Hollywood Baby Affair Read online

  Chiara smiled. “It’s good to meet you. So you like romantic comedies?”

  “I adore them.” Marisa threw a teasing look at her husband. “Though it’s hard to get Cole here to watch them with me.”

  “Ouch.” Cole adopted a mock-wounded expression. “Hey, I’m just showing family loyalty to Rick for his adventure flicks.”

  “A great excuse,” Marisa parried before turning back to Chiara. “You aren’t filming a romantic comedy now, are you?”

  Chiara sighed. “Unfortunately no.” Unless she counted the banter that she had going on with Rick offscreen. “Blame Hollywood. Action movies bring in the big bucks at the box office.”

  Marisa made a sympathetic sound.

  “You’re a woman after my own heart,” Chiara said.

  “I’ve had my tenth grade students watch you in the film adaptation of Another Song at Dawn,” Marisa added enthusiastically. “I’ve taught here in Welsdale.”

  Chiara warmed to the other woman. “I’m so glad. That’s the nicest compliment—”

  “Anyone’s ever paid you?” Rick finished for her.

  Cole cast Rick a droll look. “Quite the romantic boyfriend, aren’t you?”

  Chiara flushed. “I meant the best professional praise.”

  Cole and his wife just laughed.

  “Cole’s gotten better with sharing warm thoughts since we’ve gotten married,” Marisa added, throwing a playful look at her husband, “but I’m still not finding little heart drawings in my lunchbox.”

  Chiara envied Cole and Marisa’s obvious connection. In contrast, she and Rick pushed each other’s buttons. Then she reminded herself there was no her and Rick. They had a fake relationship for the benefit of the press.

  When Cole and Marisa excused themselves, another woman approached, and Chiara again saw a resemblance to Rick.

  “Chiara, this is my younger sister, Mia,” Rick said.

  Mia was slender and lovely, with arresting almond-shaped green eyes. She could have qualified as a model or actress herself.

  “I wish I could say Rick has told me a lot about you,” Mia quipped, “but I’d be lying.”

  “Family,” Rick muttered. “Who needs enemies?”

  Mia tossed her brother a droll look that made Chiara smile.

  “Rick mentioned you’re a designer,” Chiara said.

  “He did?”

  “I’d love to see some of your creations.”

  “I’m based in New York.”

  “Do you have something that Chiara could toss on for an appearance on Mom’s cooking show?” Rick prompted.

  When Mia rolled her eyes, Chiara held back a grin.

  “Leave it to my brother to give me the professional opportunity of a lifetime, and no fair warning.”

  “Hey,” Rick said, holding up his hands, “I did tell you to bring a trunk of stuff to show a friend of mine.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t say who!”

  “Don’t you read any of the celebrity glossies or supermarket tabloids?” Rick countered. “I’m dating one of the hottest actresses around.”

  Chiara felt a wave of heat at the word hottest.

  “How am I supposed to know what’s true and what isn’t?” Mia responded. “It’s a good thing I know my way around a needle and thread for a little nip and tuck if necessary.”

  “I’m not that thin,” Chiara chimed in.

  “Yeah, she has the appetite of a lumberjack,” Rick agreed jokingly. “I should know. I’ve carried her out of exploding buildings and onto a helicopter with one hand.”

  “Hilarious, Rick,” Mia said. “Next you’ll be telling us that you have real superpowers.”

  Rick arched an eyebrow. “Ask Chiara.”

  Chiara flushed again. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss Rick’s prowess—sexual or otherwise—with his siblings.

  When Chiara didn’t immediately reply, Mia laughed. “I guess you got your answer, Rick.”

  An older woman came bustling over, clapping her hands. “Cari, scusatemi. I’m sorry, I was speaking on the phone with my producers.”

  Rick’s face lightened. “Don’t worry, Mom. We’re all good here. Just introducing Chiara to everybody.”

  Rick’s mother clasped her hands together. “I’m Camilla. Benvenuti.”

