Don't Break This Kiss (Top Shelf Romance Book 5)

by Jessica Hawkins

  The French restaurant I’d chosen was three blocks from Billie’s apartment. I knew it was a place she enjoyed; she had reviewed it about a year ago and given it five noodles, which was her highest rating, and one she didn’t hand out often.

  The table I’d requested was in the back corner, and I arrived early to get there before her. I wanted to see her walk in, and after a few minutes of sitting there, it happened. I gripped my hands under the table and did everything I could to keep my body calm while I watched her move across the dining room.

  Billie Paige was more beautiful every time I saw her.

  Tonight, she was exceptional.

  “Hi,” she said as she approached.

  It had been about a week, but there was a difference in her eyes. A hint of lightness that had been there before the crash but one I hadn’t seen since.

  Until now.

  “Good evening.” I stood and leaned forward, wrapping an arm across her back, pulling her against me. The closeness sent me her smell, and I closed my eyes for a second as I swallowed the Billie-scented air. Then, I felt the brush of her hair across my chin and the way her fingers clung to my back, and I knew it was time to pull away.

  “Hi,” she replied, and she took off her jacket, her shoulders bare underneath. The shirt she wore wrapped only around her torso and cut low between her breasts.

  By the time her coat was hanging on the back of her chair, my eyes had returned to her face.

  She was thinner, but the change was subtle, telling me she was also getting a little better.

  I liked her curvier.

  Even though I shouldn’t have a goddamn preference.

  “Thanks for the invite.” She was sitting, glancing around the room. “I haven’t been here in a while, but it’s a favorite.”

  The server was now at our table, showing me the bottle of cabernet sauvignon I had ordered before Billie arrived. I waited for the tasting, swirling it around in my mouth and approving it with a nod. Both of our glasses were filled before we were alone again.

  I held my wine in the air. “To a delicious dinner.”

  The dark makeup made her eyes greener, her stare more intense. “Cheers.”

  Our glasses clinked, and I took a drink, watching her do the same as I opened my menu. “What’s good?”

  “Their escargot is divine,” she said. “So is their duck and their roasted quail. It would be a disservice if you left here without sampling their croque monsieur.”

  “Sold.” I shut the large, leather-bound book and called over the server. “We’ll start with the escargot and croque monsieur. We’ll then have the duck and the quail.” I glanced at Billie. “Should we add anything else?”

  She handed her menu to the server and said, “No.”

  Now that her hands were free, Billie didn’t seem to know what to do with them.

  To distract her, I leaned in closer, gripping my wineglass. “Next pick is yours.” She said nothing, so I added, “It doesn’t have to be a restaurant. We can meet anywhere. I just want it to be a place where you feel the most comfortable.”

  She took a piece of bread out of the basket, breaking off the corner and popping it into her mouth. “Can I ask you something?”

  I nodded.

  Color rose into her cheeks, and she paused for a few seconds. “Is there a wife who’s going to get really upset about these meetups?”

  I didn’t laugh. I didn’t want to embarrass her. It was a fair question, and I could tell it had been hard for her to bring it up. It just sounded cute as hell, coming from her.

  “There’s no wife, Billie.”

  “Has there ever been one?”

  As I twisted the warm stem in my hand, I watched the dark wine swirl. “No.”

  “Kids?” My eyes returned to her, and she added, “I’ll stop drilling you, I promise.”

  I could understand how it was easier for her to talk about me.

  It just wasn’t a topic we were going to stay on for long.

  “No.”

  She exhaled and said, “Okay.”

  I reached into the bread basket, taking out a small baguette. “Tell me about the first restaurant you were paid to review.”

  She shifted in her chair, and I got a whiff of her scent again. It reminded me of when I’d initially smelled her on the plane, how there was such a sweetness, a buttercream aroma to her. Her eyes locked with mine, and I clenched my hands under the table because …

  Even through her pain, I could still see her fire.

  Billie

  “You have no idea how horrible it went,” I said to Jared, telling him about the first restaurant I had been paid to review. “There I was, in the kitchen, standing next to one of the top chefs in Miami. I was so nervous that my elbow hit the handle of a fry pan, and the hot oil spilled into the gas.” I laughed—I could now, just not when it had happened. “They stopped the fire before the entire kitchen went up in flames, but the fire department still had to come. It’s one of my most embarrassing moments of my life.” My face felt so hot, and I knew his stare had a lot to do with it. “When I left, I promised to send a case of wine from his favorite region. Needless to say, the chef didn’t pay for the review I gave him.”

  Jared smiled.

  It was the first time I had seen him do that, and it was beautiful.

  “Which wine did he pick?”

  I waited until my laughter calmed a little to answer, “He didn’t. He told me the same thing happened to him right out of culinary school and said it was a rite of passage. Now, whenever I’m in Miami, I stop in to see him. I’ve become good friends with him and his husband.”

  “Good ending to that one.”

  I nodded. “Your turn. Hit me up with your most embarrassing experience.”

  He leaned back in his chair, arms crossing. “I don’t know about most embarrassing, but I’ve got a few really memorable ones.”

