by Calista Fox
He let out a wistful sigh. “You used to be easier to sway.”
She extended a hand to him. “Give me back my dress.”
“In good time,” he mused.
Propping her hands on her hips again, she said, “Don’t make me rethink my decision to help out around here.”
“You’re not capable of backing out of a business deal.” A marriage deal was another story. Strike one against them. Pushing that thought aside before it tainted their reunion, he said, “I am a little confused by the striptease, though.” He spared a quick glance over his shoulder at her discarded shoes. “I’ll admit you could eat off this floor after Carlo cleans it, but I’m surprised you’d go barefoot in here.”
“Spend twelve hours in four-inch Pradas and tell me you don’t want to kick them off at the end of the day.”
“I don’t know how you wear them for one hour,” he said, “let alone twelve.” Though he’d always found the high heels provocative on her, especially with her statuesque figure. The woman had legs that didn’t quit.
He’d never known he was a gam-man until he’d walked into a Tuscany winery and had gotten a load of the most gorgeous pair of sculpted, bare, silky-looking legs he’d ever laid eyes on. Her scarlet miniskirt had shown them off in high style, and Rafe had made a beeline for her, forgetting his wine-sampling expedition.
Speaking of miniskirts… His gaze slid over her body. “Guess your clothes felt confining too?”
“I put on a few pounds in Maui,” she admitted. “That dress is a little snug. But I’d still like to have it back.”
“Eventually.”
She tried to fight off another smile but was unsuccessful. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Isn’t that what attracted you in the first place?” His opening line at the winery had been rather bold, after all. Something about ditching her tour guide and group to share a Super Tuscan Sangiovese with him in front of a cozy fire at the private villa he’d rented. She’d taken the bait.
“Your supreme confidence aside,” she said with attitude, “it was your baby blues that won me over.”
Jenna stared into his eyes, the way she used to, as though she swam in his irises, forgetting all else. He liked when she looked so intently at him. Unfortunately, the moment passed all too quickly.
“I really don’t need to feed into your male ego.” Changing the subject, she said, “Tonio let me in and set me up with the food samples and wine. I hear Chianti is still your best seller. Considering the impressive wine cellar your cousin Giovanni has stocked, don’t you think it’s time we dispel the myth that it’s the only red that goes well with Italian food?”
Rafe wasn’t in the mood to talk shop, but he couldn’t disagree with her. “That’s the way it’s always been at Sampogna’s.”
“If that’s the best answer you can give me, there’s no reason not to change it.”
Again, her observation was difficult to dispute. “I have put a lot of money into Gio’s extensive collection. It’d be nice to see a return on my investment.”
“My thoughts exactly. I was thrilled to peruse the list when he emailed it to me.”
“You sneaky devil.”
“Just trying to help,” she said with a modest shrug. “When you mentioned the legendary Carnelian Room closing a while back, and then a few other San Francisco favorites shutting down over the past couple years, I knew you were shook up. Last time we talked, you said you had more empty tables than usual. I got worried myself.”
Without doubt, the situation alarmed him. Seemed every week he read or heard about another renowned restaurant closure in the Bay Area. Since traditional Italian eateries were practically a dime a dozen in this town, he felt justified in obsessing over the less-than-stellar amount of reservations in the book.
“That’s why I’m offering my services and expertise for two whole weeks,” she told him. “Free of charge. Take advantage of it, because not many people hear those three little words from me.”
He frowned, ignoring that last sentiment. There were three other little words Rafe wished like hell she’d say to him, because it’d been much too long since she’d uttered them.
Mentally shaking his head, he focused instead on her offer.
Despite her generosity and her much-appreciated concern for the fate of Sampogna’s, he said, “Why don’t you just take a vacation like normal people do when they have spare time on their hands?”
She shrugged again, feigning nonchalance he didn’t buy. The flash of uncertainty in her eyes gave her away. “I didn’t expect to wrap up so early in Maui, so I didn’t make any plans. And,” she added in a slightly edgy tone, “we both know I’m not like normal people.”