  “Thank you for the welcome, Mrs. Serenghetti,” Chiara said.

  “Camilla, please. You are doing me a huge favore.”

  “She mixes Italian and English like they’re flour and water,” Rick said in a low voice. “Interrupt at your own risk.”

  “Now, Chiara—what a lovely name! You are Italian and Brazilian, no?”

  She nodded her head.

  “You are a celebrity, yes? And beautiful, too, no?”

  “Um...”

  “Basta, così.” Camilla nodded her head approvingly. “It is enough. You are doing me a huge favore. Anything else will be extra filling in the cannoli, no?”

  “Mrs. Serenghetti—”

  “Camilla, please. Do you want me to demonstrate a recipe to you on the show, or—” Camilla brightened hopefully “—you have one to share?”

  “Actually I do.” Chiara had been thinking about the show on the plane ride. She didn’t want to disappoint. It had nothing to do with Rick, but rather her own high standards and integrity, she told herself. “I used to visit relatives in Brazil when I was growing up. Italian food is very popular there.”

  Camilla beamed.

  “Brazilian barbecue—” Chiara began.

  “Churrascaria, sì.”

  “—is well-known, but we also have galeteria. It’s chicken and usually an all-you-can-eat pasta and salad. So I would like to make a pasta dish that sounds Italian, but was really popularized by the Italian immigrant community in Brazil. Cappelletti alla romanesca.”

  “Perfetto.” Camilla nodded approvingly.

  Mia linked arms with her mother. “Excuse us while I get Mom’s opinion on how to finish the tagliatelle salad.”

  When his female relatives had departed, Rick turned to Chiara with a bemused expression. “I’m impressed. Have you actually made this dish before?”

  “Please.” Chiara gave him a long-suffering look. “Do I look Brazilian and Italian to you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Trust me.” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

  “Isn’t that my line?” he mocked.

  She felt the heat rise in her cheeks and turned away.

  “Rick!”

  Chiara spotted an older version of Rick coming toward them.

  “Brace yourself,” Rick murmured. “You have yet to meet the most colorful member of the family. Serg Serenghetti.”

  Oh, dear.

  “So the prodigal son has returned.”

  “Wrong script, Dad,” Rick quipped. “This is The Son Also Rises.”

  Serg Serenghetti fastened his eyes on Chiara. “What do you see in this guy?”

  Chiara gave a weak smile.

  “How do you know about us?” Rick retorted, addressing his father.

  “I read WE Magazine,” Serg grumbled. “Same as everyone else. Your mother leaves copies lying around.” Serg lowered his brows. “And with my recovery, I have plenty of time to surf the internet for news about my wayward children.”

  Rick looked at Chiara and jerked a finger in his father’s direction. “Do you believe he knows about surfing? He’s keeping up with those teenagers that make action flicks such blockbusters at the box office.”

  As Rick poked fun at his father, his tone was laced with affection.

  Serg grumbled again. “I’ve known a lot about a lot for a lot longer than you’ve been around, but all I get is guff from the young
pups.”

  Rick pulled out a chair, and Serg sank into it.

  “He’s still recovering from a stroke,” Rick murmured for her benefit.

  Oh. Chiara felt a tug at her heartstrings. Beneath the bluster, the affection between father and son sounded loud and clear. In contrast, her relationship with her father was a distant echo.

  Chiara realized that with the Serenghettis, she was in for something new and different from her own experience. And as she settled into a conversation with Serg, she realized that might not be such a bad thing—except for the fact that meeting his family made Rick even more likable and attractive, and she was already in danger of succumbing to him...

  * * *

  Rick couldn’t believe his eyes, but then he should have known Chiara would be a natural in front of the cameras—even on Camilla Serenghetti’s cooking show.

  He was also tense. He wanted this episode to boost ratings for his mother, but he had little idea about Chiara’s cooking skills, let alone how they’d play out on television. And he also wanted Chiara and his mother to get along.

  So far so good.