  Chewing a bite of bread, I covered my mouth with the back of my hand. “Which is your favorite?”

  He shook his head, his cheeks reddening just slightly. “I delivered a baby.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  The expression that came across his face reached all the way inside my chest and squeezed every tingle that was already pulsing.

  “I was on a client’s private plane, and his wife went into labor shortly after takeoff.”

  Finishing my piece of bread, I held my wine and said, “Tell me everything.”

  “She was so far along that she wasn’t supposed to fly, except I didn’t know that. So, we weren’t even through the clouds, and her water broke.” His hand went to his beard, his grin not taming one bit. “While the pilot was trying to get us at an altitude where he could turn around, the baby started coming.”

  “Was there a doctor on board?” When he laughed, I immediately knew the answer. “So, you played doctor.”

  “That’s not a title I ever want again, but yes, that’s what happened, and I had no idea what I was doing.”

  I held the glass against my chest after I sipped from it. “But you figured it out?”

  He was laughing again. “There was a baby in her arms when we landed.”

  “And you?”

  He sighed. “Still trying to recover.”

  “Oh my God.” I was laughing so hard; there were tears in my eyes. “I can picture it.”

  He was soon making the same sound as me, and I couldn’t get enough of the noise.

  I felt the same way about his face. The top of his cheeks, where there were no whiskers, was even more flushed than before, his eyes squinted, the lines in his forehead deeper than normal.

  I liked funny Jared.

  And we were still laughing when the waitress came to our table to drop off the escargot and croque monsieur.

  He dipped a piece of his bread into one of the tiny bowls, scooping the snail on top of it. I watched it go in his mouth, and I imagined the butter and garlic, the thick texture of the meat.

  “Good?”
r />   “Delicious.” He reached forward again, this time with his fork and knife, and began to cut the fried sandwich. When it was in several slices, he picked up the end piece and bit off half. “Wow.”

  “They make the best.” I took the other end in my hand and nibbled the corner. The butter was the first flavor that hit me, so rich that it made the rough bread crumble in my mouth. The sweet ham came next, layered with Gruyere, and both were just the right amount of softness that the entire combination needed.

  It tasted so yummy that I would probably eat the whole piece.

  The thought of that made me smile so hard. “You picked the perfect spot,” I said softly.

  “It’s good to see you happy, Billie.” Before I could even process that comment, he continued, “Tell me about the best meal you’ve ever had.”

  “I get asked this all the time, and I always say I can’t pick one.” I swallowed the rest of the sandwich and wiped my mouth. “But I do have a favorite. I just won’t share it with the public because it’s such a special place that I want it just for me.”

  He looked up from his piece of bread, the chocolate of his eyes so dark when he gazed at me through his lashes. “You have to tell me.”

  I smiled as I lifted my wineglass. “My best friend and I went to Venice, Italy, a few years ago. On the night we arrived, I asked the concierge where he would take his grandfather to eat dinner. For the record, I ask the same question at every hotel I stay at, and on average, the recommendations are usually superb. The concierge took out a piece of paper and drew me a map, and that restaurant turned out to be the best meal of my entire life.”

  He had a piece of bread in his mouth when he said, “What did you have?”

  “I don’t know.” I laughed as I realized how ridiculous that sounded. “There was no menu. There wasn’t even a sign outside, just an old, weathered pink door with a gold number nine in the center. There were only a few tables and one waiter, the interior authentic in every way. The waiter asked what color wine we wanted, and then the food started to come.” I took a drink from my glass, savoring the heaviness before swallowing. “It was course after course—risottos and pastas and meats. They were honestly indescribable, and this is coming from a girl who describes details for a living.”

  “I must go.”

  I reached for my purse and took out my phone, scrolling through my pictures until I found the one I was looking for. “That’s the map.” I handed him my cell and watched him stare at the screen, his large hands making it look so tiny. He pressed a few buttons, and I had a feeling he was texting himself the photo. “I hope, one day, you get to experience the magic of that restaurant.”

  “You’re making me want to get on a plane right now.”

  I laughed, and this time wasn’t like any of the others. “I admire your ability to move on and how you won’t let fear stop you.” I didn’t want our conversation to return to the crash or any of the memories surrounding it, so I changed subjects completely. “Where did you go to school, Jared?”

  “University of Oregon.”

  I had expected a school with an excellent football team based on how he had started his company. I just hadn’t considered him at a college that was so far away. “How did you end up in New York?”

  “I’d spent a lot of time here over the years, and I knew the city well. When I decided to come off the road and park, it felt like the right place to do it.”

  “No regrets?”

  He sighed, and I wasn’t sure what the sound meant. “About New York? No.”

  “Well then, how about life?”

  His hands were free, and he surrounded them around his wine. “I’d be lying if I said no.”

  “Me, too, but do you want to hear something terrifying?” When he nodded, I took a deep breath. “I have to believe that getting on the plane wasn’t one of them.”

  After the waitress cleared all of our dishes, she returned to our table and said, “Dessert?”

  I held my stomach and shook my head. “I can’t, but dinner was as amazing as I remembered.”

