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Rafe set his espresso on the high-top table situated in the far corner of the kitchen, straddled a stool and unfolded the newspaper as prep work for the lunch service ensued. He sipped his coffee as he scanned the pages for current news on restaurant closures. And sub
consciously ruminated over ways to reel in new diners so he didn’t become one more statistic, his legacy dying on the vine.
When he’d made it through the paper, he spared a glance at the clock, curious as to whether Jenna would make it in on time. She had to be exhausted, flying in from Maui and then working well into the morning in his kitchen. Knowing her, she’d skipped a few hours of sleep to spend time on her laptop checking emails and doing all the other work that went hand-in-hand with her highly successful career.
He couldn’t help but worry about her. The woman seriously needed to take some time off and recharge her batteries.
Guilt crept in on him over the fact that she’d come to help him, when she should be lounging on the beaches of Bora Bora or something. But he reminded himself he’d not asked for her help… Nor could he send her packing. For one, she was too stubborn and wouldn’t leave when she had a work-related mission. Two, why the hell would he send her away when he’d waited so damn long to see her again?
If he could just get her to hang out at the loft and relax a little. No anxiety over where she should be or what she should be doing. Just two weeks of chilling out. With him.
“Dream on, sucker,” he muttered under his breath. Jenna Scarsdale didn’t know how to chill out.
Rafe’s gaze flashed to the clock once more.
Tonio caught him and let out a low snicker. The lanky man with the same dark hair as Rafe, though worn in a more cropped style, asked, “Afraid she jumped ship, boss?”
Rafe eyed him over his shoulder. “That hit a bit too close to home, Tonio.”
Contrite, his cousin said, “That’s not how I meant it. I was joking, Rafe. You just seem panicked.”
Maybe he was. One could never tell when Jenna would breeze in or breeze out. Not even him, the one person she’d claimed knew her better than anyone. He’d quickly learned that sentiment didn’t mean dick.
As he considered this, the back door flew open and the green-eyed beauty blew in, along with the crisp, early autumn wind.
“Time?” she demanded in a low, breathless voice as she shoved the door closed with her shoulder, then rushed over to Rafe’s table.
“Ten-fifty-seven.”
“Excellent. Three minutes to spare.” She dropped a couple of large bundles in front of him. Both were wrapped in brown paper and secured with long strands of ragged twine. “Finding a decent parking spot in this town is right up there with locating the Holy Grail. I was damn lucky last night. This morning? Not so much.”
Rafe chuckled. “I warned you about that years ago.”
“Apparently, I’m not a quick study.”
“And you call me hard-headed.”
“I believe the term I’ve always used is thick-skulled,” she reminded him.
“There’s a difference?”
She smiled, a sassy grin that made desire flare within him.
His gaze slid over her from head to toe as she divested herself of the winter-white, full-length coat and draped the garment over the other stool at his table. Beneath the overcoat, she wore an emerald-green, satiny dress that rested slightly off her slender shoulders and molded perfectly to her trim, yet curvy-in-all-the-right places body. Her long legs were tanned and bare, her feet tucked into suede pumps that matched her dress in color and sported a good four-inch heel.
Her raven hair held fat, loose curls that she’d secured at the nape of her neck. The low ponytail was pulled over one shoulder. The ends of the lush strands brushed the tops of her breasts, which barely crested the bodice of her dress. A respectable amount of cleavage, he decided. Enticing without being excessive. Leaving enough to the imagination to make him hungry for more.
Keep it clean, buddy.
Impossible.
Jenna pushed her long sleeves up her forearms before she reached for the twine on the packages she’d brought in.
Rafe asked, “Have you ever been late a day in your life?”
She glanced up at him. Her crimson lips twisted in contemplation before she said, “I don’t think so.” Working on the bundles she’d laid on the table, she spread the paper wide and said, “Ta-da!” with great panache.
“Whatcha got there?” he asked as he eyed her bounty.
