Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 509(@200wpm)___ 407(@250wpm)___ 339(@300wpm)
My heart rate increased. “I see you didn’t take advantage of your new wardrobe.”
He lifted his eyebrows in challenge. “You don’t like the way I look?”
“That’s not what I said.” How I felt about his looks was irrelevant.
He nodded and tried holding back a smile. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”
As he passed me, I muttered an expletive that he caught. The sound of his laughter in the open hallway made me smile against my will. Being here with the provoking playboy was a nice distraction. Had I shown up alone again, memories of my grandfather might have overwhelmed me, which wouldn’t have helped me get into the necessary mindset for the Paxis tournament.
I was counting on Jett to keep things shallow. Physical. Distracting.
When we arrived in the main gathering room at the center of the house, Concetta was there to lead us to the dining room.
“The chef kept it simple tonight with a salad, grilled fish, and a little sorbet for something sweet at the end.”
“Perfect,” I said, thanking her again and gesturing for Jett to take the seat next to mine.
As he pulled the cloth napkin into his lap, he made a point of eying the large table. “We could have eaten in the kitchen since it’s just the two of us.”
“The kitchen doesn’t have the view,” I said. “Besides, I’m pretty sure Roberto would have put a curse on us if we dared trespass on his territory. My grandfather was the only one who could sneak in there and share a coffee with the temperamental chef.”
“Not misbehaving little boys like you?” Jett asked, a knowing sparkle in his eyes.
“He once smacked me with a wooden spoon. I won’t be taking any chances.”
The sound of his laugh relaxed me enough to smile back as an attendant came in with our salads. Once she was gone, Jett breathed out a “Holy shit, this looks amazing” under his breath.
“Welcome to Italy, where everything is fresh and local. You’ll discover why I keep on an abusive chef.”
He took a bite and groaned, the sound giving me pleasure in multiple ways. I liked watching him eat. Even though it had been over three years, I hadn’t forgotten how skinny he’d been in Amsterdam. How he’d attacked the food I’d ordered like a man starved.
Feeding him was satisfying. Making him happy was addictive.
“What are your favorite foods?” I asked, trying to make it sound like nothing more than polite conversation. As his host, providing for him was my responsibility. That was all.
“Mm, well, this goes on the list now. Fresh tomatoes, balsamic. Basil. To die for. But I also like the usual suspects. Pizza, pad Thai, a good filet. Sushi, if it’s fresh. What about you?”
The reminder that he had wealthy men buying him sushi and steak was unwanted. I batted it away in my mind.
“Agreed on the filet. There’s a shrimp fra diavalo at a restaurant in LA I can’t get enough of. And I’m secretly addicted to a chocolate tea biscuit you can only get online or in Europe. Minnie always has a stash in the office for very bad days.”
Jett laughed. “I can’t imagine you sulking in your office with a sneaky packet of chocolate cookies. What does that even look like?”
I pointed to my face without changing my expression. “Like this.”
His laughter made me imagine pulling him into my lap. Something I would never do with a man in a million years.
“You’re terrifying,” he said through his smile. “People must quake in their boots on your bad days.”
We finished our salads and started on the fish, which was served alongside a fresh lemon and caper pasta dish. Jett acted like he’d never had food before, the way he ooh’d and ahh’d over it. Concetta was in seventh heaven, and I could tell she couldn’t wait to report back to Roberto that he had a new fan in the house.
“Tell me about your family,” I said, curious whether he would explain the discrepancy between the single-mom story in his background investigation and the dads he’d mentioned. It was possible he had a single mother and a biological father who was married to another man, but he’d never mentioned a mother.
He swallowed and nodded, looking suddenly serious. “I, ah… I have two dads. I told you that. And a brother and sister. Gabe and Becca.”
I nodded but didn’t speak and risk derailing him. Maybe they were half siblings or stepsiblings.
“I grew up at the beach. Went crabbing. My dads met there as kids and then met again later.” He glanced out at the sea. “We all like to go out on the water. Sailing, skiing, paddling. Doesn’t matter. I love being on a boat.”
He seemed to realize something because his eyes widened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
“Sorry for what?”
“Your dad. Didn’t he die in a boating accident? I thought I read online—”