Welford leaned forward and picked up the glass picture frame sitting on the edge of the desk. “This is nice.”
“My parents made it in one of those do-it-yourself glass blowing things last time they were in Venice.”
Welford palmed the it and nodded. “And the girl? She’s pretty.”
“Jessi.” Enzo couldn’t help but smile. “Yes she is.”
Welford seemed to think about something before putting the frame back on Enzo’s desk. “I really appreciated the work you did on the Johnson case, and the good will you created with the mayor. I’d like you to use those talents to help with the Ramaldi case in New York. When can you start packing?”
The New York trip. He was trying to forget about that. It was something he’d wanted for so long and now that he had it, he wasn’t sure why he’d wanted it to begin with.
He’d planned on spending every second he could with Jessi and packing would just get in the way. He was really hoping the firm would postpone this excursion indefinitely. Maybe make him partner without it. “I hadn’t really thought about it,” Enzo admitted.
“Well, you might want to get on it. We need you in New York as soon as possible.”
As soon as possible? Those words were like a noose around his windpipe. Postponing seemed out of the question.
“Are you sure I can’t do more good here?”
The sideways glance from Welford said everything Enzo needed to know. And then Welford said it. “I know we’re asking you to rearrange your life, but maybe you could talk your girl into going with you. She must know how important this is for your future. This is a huge opportunity for someone looking to be on the partner track. Are you not interested any longer?”
“No. Of course I’m still interested.” And he was. This was everything he’d worked for.
“Good.” Welford stood up, re-buttoning his suit jacket. “We’ll need you to fly out Friday.”
Friday? Enzo’s heart stuttered. “What about my current cases?” He couldn’t leave Friday. It was too soon.
“You have two days. That should give you time to transition everything. Will you be ready?”
Would he? No. There was no way. He had work to do. He had time he wanted to spend with Jessi. He thought—even if he did get this New York opportunity he’d have weeks to overdose on her laughter. He had made plans to soak up everything he could, so that being away from her wouldn’t be as hard. But if he left Friday, there was no time to imbibe. He needed more time.
But that look on Welford’s face… Enzo was out of time. He had to be ready. Whether he was or not.
“Of course.” Enzo looked around his office after Welford left. There wasn’t anything here that he’d need in New York. His picture frame? His diplomas? All of that could stay here. He didn’t even need much from the house, apart from clothes and his laptop.
But honestly…? He didn’t want to leave anything behind. Anything or anyone. He wanted to pack it all up and take it with him. Maybe Welford was right. Maybe he could.
He just needed to talk to Jessi.
Jessi set a wet, soggy piece of lasagna pasta on top of the layer of red sauce already in the baking dish. She’d already managed to splash sauce on her Ramones T-shirt and her blue jeans. The video on the web made making lasagna look so easy. But the sauce was determined to attach itself to her clothes, and the pasta was uncooperative. That didn’t happen for Giada. Maybe the Food Network used special pasta and top secret sauce.
Another splash as she tried to gently place a second slippery, squirrely sheet of pasta on the sauce. Every time she tried to straighten the pieces out, they ripped. Well, it was all getting covered with sauce and cheese and sausage, so who would notice?
She grabbed a towel and wiped at the drips, tossing it off to side. This had been a crazy labor of love. Who knew you had to cook everything before you even put the lasagna together? Had she known, maybe she would have picked something a little easier—or ordered take out and pretended she’d made it.
“You know, I can make this.” Enzo’s arms wrapped around her waist from behind as his lips found the spot just shy of the ticklish area that made her knees weak.
“No way you’re winning this bet.” She sprinkled some sausage and cheese and added another layer of noodles as his lips slid up her neck, hitting that ticklish spot. “I’m making dinner. And it will be fabulous.”
Ten bucks and a back massage was on the line. When Enzo found out she wanted to make lasagna, he offered to do it for her. He didn’t think she could make dinner. Well, she was going to show him. Mostly she just wanted the back rub.
Speaking of rubbing. His hand slid lower on her stomach. And then lower, until it wasn’t touching her stomach any longer. His hand was sliding beyond the waistband of her jeans and then…colors and warmth… He felt so good.
Her eyes slid closed. Her breath sputtered in short, choppy bursts as her heart hammered in her chest. She leaned back and rested her head on his shoulder.
A groan rumbled through his body. “Weren’t you in the middle of something?” he whispered in her ear. Hot and breathy.
She had been. She’d been in the middle of something. His fingers tipped, offering just enough pressure. The…the…something. She swore she had been doing something. Lasagna.
Wait. Lasagna. This was a ploy. She pulled away. “You’re trying to distract me.”
His tentacles pulled her closer. “Is it working?” That low baritone vibrated in her ear. She felt it in her core.
Yes. “Nope.” She pushed him back, toward the kitchen island. “Go away.”
“Are you sure?” He reached out and slipped a finger through the loop of her jeans. “Dinner is overrated.”
Dinner might be overrated, but winning was everything. “Go.” She smacked his hand away and went back to the counter to reread the recipe. Where the hell had she stopped? “What comes next?”