She had a point. He said, “Without your work, you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself for two whole weeks.”
“Not a clue.”
Reaching for a wineglass, she took a quick drink. “Tonio said I’d have the kitchen all to myself tonight, so I thought I’d dive in.”
“You would have it all to yourself, but I couldn’t sleep.”
Jenna returned the glass to the table. “Please don’t get too worked up, Rafe. You said yourself you still have a devoted patronage. And I’ve got several ideas for attracting new customers. Though, I did veer off course.”
She inclined her head toward the Bose speaker on a shelf. “I synced my iPhone to your surround-sound system via Bluetooth and the music took over. The next thing I knew, I was freeing my body from its constraints and my creativity from six hours on an airplane. Being someplace familiar and comfortable with no cameras, assistants or clients watching my every move inspired me to let loose.”
“Makes sense, given that you’re always in the public eye.” A source of contention, so Rafe skipped right over it. “Just you and Billy. You always did have a thing for him.”
Jenna finally gave him a full smile. A radiant one that reminded Rafe how easily she stole his breath, even if she wasn’t standing in front of him in her lingerie. With nothing more than a dazzling smile that lit her striking features and vibrant eyes, he felt a jolt to the core of his being.
“What can I say?” she murmured in a playful voice. “I’m a sucker for bad boys with sexy smirks.”
“I’ll have to work on mine.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she mused, a twinkle in her eyes. “I’d say it’s still in top form.”
Rafe’s chest pulled tight. Maybe flirting with an ex you still lusted after wasn’t the smartest thing a man could do. But then, nothing about their marriage had been sane or sensible, so why should their post-nuptial association be any different? Besides, he liked the fact that, three years after they’d signed divorce papers, they remained close. It had to mean as much to her as it did to him, right?
Well, he hoped so, anyway. Their bond hadn’t been fully broken, but Jenna didn’t have much to say about the marriage or the divorce. As a rule, she didn’t discuss her feelings or anything that troubled her.
Strike two.
He was Italian, for chrissakes. When he felt something, he verbalized it. When he wanted something, he went after it. But when it came to matters of the heart, Jenna spooked easily. He wasn’t sure why. She’d never divulged much about her past. And, aside from the three weeks they’d spent in Italy, before impulsively marrying in Vegas, honeymooning in San Diego and then coming to his home in San Francisco, she’d never been around enough for him to find out much about her family or her upbringing.
The most significant thing he knew about her was that she had a sister named Linney, whom she hadn’t seen since her teenage years. Oh, and her parents were prone to roaming the world at will.
When he’d asked where she’d been born, Jenna had simply said, “In the family RV.”
What the fuck?
Yes, these tidbits—and the fact she’d lived out of hotels most of her adult life—should have tipped Rafe off that she wasn’t the type to settle down, despite her insistence otherwise. The hot sex had clouded hi
s mind—and had possibly impaired her judgment as well—diverting him from pressing Jenna further when she shut down emotionally.
Too bad his body, heart and soul still craved hers on a regular basis, because a happy-ever-after with this woman did not seem to be in the cards. Though, he had to admit, he’d been dealt a sweet hand tonight. Here she was, standing before him in nothing more than skimpy panties and a sexy bra that plumped up her breasts and did everything to evoke a man’s desire. And the chemistry between them still sizzled. She could barely take her eyes off him, he noted. In fact, she seemed to be as captivated as he was as she took in is six-foot-three-inch stature and dark-as-night hair.
With a fresh idea popping into his head, Rafe turned on his booted heels and sauntered off, heading toward the door that led to the dining room.
“Leaving so soon?” she taunted, as though she really thought he’d walk away when he finally had a chance to spend time with her. Ha.
“I’ll be back.” He pushed the door open, taking her dress with him so she couldn’t put it on while he was gone.
“Rafe!” she called after him, making him snicker.