  “Thank you.” She looked to Jared, who gave her the same gesture, and then she was gone.

  My eyes went back to his, and I asked, “Do you travel tomorrow?”

  “I’m home for a few weeks.”

  “Is that unusual?”

  He shrugged, never taking his eyes off me. “Depends. But when I go, I try to knock out several stops at once to give me more time at home.”

  “I do the same.” It hit me how easily I had responded but how it no longer applied, giving me the need to clarify, “Did, I mean.”

  The waitress was back, and she placed the check on the table, which Jared took. After slipping his credit card inside the leather billfold, he handed it to her.

  “You will again.”

  “You always say that.”

  His brows pushed together. “Because I mean it.”

  The seriousness in his eyes returned, his tone just as strong.

  He wanted me to believe him.

  I wanted nothing more.

  “Thank you for dinner. You didn’t have to treat me, but I appreciate it.”

  The waitress gave him the receipt, and he glanced up after he signed his name.

  “It was my pleasure.”

  Everything was already so warm. As he smiled, it suddenly turned hot.

  “Ready?”

  I nodded and got up from my chair. His hand barely touched my lower back as he escorted me through the dining room and out the front.

  “Where do you live?” he asked when we got to the sidewalk.

  I pointed to my right. “Three blocks that way.”

  “I’ll walk you.”

  It was chilly, and I pulled my jacket tighter. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine—”

  “Billie …”

  It was the way he said my name. So protective, dominant, like I was silly to even question him at this point.

  I turned in the same direction as him, and we began walking.

  After a few paces, I broke the silence. “I have to say, it’s really nice that you’re a foodie, and it’s something you enjoy talking about.”

  His eyes came to mine, and then they were focused on the sidewalk.

  “Obviously, I can discuss it endlessly. I just appreciate someone who doesn’t get tired of that.”

  “The older I get, the more I grow to really enjoy food.”

  “Which is how old?”

  I’d dug a little over dinner. There was no reason to stop now.

  “Forty-seven, which is a hell of a lot older than you.”

  It was an interesting answer.

  One I thought about and held on to as I moved in the other direction to avoid more people. Jared stepped with me, his hand still a whisper on my back.

  Instead of addressing it, I pointed at the building up ahead. “That’s me.”

  He didn’t follow my finger; his attention stayed on my face. And he looked at me with a gaze so deep and intense that I couldn’t feel the ground beneath me. Before I fell, I turned my focus to the sidewalk until we were only feet away from my entrance.

  With my stomach a mix of knots and fluttering, I came to a stop. Jared was only an arm’s length away.

  “Thank you for walking me home.” My fingers rubbed together, trying to move some of this nervous energy. “And for everything.”

  “Tell me you’re ready.”

  I waited to see if he was going to say more. “Ready …” And then it came to me, my hands now clenching together. “No, I’m not ready.”

  “Then, it looks like we’ll have to meet again.”

  He wasn’t going to stop until I said yes.

  I didn’t know if that made him the most wonderful man or the scariest. I just knew he was asking me to face my fear, and I couldn’t handle that yet.

  “How’s Thursday?” he asked. “Remember, it’s your pick.”

  That was five days from now.

  I didn’t hav
e to look. “I’ll think of something, and I’ll text you.”

  Every headlight that came by flashed across his face. I didn’t need the reminder; I knew just how handsome he was. How mature and protective, at an age I found so attractive even if he was seventeen years older than me.

  “Good night, Billie.”

  “Good night,” I said, and I reached forward and wrapped my arms around his neck.

  His hands pressed harder against my lower back, and I tightened my grip. Even though I wasn’t small, I felt that way against him. Just as I was getting used to the feel of his body, finding a cove where I fit just right, he backed away.

  As he did, my hands fell to his chest, and he halted, so they stayed there.

  He glanced at them and then back at my face. “Billie …”

  His voice was so quiet that it made me watch his mouth. I knew it already. Every dip. I could even guess what it felt like. But I still stared.

  And when I knew his had to be on me, my gaze lifted to his eyes, and I said, “You can kiss me, Jared.” My chest was pounding so hard that I was surprised I could say any words at all.

  His exhale was deep, almost feral. “Billie …” he repeated but harder this time. “Listen to me.”

  I didn’t know his hands were still on me, but I felt them on my back.

  “I want to help you get through this, and putting my mouth all over you”—his eyes dropped, and so did my stomach—“is only going to complicate things and make it messy as hell between us.” His fingers rose, going to my chin, holding it steady. “Let’s work on getting the old Billie back.”

  He only wanted to make me better.

  And because of that, I had no words.

  All I had were emotions—in my chest, in my throat, in my heart. They were swirling between each place, shooting back and forth. A circle that was moving so fast that I couldn’t hold on.

  “Text me when you decide about next week.”

  “Okay,” I answered before adding, “Good night,” and then I stepped back, my hands dropping from his chest, his fingers falling from my chin.

  I walked toward the door. I waved my fob in front of the reader and went into the lobby. I didn’t glance behind me through the glass entrance before I stepped into the elevator.