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When Luca returned, he asked, “You two ready?”
Harper nodded and the three of them walked together to the pub.
As far as nights went, Conor had to admit, this one had been un-fucking-believable.
And it wasn’t even over yet.
Chapter Two
Harper walked between Conor and Luca as they headed to the pub, discreetly trying to take stock of the two men. She’d met Conor in person before and had gotten to know him a little, so she felt a bit more comfortable with him. He was a tall, handsome man, his medium-brown hair cut stylishly, longer on top, shorter in the back and on the sides. He had a well-trimmed beard that she found ridiculously sexy. He wasn’t overly muscular, though he was fit.
During their previous meetings, he’d always worn a bespoke suit with solid-color silk ties—as if a pattern would simply be too wild for him. Everything he wore screamed wealth, though she didn’t think that was his intent. Instead, it felt as if he’d discovered his style at some point in time and just stuck with it for ease and comfort’s sake. Tonight, he’d broken the pattern, but only barely, opting for black dress slacks and a crisp white button-down shirt, sans tie, which meant he’d left the top two buttons undone, giving her the tiniest peek at his throat and sternum. No visible tats on the straitlaced businessman. No surprise there.
While she’d seen Luca on the computer screen, he’d been relegated to one tiny square during the video chats. The man really needed a lesson in backlighting because the window behind his desk meant he’d always been more silhouette than detail. That small square hadn’t kept her from figuring out the guy was built with a capital B, but she hadn’t realized just how large he’d be…or how fucking gorgeous.
She wasn’t a short woman—five-eight before heels—but his size dwarfed hers, something she’d rarely experienced. Luca’s broad shoulders, thick arms, and calloused fingers revealed a man who worked with his hands, and worked hard. His skin was a darker tan than Conor’s, though both men boasted of Italian genes, which had granted them that lovely olive skin tone she loved.
Luca also sported a beard, but his was thicker and more unruly than Conor’s, though his hair was shorter. Luca was probably one of those guys who owned his own set of clippers and he just slapped on the same guard every time and went for it in front of his bathroom mirror.
While Conor was dressed up, Luca wore loose-fitting jeans that were almost too well broken in and a basic black T-shirt that wasn’t overly tight. She hated those men who bought their shirts a size too small thinking it made them look more buff. Luca didn’t have to resort to smoke and mirrors because he was the definition of strapping.
She had noticed tattoos peeking out of his shirt sleeves during their meetings, but she hadn’t realized quite how colorful or extensive they were. Luca had full-sleeve tats on both arms, intricate, heavy patterns in black, gray, and red. She’d always been a sucker for tattoos, and Luca’s looked utterly lickable.
They’d just turned a corner, the sign for the pub Luca had suggested halfway down the block, when her phone rang. Harper pulled it out of her purse and sighed. It was her first night of freedom and she kind of wanted to keep it that way. For a moment, she considered letting the call go to voicemail, but she knew Bradley Renner, her manager—former manager—was probably just making sure she’d arrived okay.
“I need to take this,” she said to Luca and Conor, who politely moved a few steps ahead of her, giving her some privacy. “Hey, Bradley.”
“Hello, Harper. I wanted to see if you got there safely.”
“I sure did,” she replied. “Traffic was a beast getting out of the city, but once I hit Jersey, it let up.”
“That was my fault,” Bradley admitted. “I’m still not sure we should have gone with headshots. Maybe I should talk to the client and see if?—”
“The client was perfectly happy with the shots we got.”
For most of her career, she’d deferred to her ambitious manager because their goals had lined up. She’d wanted to be a supermodel, and he’d wanted to get her there. It was the perfect working relationship.
“You’re right. They were happy. I’m dropping it.” She could hear the smile in his voice.
“Wow. I’m seeing real growth here, Mr. Perfectionist.”
Bradley chuckled. “Haha. Is everything good with the restaurant?”
“Yep,” Harper lied. There was no way in hell she was telling Bradley about the fire. He would probably take it as some omen that her new venture was destined to fail.
As soon as she thought it, she felt guilty. Yes, Bradley had worked overtime to convince her to change her mind once she decided to leave modeling, but when she graduated from culinary school, he realized how serious she was, and since then had been her biggest cheerleader—after Mom and Luna.
“The restaurant is absolutely perfect. Everything is terrific.”
She noticed both Luca and Conor slow down a bit, Conor even glancing over his shoulder at her. So much for privacy.
She gave him a one-shoulder shrug and a no-big-deal look, and he turned back around. “Listen, I’m on my way to dinner with Luca and Conor. My contractor and business partner,” she clarified, though she’d said their names to Bradley before. “Why don’t I call you in a week or so when I’m more settled and we can chat longer?”
“Okay,” Bradley said. “Sounds good.”
“Talk to you soon.”
“Goodbye, Harper.”