  “The reason I’m not wearing an apron,” Chiara said brightly into the camera, “is because this outfit is too scrumptious to cover up.” She gestured at her V-neck berry-colored top with clever draping, the cream trousers underneath barely visible above the kitchen counter. “It’s courtesy of Camilla’s daughter, Mia Serenghetti, whose clothes are mouth-watering.”

  Camilla laughed, and because she sat next to him in the audience, Rick could tell his sister looked amused.

  “I guess Camilla is not the only talented one in the family.”

  “Grazie tanto, Chiara bellissima,” his mother said.

  “Prego.” Chiara acknowledged the thanks and then dumped prosciutto in a blender before smiling at the studio audience. “I sometimes prefer an electronic device to hand-chopping. Goes faster, too.”

  As she scanned the buttons on the blender, Rick realized something was wrong and started to rise from his front-row seat.

  Chiara pressed a button, and prosciutto pieces started flying everywhere.

  Chiara yelped, and Camilla covered her mouth with her hands. The audience exploded in shocked laughter.

  Rick stared, and then sank back into his seat.

  Chiara quickly pressed another button to turn off the blender, and then she and Camilla stared at each other...before dissolving into peals of laughter.

  “Oops.” Chiara looked into the camera and shrugged, a teasing smile on her face. “Next time I’ll remember to put the top on the blender first. But first let’s get this cleaned up.”

  Moments later, after help from behind-the-scenes staff, Chiara raised a wineglass, and she and Camilla toasted each other.

  Rick watched, fascinated by the interplay between the two women. Looking around him, he realized everyone else was entertained, as well.

  After that, Chiara proceeded to prepare the cappelletti recipe without another hitch. She chopped more prosciutto, by hand this time, and added it to a shallow pan containing peas, mushrooms and a light cream sauce. With a saucy look, she added a touch of vino from the open wine bottle, and said with a wink, “Do try this at home, but not too much.”

  His mother laughed, and then both she and Chiara took more sips from their wineglasses.

  Rick couldn’t imagine what they were both thinking, but when Chiara motioned for his father, Serg, to join them from the audience, Rick knew things were only going to get more interesting. His father was a character, but this was the first time Serg had been so public since his stroke.

  Rick made to help his father out of his seat, but Serg just batted his hand away.

  “Bah!” Serg said, doing a comical rendition of a grumpy old man even though he had the grin of an eager fan.

  “I hear Camilla’s husband, Serg, knows his way around wine,” Chiara announced. “Perhaps he can suggest a vintage to pair with my dish.”

  “I’d be happy to,” Serg replied as he climbed the two steps to the stage. “It’s not every day that my son brings home a beautiful actress.”

  Rick suppressed an embarrassed groan. His and Chiara’s pretend relationship had just gotten a major advertising boost from his father. Odele would be overjoyed.

  When Serg reached the stage, he sampled the cappelletti dish from a plate Camilla handed to him. After taking a moment to savor, he declared, “Bianco di Custoza, Verdicchio or Pinot Bianco.”

  Chiara beamed. “Thank you so much for the wine suggestions, Serg.”

  Serg winked at the audience. “You know I’m Italian, so I suggest Italian wines. I like them on the dry side, but you can pair this dish with a lighter Chardonnay if you like.”

  Getting the signal from a producer offscreen, Camilla addressed the camera in order to wrap up the show. “All prossima volta. Till next time, buon appetito.”

  As the show’s support staff approached to remove Camilla’s and Chiara’s mics, Serg returned to his seat.

  “Good job, Dad,” Rick remarked with a smile. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

  He was still trying to process Chiara’s interaction with his parents on camera. It was like she’d known them forever, it had been so natural.

  “Bah!” Serg said, though his expression again belied his grumpiness. “Don’t be jealous I was the one called on stage by a beautiful woman. You’ve got to work it, Rick.”

  “And a star is born,” Rick replied with dry humor to his sister, who gave a knowing smile.