He draped the garment over the back of a chair and strode over to the front door to secure it, having left it unlocked for the cops he now wouldn’t have to call. Then he crossed to the bar and grabbed a wineglass. He returned to the kitchen and set it on the table. Jenna was perched on the opposite end, her arms and legs crossed, her look a sardonic one.
Yeah, playing with fire could be hazardous for both of them. But with Jenna watching his every move and his desire for her still ratcheted to an intense level, he began unbuttoning his shirt.
“Hey!” she shrieked, her tone and expression turning incredulous. “What are you doing?”
“Helping you with the wine pairings.”
“Oh, no,” she said as she shook her head, instantly unnerved if the alarm in her voice was any indication. “I don’t need help. Go work in your office if you can’t sleep.”
Rafe laughed. “What’s the matter, Jen? Kitchen getting too hot for you?”
She sneered at him. “Please. You can’t dare me into a corner. Besides, I’m almost done here. Go away and let me finish.” She waved a hand to shoo him out the door.
“It is my kitchen, remember?”
“Which your cousin gave me free rein of this evening. Remember?”
Rafe slipped the last disc from its hole and his shirt fell open. Jenna’s gasp was a soft, lusty one this time as her gaze snapped to his pecs and abs, a magnet to steel. Her breathing picked up again.
She wasn’t the only one breathing heavy. Rafe felt the effects of her reaction to him to the depths of his soul.
Somewhat vindicated to have evened the playing field, not to mention spurred on by the flicker of sheer feminine appreciation in her eyes, he slipped out of the shirt and tossed it aside. She continued to stare at him, as though mesmerized. Her jaw even slackened.
Biting back a cocky grin, Rafe went for the top button at the waist of his jeans.
This brought her around.
“Whoa!” Jenna cried out. The hand she’d used to try to shoo him out of the kitchen jerked up again to halt him in his tracks. “Pants stay on, sailor!”
Rafe chuckled. He hadn’t planned to strip down. Just wanted to see how she’d respond to the indication he might. Ruffling her feathers was an exciting game. Granted, two strong constitutions didn’t exactly make for sensible rationale, but this unanticipated flirtation offered the most stimulation he’d experienced in longer than he could recall. So what the hell, right?
She made a move to slip from the table, but he placed a hand on her thigh to stop her. Touching her was another risky endeavor. His erection throbbed as he thought of gliding his palm over her supple skin. Brushing his fingers a little higher until he grazed that soft, inviting spot at the apex of her legs…
“Relax,” he said in a low voice. “I’m just messing with you.”
Sort of.
She gave him a smirk of her own. “Think twice about that. Two can play this game.”
How he knew that to be true! And she was damn good at it. A warning he ought to heed.
Sliding onto the stool next to where she still sat, he surveyed the eight dishes lined up along the far side of the table. She’d already nibbled on the first seven food samples.
“Looks like you’re ready to move onto the lasagna bolognese.”
“Saved the best for last,” she said as her gaze returned to his chest. Her teeth sank into her lower lip for a moment. Her voice was low and provocative as she added, “Though, I had lobster risotto and oysters earlier, two aphrodisiacs that make my toes curl.”
“Have you forgotten I’m Italian? All food is an aphrodisiac to me.”
Her eyes lifted to meet his and she seemed to contemplate their current predicament as the air crackled between them.
Eventually, she said, “Guess it’s a little late in the day to keep this arrangement on a professional level.”
“That ship has sailed,” he agreed. “But I can take it if you can.”
She nibbled her lip again. Telling him, without saying a word, she knew as well as he did they should tread lightly. But like him, he suspected she knew that was impossible.
Jenna picked up her fork and dug into the lasagna. Rafe watched her savor the cuisine, his gut clenching. At first, he reacted to the fact that she was eating his food and might find fault with it. But as she squeezed her legs together and her nipples puckered behind the black lace of her bra, his body tightened in a nearly unbearable way. Her eyes closed and she let out a long sigh.