“More gravy. Although your shirt looks like it’s gotten enough.” He shook his head and chuckled. “You know, I offered to do this for you.”
Her eyes didn’t acknowledge his words. She kept focused on the printed-out instructions in front of her. “You don’t think I can make this.”
“No, I didn’t want you to have to make it. It’s a pain in the ass. But now that there’s a bet.” His hand landed on her ass. “Now I want to win.”
She pulled his hand off her ass and sighed. “It doesn’t say anything about gravy on this thing.”
“Sorry, it’s an Italian thing. Meat sauce.”
She added another layer of sauce and pasta. It didn’t look right. Hopefully, it would taste right. Once the mess of ingredients was in the pan and spilling over, she put it in the oven and set the timer.
“Bet or no bet.” Enzo came up behind her. “I find it incredibly sexy that you’re making me dinner.”
“Really? Is it the 1950’s stereotype that does it for you?”
“No.” He leans in with a smirk. “It’s you, so comfortable in my home.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. It was perfect and sweet. And she could admit she liked the feeling of being so at ease in his house—so at ease around him. “How long does it have to cook?”
“Forty-five minutes.”
Forty-five minutes? That was way longer than she had thought. That was plenty of time to do all kinds of fun things. “Oh my, what shall we do with all that time?”
“I have an idea.”
She leaned into him and nibbled on Enzo’s ear. His groan told her she might be doing the right thing. When he picked her up and carried her down the hall, she knew. His hand swatted at her ass, then opened the bedroom door. He turned his head, and a dull nibble came through the sleeve of her shirt.
She laughed and twitched her legs. “You bit me.”
“Just wait.” He dropped her to the bed and hovered over her. “I’m planning on biting all over.”
Her body hummed just thinking about it.
Two hours later, after plenty o
f sex—including some deliciously sore nibbles on her thighs from one hunk—and a hunk of mostly edible lasagna, Jessi sat in the living room with a glass of wine. Her Ramones shirt hung over bare hips as She drew her bare legs onto the couch and tucked her feet under her, tugging her dirty Ramones T-shirt down lower. “Do you want to watch a movie?”
Enzo sat on the couch—all the way on the other side of the couch. “Not yet. I wanted to talk to you.”
“That sounds ominous.” She inched closer. If he wanted to talk, he’d have to do it with her cuddled up against him.
“I’m hoping it’s not ominous.” He reached across her lap and laced his fingers through hers. “So, my boss came in today and said I got the New York gig.”
She heard the words and knew she should be excited for his success, but part of her wanted to just say no. Instead she said, “That’s wonderful. Why do you sound so upset?”
“They need me in New York a lot sooner.”
“How soon?” Her stomach knotted into a French braid. She didn’t want to see him go. She thought they had a month or so before this happened. How much worse could it be?
“End of this week.”
So much worse. “Oh.”
“So…I was thinking.” He ran his thumb over the palm of her hand. “Why don’t you come with me?” The look on her face must have been priceless, because he started rambling. “I know we haven’t been dating long and this comes out of left field, but why don’t you come with me?”
“To New York?” Move away from Chicago? She didn’t want to leave the city. She didn’t want to leave her new job. Her school. Her mother.
“Yeah. You could hang out with me in New York.” He was so excited. His hands moved up and down and he had a big grin on his face. He obviously thought this was a good idea.
“Hang out?”
His smile wobbled and his hands dropped to his lap. “You could stay with me and have spa days or whatever you want while I’m working, and then we’ll go out at night.”
He’d work all day and she’d clean the house or haunt the spa and slowly lose herself. The kept woman. She couldn’t be kept. She didn’t want to be. “What about my job? I love my job.”
“You could get a new one.”
A new job. Like it had been so easy to find this one. Especially while she was still in school. She’d forgotten all about school. “What about school? How long will you be in New York?”
“I don’t know, but there are schools in New York.”
“So, I could get another job I like and transfer all my credits to a new school and still be forced to leave that one, too.” She was already on the ten-year-plan. Switching schools would put her on the twelve-year-plan. At least.
“Maybe Maggie would hold your job, and credits can be transferred.” Enzo’s voice had gotten quiet. The excitement from his initial question was gone. He knew. He had to know.
She couldn’t expect Maggie to hold her job after only a few weeks of working there. “They’d have to replace me here.”
“I’m just…going to miss you.” His eyes drooped in sadness. She had a feeling she looked the exact same.
“I’m going to miss you too.” She slid her hand in his and leaned her head on his shoulder. “But hopefully you’ll be back soon and it’s only a two-hour flight. I can come and visit and you can come back.”
“I will come back.” Enzo made the words an oath.
“Good. And I will come visit.” Her head rose and fell with every breath he took. She could admit she was going to miss this. Well, she could admit it to herself—not necessarily out loud. “Do you want to watch something?”
His lips found her forehead. “I am.”
She smiled and snuggled closer. She needed to soak up as much time with him as possible. She needed to remember this feeling—remember him. Because next week she’d be alone, cold, listening to her mother yell about her daughter’s lack of a social life and probably counting down till the next time she’d see him.