  “Do you want my autograph?” Serg chortled, picking up his sweater from his seat as Mia moved to help him.

  Rick stepped off to the side, and when Chiara approached, minutes later, he remarked, “That was quite a scene-stealing performance.”

  “It’s why I’m an in-demand actress.”

  She looked sexy in Mia’s designs, and he liked her even more for lending her celebrity to help his family.

  “So it was all planned?”

  “Planned? Like reading lines?” She shook her head. “No. More like improv and stand-up comedy.”

  “It worked.”

  “I hope the show’s ratings reflect it.” She shrugged. “Viewers want drama and action. Or maybe I just think that because I’ve been doing too many adventure movies.”

  “Hey—” he chucked her under the chin “—that’s how you met a hunky stuntman who’s given you a new lease on life in the press.”

  “Oh, yes, the media.” She made a disgruntled sound that he didn’t expect. “Of course, I have to attend to my public persona.”

  He tucked his hands in his denim pockets—because the urge to comfort and, even more, get closer to her, was overwhelming. “So who is the real Chiara Feran? Odele mentioned a few details about your childhood and parents.”

  She sighed, and there was a flash of pain. “My mother was in some ways a typical stage mother, but in other ways, she wasn’t. She had thwarted dreams of being a star, so she was ambitious for me.”

  “Things didn’t work out for her?”

  “Well, she had some modest success in Brazil, so she went to Hollywood. But the Portuguese accent didn’t help when it came to acting roles. Who knows what would have happened if she’d stayed in South America.”

  Curious, Rick asked, “Your mother didn’t want more kids?”

  Chiara sobered. “No. Her marriage broke up, and I was enough for her to handle as a single parent living far from her family in Brazil. Plus, I was her spitting image in many ways, so she already had a Mini-Me. She died a few years ago, and I still miss her a lot. I have mixed feelings about my childhood, but I loved her with my whole heart. She did the best she could in raising me.”

  Rick was starting to understand—a lot. Chiara’s upbringing couldn’t have been more different fro
m his own. While he’d been tossing around a football in the backyard with his siblings, she was probably being prepped and groomed for a chance to appear in a national commercial or catalog.

  “Your mother should think of doing a food blog,” Chiara commented, changing the subject. “She needs to think of branching out and building the Camilla Serenghetti food empire.”

  “Empire?” he repeated in a sardonic tone. Because while it was one thing for his mother to have a local cooking show, it was another for her to be an empress in the making. Still... “She’ll like the way you think, and appreciate the pointers on building a brand.”

  “Of course. That’s what we’re about in Hollywood. Building a brand.” Chiara looked around. “You, on the other hand, are about wholesomeness, surprisingly enough. Or at least your family is. You come from a nice little town in Massachusetts that’s ages away from the Sunset Strip.”

  “You grew up in Rhode Island, not far from here. You’re not so different.”

  Chiara shook her head. “I’m all about performing these days. The show must go on.”

  “Whatever the cost?” Rick probed.

  Chiara nodded. “Even if the show is a sham.”

  “And yet, I think of you as real and vital,” Rick replied, stepping closer. “And my physical reaction to you definitely is.”

  She gave a nervous laugh and shook her head. “You must be mistaken. I’m Snow White, remember? A make-believe character.”

  Rick’s lips twitched. He wasn’t sure when they had gotten so mixed up. Suddenly she was insisting she was a make-believe character, and he was arguing the opposite.

  One thing was for sure: he was more determined than ever to finish exploring their very real attraction. He’d kept his distance since they’d left Los Angeles, but he wanted her with a need that was getting hard to ignore.

  * * *

  In the now nearly empty television studio, Chiara stood to one side, waiting for assorted Serenghettis to depart. Rick was speaking to his mother and one of her producers, no doubt making sure everything was in order with respect to today’s guest appearance.

  Chiara was glad for the respite. Minutes ago, her conversation with Rick had devolved into a far more intimate and personal exchange than she’d been prepared for. What had she been thinking?