wry laugh. "Believe me, you wouldn't want that."
"Why not? I just said, she seems nice. Sweet, and caring-"
"She's a stripper, for God's sake!
Matthew stared at Joe. "A what?"
"You heard me," Joe snarled. "The first time I saw her, she was wearing a handful of spangles and a smile, and she was popping out of a cake at a private party."
Matthew felt behind him for a chair and sank into it. "Oh, hell."
"Exactly." Joe paced the length of the patio, then paced back. "You want me to be in love with a woman like that?"
"No. No, of course not." Matthew stood up. "No way."
"Why not?" Joe's eyes grew dark. "You saying she's not good enough for the Romano's?"
"No," Matthew said cautiously. "But you said-"
"She says it isn't true. That she never even jumped out of a cake before, or entertained at a bachelor party."
"Well," Matthew said even more cautiously, "maybe she's telling you the-"
"She says she comes from this old-line family in Boston. That they were rich."
"Well, okay. Maybe she's-"
"She's got some story about only being at that damned bachelor party because it was catered by a cooking school, and she had to agree to do the cake thing so she could get her diploma, because she went to a boarding school where they never taught her how to make a buck and now she has to support herself." Joe's eyes shot sparks. "You tell me, Matt, would any intelligent man swallow that?"
Matthew shrugged his shoulders. It seemed the only safe thing to do.
"And she says..." Joe's voice fell to a rough whisper. "She says there's never been anybody but me." He looked up, his very posture daring Matthew to argue. "Okay. She doesn't actually say it. But she acts it." Color striped his cheekbones. "When we-when we make love. If you know what I mean."