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“Mm-hmm. I so buy that.” His tawny eyes twinkled.
“Whatever. Hey,” she said, “we haven’t talked about last night. Huge apologies for the disastrous sob-fest.”
“Sugar plum,” he said as he gently cupped her face with his supple hands, “you have nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry I pushed you so hard. I feel as though I broke your heart.”
“It’s not you, Tad. It’s the situation. But I am glad I told you. And you know what? I felt infinitely lighter this morning after the crying jag. I really did need to get that out of my system.”
He eyed her a moment, then asked, “Does that mean you’ll try to find Linney?”
Jenna swallowed hard. “No. She doesn’t want contact with me, Tad.”
“How can you be so sure?” he asked as his hands fell away.
“Come on,” she said on a sigh. “I’m the easiest person on the planet to reach.”
“Maybe she doesn’t know you’re famous. Maybe she doesn’t own a TV.”
Jenna smirked at him.
“Or a computer. No Internet or smartphone?” He grasped at straws.
“If she wanted to speak with me, she would have sought me out a long time ago. I have to let it go, Tad. Let her go. She chose not to be my sister anymore.”
More tears prickled the backs of her eyes, but Jenna held them in check. She couldn’t constantly fall to her knees every time she thought of Linney’s abandonment.
“Well,” Tad said, glancing over her shoulder. “Mr. Dreamy has come to collect you. I’ll see you tomorrow. We have the first wave of contractors coming in at seven. And Matthew Amos has agreed to build a bar for Gio—he’ll have the sketch for us first thing in the morning.”
Jenna knew she’d be immersed in a whirlwind of activity. So tonight, she wanted to spend time with Rafe. At the loft.
He joined her and Tad, and she smiled up at him. “Ready to cook?”
Tad chuckled. “That’s what you crazy kids are calling it these days?”
“Stop,” Jenna said with a laugh. “We actually are going to cook this evening. Rafe has new menu ideas, and I get to be the guinea pig.”
“You have all the fun.”
She hugged her best friend and said, “I’ll see you in the morning. Enjoy your room service.”
“And champagne. Anyone who believes it should be saved for a special occasion does not grasp the concept that every day we’re above ground is a special occasion.” He kissed her on the cheek and made his grand exit.
Jenna watched him go, then said, “The man has a point.”
“I have a very nice Prosecco I’ll pop the cork on,” Rafe promised. “Let’s get out of here.”
They stopped at the all-night market and then deposited the groceries on the counter in Rafe’s kitchen. He divested himself of his burgundy dress shirt and handed it to Jenna. He unzipped her dress and helped her out of it—and the heels. She slipped into the shirt, thrilled it smelled like his male heat and cologne.
He poured the Nino Franco Grave di Stecca sparkling wine as she settled in a comfy barstool at the kitchen island and turned on her iPad.
Rafe handed her a glass and they clinked rims. “Salute,” they said in unison.
He took a deep sip, then went to work, whipping up samples of the items he’d mentioned days before that would supplement the antipasto menu, but that weren’t as large in portion as the appetizers. When he set a plate of soft-shell crab in front of her, she nearly melted off her stool.
“One of my favorites,” she said.
“I know.” He winked at her.
After they shared the crab, he moved onto mini-cannelloni and chicken saltimbocca, a rich, creamy Alfredo dish with tender, juicy chicken, portabella mushrooms, cherry tomatoes and prosciutto that was to die for. He also served her prawns Sambuca, flambéed in the Italian liquor and Chardonnay, with a side of angel hair pasta.