She didn’t want to think about that right now. Right now, she wanted to talk to Enzo. About anything. She looked around the room. Maybe she could help him pack. “What are you going to do with all your stuff?”
“My stuff will stay here. I only need to pack some clothes.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
She climbed into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Yep. We don’t have to waste time putting things in multiple boxes. You can focus on mine.”
“I’m planning on spending a lot of time packing that box.”
His naughty smile accompanying the words made Jessi’s core throb with need. “Thank goodness I like what you’re packing.”
He groaned and pulled her close. Heat. Raunchy, playful flames slithered down her spine and pushed her closer. Never close enough. But she planned on rectifying that. Tonight. Tomorrow. Over and over again.
That was all she planned on doing until he ripped himself from her arms.
Ten
Friday morning.
Friday—the day Jessi would have to say goodbye to Enzo—morning. The day she’d been dreading since the moment he mentioned going to New York.
She shoved her clothes into her backpack and felt her heartache try to escape on a sigh. It didn’t go. Her heart still hurt. Her body hurt, but in a good way. She’d been with Enzo every night since she found out the timeline had been moved up. Long nights of wonderfully rigorous activity. She was exhausted. Which should have made the impending weeks of recuperation seem positive. But nothing about today was positive.
Enzo cleared his throat. “The car will be here in a few minutes.”
“I said I can drive you,” Jessi said for what felt like the tenth time.
“You have to get to work, and driving to O’Hare in rush hour isn’t something I’d wish on my worst enemy.” He dragged his large suitcase off the bed and wheeled it out into the living room. Jessi trailed him as he walked around the quiet house, checking to make sure nothing was left on. “I hate leaving the house alone like this.”
“I can do a drive by and make sure it doesn’t burn down.” She laughed, although it wasn’t all that funny. But she had to laugh or she was going to cry.
“That’s a good idea.” His face sparked with a huge smile. “Do me one better. Stay here.”
“Tonight?” Why would she stay in his place tonight? Without him. Didn’t that just defeat the purpose?
“Not just tonight. Stay here while I’m gone.” He must have seen something in her expression that indicated how silly this idea was. “That way I won’t worry about the house burning down and you’ll have a place all to yourself.”
“But…” Jessi shook her head.
“But what? I need someone to take in my mail and keep an eye on the place. If it looks deserted someone could break in and take all my stuff. Having you here is good for me. And for you.”
The thought of moving out of her mother’s house… it made her pulse buzz with excitement. “I’d have to pay you.” If she didn’t have to pay first month, last month and a fee, she might actually be able to move out.
He shook his head. “Why would you pay me to house sit? I should be paying you.”
“You can’t pay me.”
“We can talk about that later if you change your mind.” He dangled the key for the front door in front of her. “Stay here. For me.”
Jessi tried to keep her hand from grabbing those keys. She only knew Enzo a few weeks and he was giving her a house—okay, lending her a house. Who did that? And who took the keys after only a few weeks?
She twirled the silver objects in her hand. She did, apparently.
“You know most of the secrets. Don’t use the broken toaster. The mailbox is outside, and the lip of the box sticks. I’ll leave the keys for my car in the bedroom. If you need the car, I moved it to the garage out back.”
“I have a car.” It was bad enough he was lending her a house. She couldn’t take his car, too.
/> “For emergencies, then.”
“Okay.” She hoped she wouldn’t need it. There was no way she’d be seen driving a car that expensive.
“Don’t worry.” He leaned in, his breath mixing with hers as his cheek caressed hers. “Take care of my place while I’m gone. And I will show you how incredibly grateful I am when I come back in two weeks.”
Her body shivered at the thought of how he’d show his gratitude.
The doorbell rang.
“They’re here.” Enzo pulled away from her and answered the front door. “Take these two bags,” he told the driver. I’ll be right out.”
Enzo closed the door as silence settled over the room.
“Two weeks.” His hand slid along her hip. His mouth came down on hers. Strong lips. Soft. The kiss wasn’t demanding. But damn if his lips weren’t sure. It felt familiar and perfect.
He drew back, and her lips shivered from the lack of him.
“Two weeks,” Jessi said, blinking hard.
“I’ll text you when I land.”
“Okay. Good-bye, Enzo.”
“Not good-bye. See you later.” His lips found hers one last time before he turned to the door.
“Enzo,” she called as he walked out the front door. “I’ll see you later.”
His lips turned up in that smile that melted her heart and indiscriminate pieces of her clothing. “I’ll text you.”
She followed him outside, and watched the car disappear. Her piece of crap car sat at the curb. She could go home. Talk to her mom. Tell her about the new living arrangement. Although that would lead to crying or arguing—definitely a headache. She didn’t care if she was doing the ultimate walk of shame. She was going to work. Heading back inside, Jessi got her purse and carefully locked the door to the house behind her.
Although, did it count as a walk of shame if only her pants were recycled? Her phone buzzed as she slid into her car. There was only one person she wanted to hear from, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t send a text until he landed. Even so, she couldn’t stop herself from checking the screen.
Busting In (Busted Series Book 1) Page 9