“Delicious,” she mumbled in a dreamy voice. “I’ve waited three years to taste this again. It’s even more spectacular than I remember. Tangy sauce, zesty meat. And the ricotta… So creamy, it melts on my tongue.”
Rafe groaned as he watched her practically orgasm over his food. Needing something to douse the flames that flared in his stomach again, he set two wineglasses before him.
“What’d you intend to pair with the lasagna? Cabernet Sauvignon?” His voice was gruffer than usual. As strained as his cock against the fly of his jeans.
She opened her eyes and her gaze appeared slightly unfocused. “Um, no. The Cabernet Franc.” She shook her head, as though to dislodge naughty thoughts rambling around in her mind. How he wished she’d just say them out loud. He was more than capable of fulfilling any requests she might have, to hell with the consequences.
Reaching for the bottle, he splashed a fair amount into the glasses. They both took deep sips.
Jenna let out another sigh. “Perfect. Remember the first time we tried a Franc?”
“How could I forget? Our honeymoon at the Hotel Del Coronado.”
“What a fantastic time,” she said. “I loved digging my feet into the cool sand at the end of the day while we sipped wine, searched for shooting stars across the night sky and listened to the waves crashing on the shore.”
Rafe tried to block the images of her naked body as they flashed in his mind, along with other memories of those seven wickedly hot nights in San Diego. Making love with Jenna until the sun came up. Grabbing a few hours of sleep, a quick shower and a bite to eat, then tumbling back into bed.
As he took another drink from his glass, he fought the natural compulsion to stand up, uncross her legs and step into the vee her parted thighs would create.
He wanted to sweep his fingers over her silky skin to confirm the response his touch would elicit. He wanted to palm her breasts and kiss her full, enticing lips. He wanted to drag her panties over her hips and down her legs so he could taste the very essence of her. Inhale her intoxicating scent, which wafted his way so faintly. The rich aroma from her perfume and the subtle smell of her arousal did crazy-wicked things to his insides.
He wanted to get naked with her.
But that would be all bad and wrong.
Wouldn’t it?
Internally agonizing over his dilemma, he drained
his glass and reached for the bottle again. He poured more of the Cabernet Franc into both their wineglasses.
She swirled the burgundy-colored liquid in the bowl before sniffing it. “Nice bouquet. Bold, but not overwhelming.” Setting aside her glass, she picked up the pad of paper and the pen lying beside the food and jotted down the pairing. Returning her attention to Rafe, she added, “Feel free to finish the lasagna.”
“I would, but there’s only one fork,” he countered in a droll tone.
“Wasn’t expecting company, as you’ll recall.” Her feisty look made him chuckle. Then she stepped up the game. Hacking off a hunk of lasagna with her fork, she extended her arm in his direction, offering the bite to him.
Rafe eyed the food—and the challenge—presented. He’d never considered sharing utensils an intimate act, but that’s exactly how it felt, knowing Jenna’s mouth had been on the flatware just moments before.
She leaned toward him, the tops of her full, firm breasts cresting the scalloped edges of her bra, ensnaring him even more. Forbidden fruit had never been so irresistible.
He resigned himself to calling forth an old trick from his teenage years in order to keep his erection from popping the buttons on his fly.
Think of baseball.
Nuns at St. Mary’s High School.
Cousin Bernice’s first cheesecake. The crust of which she’d burned.
A sacrilege, burnt cheesecake.
The diversionary tactic was only mildly successful. Jenna’s gaze locked with his, making it almost impossible to think of those things he tried to concentrate on. The woman wove a web so sticky he wondered how he’d ever escape.
“Promise I don’t have cooties,” said the spider to the fly, a hint of amusement in her voice. Because she knew she was kicking ass at this game.
“Anyone ever mention you’re a bit of a smartass?”
“Not a bit,” she admitted with that dazzling smile of hers.
Italian Catholic boys knew better than to be lured by sinful-looking women in risqué lingerie, yet Rafe leaned toward this one and took a big bite out of the proverbial apple.