Fresh ingredients, a Mediterranean flair, and a little off-the-beaten-path ristorante.
Leela sipped her wine, loving the way the sweet white paired with the tomato dish she’d selected. It tasted exactly as she’d expected.
No.
Exactly as sheremembered.
Same with the ambience.
But the people were all new.
Balthazar casually asked their waiter about the history of the place, which led to them meeting the owner himself.
He was an average-height, middle-aged male with beautiful brown eyes and a lovely accent. When he’d realized Leela and Balthazar spoke Italian, he had happily told them all about his great-great-grandfather who’d originally opened the restaurant.
Which meant Balthazar and Leela could have visited this establishment anytime in the last hundred or two hundred years.
It definitely hadn’t been recently, given that the current owner wasn’t familiar at all.
And other than being clearly attracted to B and Leela, he hadn’t shown a single flare of recognition when looking at them.
Balthazar had thanked him heartily for the details.
Now he kept checking in every ten minutes to see how they liked their meal.
He was adorable, so they didn’t mind. And the food truly was divine.
“Definitely a family recipe,” she decided out loud. “Because I’ve experienced this exact dish.”
Some might think Italian foods were all the same, but Leela knew better. Proper Italian cooking varied by family, down to the precise spice.
And this dish could never be replicated.
Not exactly, anyway.
Her taste buds confirmed it all. She’d eaten this dish before and in this exact same restaurant.
With Balthazar.
“I fed it to you last time,” he said softly. “We sat next to each other, and I fed you because your hand was otherwise occupied.”
“You remember?”
“Only flashes of detail.” His brown eyes lifted to hers. “Like you swallowing me for dessert.”
She narrowed her gaze. “How do I know you’re not just saying that because you’re craving my mouth on you?”
“Because I’ll always crave those beautiful lips, Lee,” he murmured. “And I don’t need to fabricate a story to seduce you.”
“True, you don’t require an approach at all, do you?” she mused, thinking back on Brazil and how he’d said that right before kissing the hell out of her on that beach. He’d demonstrated the right amount of control and tenderness to sweep her right off her feet. It’d been impressive and incredibly suave.
“What else did I do in Brazil?” he asked, a grin in his voice.
“I thought you knew it all,” she murmured, recalling his statement… When was that? A few days ago? Weeks ago? Time was moving strangely between them. Regardless, he’d said at one point that he knew everything.
But his eyes told her now that he didn’t.
Not at all.
