Page 23 of Sasha’s Secret

Confirmation came at the end of the meal, including the light dessert Geri presented them with when she arrived to bus the dishes.

“She’s good. I thought breakfast was amazing, but that was something special.” He pushed his dessert plate to one side.

Sasha agreed with a groan. “Tell me about it. In some ways, she’s wasted here. She should have a restaurant of her own.”

Rocco agreed. “She’d make a fortune.”

Under the influence of an exquisite meal, they sat in a comfortable silence. The sounds of activity coming from the kitchen gradually diminished, eventually broken only by the sound of footsteps heading in their direction.

“Hi, guys. Everything okay with your food tonight?”

Sasha turned to see Geri peering around the wall that separated their table from the kitchen. She was wearing a mischievous grin and a teasing expression that Sasha knew was meant primarily for her. “Delicious as always, Geri, thank you. Shouldn’t you be off duty by now?”

“Just on my way, ma’am. Leave the dishes to one side—I’ll stack them in the washer in the morning. Enjoy your evening!”

And with that, she disappeared from view.

Somewhat perplexed, Sasha was still looking into the space the other woman had occupied when a question from Rocco sent fire to her cheeks.

“Did she just wink at you?”

Sasha winced. “You saw it too? I was kind of hoping I imagined it.”

“If you did, then both of us did. What was—”

“Nothing.” Sasha fixed a bright smile in place to cover up the abruptness of her response. “Absolutely nothing, she has a crazy sense of humor. Now—where were we?”

“I was about to ask you if you were ready to call it a night.”

She was… and she wasn’t. Sasha had enjoyed his company even more than she’d anticipated, leaving her reluctant to end the evening. And while she wondered how he’d react if she asked him back for coffee in her apartment, another part of her wasn’t keen on the idea of hearing him turn her down. “I guess so.”

She automatically made to pick up the plates, but Rocco beat her to it. She did, however, manage to call dibs on the glassware. Rocco followed her to the dishwasher, and once he set the dishes in the racks, he offered Sasha his arm. “Allow me.”

His accent and his smile would be any woman’s undoing. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, and at once was struck by twin impressions of heat and strength.

In no particular hurry to rush back to her suite, Sasha let Rocco set the pace. Apparently, he was in no rush either. They strolled together through the silent house, along the hall to the main atrium, and from there, to their accommodation. As they stopped outside her door, he moved his elbow to release her and turned to face her.

“I enjoyed this evening. Thank you very much for the pleasure of your company.”

His sincerity warmed her through. “The pleasure was all mine.”

Her gaze connected with his, and suddenly the undercurrent of attraction that had been bubbling away all evening burst to the surface. Sasha couldn’t help herself. She drew closer to him, her focus narrowing to concentrate on his mouth, and just as she was mentally preparing for her lips to collide with his, the shutters came down and he backed off.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening, Sasha. I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.”

And with a crushing sense of loss mingled with growing frustration, she watched him walk away.

* * *

He’d come so close to kissing her. The woman he wanted, warm and willing, and right there in front of him, and like a craven coward, he’d retreated. What the hell was wrong with him?

Stupid question. He was only using it to avoid the truth.

Rocco leaned against the wall and gazed out into the darkness beyond the terrace outside his suite and reflected on an evening spent with the woman who, to put it bluntly, had knocked him on his ass. The woman who had driven him to abandon his principles and make a beeline to the refrigerator for the beer that now chilled his fingers. He put the bottle to his lips and took a healthy swallow of the ice-cold beverage.

So close. Another couple of seconds, maybe even less, and he’d have known the sweet taste of her lips, were it not for the swift assault of a guilty conscience striking through him like a spear.

It had been so easy when all he’d known of her was that photograph. Back then, she’d been a woman he wanted to bed, no different from any of his previous lovers, no different from the women who’d come after her.