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A few times, she and Luca had dined alone when Conor played the “I’m busy” card. Sometimes she thought he was genuinely trying to push them away, but then the next time they were together, he’d be more chill, and his efforts to stay away felt almost half-hearted.
Up until now, she’d been following Conor’s lead. But today, she’d woken up and felt different. Felt more like she wanted to skirt the line—like Luca. He hadn’t initiated any more kisses, but damn if he wasn’t finding other ways to close the distance between them, to tempt her. The sexy man could push her buttons with the simplest of touches. With anyone else, a polite hand on the small of her back as they walked down the sidewalk or gently brushing her hair out of her face or leaning close to whisper something into her ear during a movie would seem completely innocent. Yet, when Luca did it, her nipples budded, her panties grew damp, and she’d wind up spending an hour with her toys, trying to masturbate the man out of her thoughts.
And it wasn’t just Harper that he was treating to those tempting touches. Sharing his first kiss with Conor must’ve spun the arrow on Luca’s dial…because it no longer just pointed at women. Conor was on the receiving end of Luca’s sexual teasing as well.
Last night, immediately after a meal shared at Conor’s penthouse, he’d claimed he still had hours of work left to do. Luca stood from the table, crossing to stand behind him and placing strong hands on Conor’s shoulders to “massage out the kinks.”
Watching Conor and Luca together was as hot as Luca’s hands on her own body. She reacted to Luca massaging his shoulders as if she was the one being caressed. As if Luca—a master electrician—was slowly and methodically rewiring her sexual system, and she was not mad about it.
She pushed those thoughts out of her mind, trying to remind herself again that they’d all agreed it wouldn’t be wise—or at least she and Conor had. She couldn’t recall Luca saying much of anything.
She didn’t expect that decision to stick, but at least it allowed her to pretend she was being an intelligent, mature adult for another hour or two.
At least the restaurant curse seemed to have lifted. Since the fire and the theft, things had been fairly smooth sailing, and Luca was going above and beyond, making sure completion of the project wasn’t delayed too much.
Glancing around the kitchenette, she tried to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. She was surprising Luca and Conor with a picnic, hoping she could entice them to knock off a little bit early. The construction crew worked half days on Saturdays, and for the last two in a row, Conor had begun working with them.
Luca had convinced the buttoned-up businessman to let him teach him some practical carpentry skills so that he could build his own bookshelves. She and Luca had both expected the idea to be turned down flat, but it turned out, Conor loved wielding a hammer, claiming it helped him work out some of his anxiety. She wasn’t sure that was true because she noticed he rubbed his chest whenever he was tense—and unfortunately, she’d seen him do it too much the past couple of weeks.
According to Luca, Conor was a quick study. So quick, in fact, that Joey had convinced him to help him put up the drywall in the kitchen. Real progress was starting to be made on the restaurant, the place taking shape and looking better than she ever could have imagined.
Even more exciting was the fact that work was underway on her future apartment as well. Another one of the Moretti Brothers’ crews had finished a job, so Luca scheduled them to start renovating the two floors above the restaurant. They were still in the gutting stage, but Harper didn’t care. Things were moving forward, and if all went to plan, she could actually be in her new home before summer ended.
Satisfied she had everything she needed, she grabbed her purse, just about to throw her cellphone inside when it started to ring. Glancing at the screen, she smiled when Bradley’s name popped up.
“Hi, Bradley. This is a surprise.” She hadn’t talked to her manager since the night of the fire. The silence hadn’t been intentional. She’d considered calling him several times, but something had always come up before she managed to dial the number.
“Hello, Harper. Have I caught you at a bad time?”
“No. Not at all. I’m so glad you called.”
“I wanted to see how you’re settling in,” he said.
She and Bradley had started working together when she was fifteen, and she and her mom signed on with his new agency. He’d impressed Mom with his can-do attitude, and while other, more reputable agencies had tried to sign her, she and her mom had decided to take a chance on Bradley.
Working together for fourteen years naturally led to a closeness, though she wouldn’t call him one of her best friends. They got along great, worked well together, and for over a decade, their goals were completely the same—to turn her into a supermodel. And they’d been successful.
Unfortunately, their relationship was still a bit fractured—at least in Harper’s mind—because of the way Bradley reacted three years ago, when she’d told him she was quitting. He’d cajoled, pleaded, cried, and cursed, but in the end, she wasn’t swayed. When it became clear that she wasn’t going to change her mind, he finally relented. The last six months, he’d been very supportive.
“It’s fantastic, Bradley. I love Philadelphia.”
“And the restaurant? Everything good there?” he asked.
“Yeah. Absolutely.”
Bradley cleared his throat. “I ran into your mom a few weeks ago, and she said something about a fire?”
“There was a small fire, but that happened early in the renovations. You can’t even tell now. The place is really starting to come together.”
“I’m happy to hear that. I was worried when she mentioned it. You’ve been so determined to open this restaurant. I don’t want anything to stand in your way.”
“Aw, thanks, that’s so sweet of you to say. How are things with you?” Harper silently hoped Bradley would have good news to share about the agency. She was aware she’d left him high and dry when she retired. Bradley represented other models, but for too many years, he’d stuffed all his eggs in one basket—hers. The agency had acquired a reputation as being the Harper firm, with all the big contracts, campaigns, and opportunities going to her.
He’d always referred to her as his lightning strike, and there was no denying over the years, he’d tried to make it hit again, but without much luck.
“Things are fine. We’re in a growing phase, obviously, but I’ve just signed two new models who remind me of young Harper Bransons.”
She smiled. “That’s wonderful. You’ll have to text me their names. I’ll follow their socials. Share some of their work.”
