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he turned to me with a dazzling smile that made me want to throw myself into his arms and beg him to
do whatever he wanted to do to me. Moistening my lips, I took a step back but didn t avert my gaze.
His feet were bare; his blue jeans hung low on his hips. His hair was damp from the heat, and the
muscles of his torso were clearly visible beneath the white snug cotton of his tee. But what drew my
immediate attention was the tattoo covering his upper left arm. I hadn t noticed it the morning I woke
up with him in my room, maybe because his left side had been turned away from me and there were so
many other things that had captured my attention, like his barely covered modesty.
I inched closer to peer at it, but didn t dare touch him. The solid black curves ended in points
and interlocked in a complex pattern that looked like your usual tribal tattoo, only there was
something about it that seemed odd. Right in the middle of it, the swirls combined to resemble a face
surrounded by tiny leaves. For some reason it seemed strange that Jett had a tattoo. Judging from his
business reputation and the fact that he had no problem signing a sex contract, I figured him as your
usual I-don t-love-just-fuck type, but the tattoo made it seem as though he had a past people didn t
know about. I wondered whether his confidence was the result of once being a bad boy. Maybe his
assertiveness wasn t just cockiness. Maybe he dared take what he wanted because his past had taught
him he could.
Brooke?
Jett s voice jolted me out of my thoughts. I peered up into his deep eyes the color of green
marble, only now realizing he had been speaking to me.
Sorry, what?
I asked whether you liked seafood.
Seafood s great, thanks.
Something shimmered in his gaze. He regarded me in silence for a moment, his expression
indecipherable. And then his mysterious mood shifted, and a lazy smile lit up his face. I gave the
chef the evening off.
Why? I leaned against the counter and watched him decorate the plates by pouring a thin
layer of cream sauce onto the white china and then drawing thin, concentric circles with a teaspoon.
Why not? He shrugged, as though no further explanation was necessary. We re in Italy.
Ah. I nodded. It smells amazing.
Jett finished his concoction while I decked the table and steered the conversation toward the
history of the house, which was the safest topic I could think of. Eventually Jett ordered me to sit
down as he opened a bottle of white wine and poured two glasses, handing me one.
Here s to a new business venture. Jett raised his glass to mine, and we chinked.
And to a new job. I took a sip. Although I couldn t usually tell the difference between one
wine brand and the other, even my inconsequential taste buds picked up a hint of gooseberry and
apple. This is good. I took a generous sip and forced myself to put down the glass before I ended up
drunk and generous, like the last time I mixed alcohol with Jett.
It s a Fume Blanc, Jett said. My favorite with fish. Dive right in.
He gestured at the plate before me. I plunged my fork into the fish trimmings, tiny shrimps,
scallops, and clams atop a pasta nest, and rolled a few bands with the help of my spoon, then pushed
them into my mouth, chewing slowly. The aroma of fresh pesto spreading over my tongue almost made
me moan with pleasure.
It s delicious, I said, licking my lips.
Jett s eyes wandered to my mouth and his gaze turned a shade darker. Self-consciously, I
wiped my fingers across my lips, and then put my fork down, my appetite slowly dissipating at the
lust in his eyes.
Do you have any idea how hungry I am, Brooke? he said so low I had difficulties hearing
him. He wasn t talking about the food and we both knew it. I swallowed hard and took a gulp of wine
to moisten my dry mouth. It didn t help.
I
Holy cow, the guy knew how to turn up the heat. My whole body was on fire, and he hadn t
even touched me yet. Well, not physically. His eyes were doing all the work. I should be playing hard
to get. But for once in my life I didn t want to. I was in a different country, stuck in a beautiful villa
with a bottle of wine and a hot guy who knew how to make a woman feel special. Sylvie always said
a bit of danger never hurt anyone. Well, why not have it all? Life s too short and I had nothing to lose
anyway.
Jett s gaze moved down my neck to my chest, then back up again, lingering on my mouth.
More wine? he asked hoarsely. At my nod, he stood to refill our glasses. His fingers
touched my hand, sending delicious electric impulses down my spine. I gasped and bit my lip to stifle
the sudden need pooling between my legs. In one swift motion Jett captured my face in his hands and
pressed his mouth against mine. His lips melted into mine, and then his tongue slipped inside my
mouth, pushing, probing, circling my tongue in a slow and erotic dance. Fire spread through my body
and gathered in my abdomen, waiting to erupt like a volcano. I pressed my thighs together to intensify
the aching sensation that could take me over the edge.
Brooke, Jett moaned into my mouth. The tone of his deep voice with the slightest hint of a
sexy Southern accent vibrated inside of me, tugging at the right cords. His palm moved to my neck as
our tongues entangled one more time before he let go. Leaving us both breathing heavy, he returned to
his seat, his eyes fogged over with lust.
Don t stop.
If there wasn t a table between us, I would have clung to him, begging him to finish what he
started. But there was the table. And reality.
Thank goodness for reality.
It kicked in pretty hard and fast. Drawing a long breath, I folded my shaky hands in my lap and
gazed up at him. His burning eyes were shaded by long lashes that brushed his tan skin as he closed
them for a second.
We should eat. Dinner s getting cold. As though to demonstrate his point, he retrieved his
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