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The sound was a cold, hard slap in the face.
He tore his mouth from hers and swore under his breath. “Jesus, Jen. It’s not even four o’clock. Who the hell would be calling at this hour?”
“It’s almost seven in New York,” she said in a breathless voice, a hint of regret in her tone, an apology in her eyes. None of which placated him, because he already knew what she was going to say. “It’s Tad calling. He hates that we’re on vacation and is probably hoping for more work.”
Bearing the reminder of how her career was always so much more important than their relationship.
And there it was.
Strike three.
“I should take this,” she said as her gaze slid to the phone next to one of the dishes.
Rafe’s jaw set. There were more red flags waving in front of his face than he could see past. And yet, fool that he was, he threw down his own gauntlet.
“Why don’t you let it go to voicemail so we can finish what we started?”
Chapter Two
Jenna’s heart stammered and her pulse soared. There was nothing she wanted more than to finish what they’d started. Nothing. But they’d been down this road before. And there was always a big, fat T smack dab in the middle of it—leaving one to travel left or right, unable to continue straight ahead.
No matter how desperately she wished otherwise, the course they took continually split, with Rafe going one way because of his restaurant, his family, his roots. And Jenna trail-blazing every unbeaten path she could find because of her innate inability to stay in one place for long. Not to mention her insatiable need to leave a legacy behind. Evidence she’d existed on this planet.
So it was with much regret that she told him, “We got carried away. We always were good at challenging each other. Pushing the limit. But…” She reached for her phone. A long breath blew through her parted lips before she said, “I can’t ignore business.”
She connected the call and Tad Montgomery immediately launched into a rapid-fire diatribe about a message he’d received from a potential new client who wanted them in Atlanta that very week.
Her project manager eventually summed up the problem with, “Sushi joint on the verge of bankruptcy.”
“In Georgia? I’m not surprised. You can’t deep-fry a California Roll. Can you?”
“Please tell me we’re able to take this on,” he pleaded in his elegant, refined voice. “They’re desperate for our help, Jen.”
She laughed. “Yeah, like I haven’t heard that before.” Jenna never lacked for clients. However, her gaze slid to Rafe. She’d committed to him. This time, she wouldn’t let him down. “No go, though. I’ve got something lined up currently.”
“Wh-at?” The unexpected jump in octave nearly pierced her eardrum. Not that she should be surprised, given Tad’s easily excitable nature.
Her dearest friend and colleague was an extremely attractive man of mixed African-American and Louisiana French Creole descent who’d come out of the closet years ago. At least with her. He’d yet to tell his affluent family he preferred gorgeous blonde men to gorgeous blonde women, though Jenna wondered if it was really much of a mystery anymore.
“You didn’t tell me we had a job!” he sing-songed.
“We don’t. I do. Old friend.” Warmth ribboned through her as Rafe’s gaze locked with hers. “I’m in San Francisco for a couple of weeks. Then I’ll fly out to New York for the Vandenberg project that’s next on our list. Should be a doozy, so you’ll have a field day with it.”
“Yeah. Sure.” He sounded disheartened.
“Hey,” Jenna said in hopes of lifting his spirits. “You’ve hardly had a day off in months. Enjoy the next two weeks. We’re slammed the rest of the year, and I don’t want to hear you complaining about the workload.”
“Do I ever complain about the workload?”
She frowned. Tad was as much of a workaholic as she was. Some people just didn’t possess the ability to focus on anything other than business. Not necessarily a good thing, she understood. Yet…it was what it was. She’d spent the better part of her life devoted to a job that had turned into a stellar career. It was what defined her professionally.
On the other hand, what defined her as a woman currently stood about a foot away, now glowering at her. Though even Rafe’s disapproving look had such a smoldering quality to it, her inner thighs burned and her nipples tightened. He was easily the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on, with chiseled features that started at his devilishly handsome face and cascaded down his thick, corded throat to his well-defined pectoral ledge and his ripped abdomen.
A soft moan slipped from her lips. He truly was a masterpiece and elicited the darkest of desires within her. He was the only man she’d ever craved; the only one she’d ever wanted to marry. Too bad that’d been such a short-lived affair. Her fault for the most part. And something she wasn’t capable of rectifying.
Tearing her gaze from Rafe, she said into the phone, “Take a break, Tad. Go on a cruise. Spend a week at The Plaza with daily manis and pedis and endless room service. Whatever. You’ll be refreshed and ready for our next assignment. Trust me, it’ll be upon us sooner than you think. And Neil Vandenberg is one argumentative SOB, from what I hear. His son is the manager of the restaurant, and called for our help. But Senior isn’t going to like us stepping into his space and shooting holes in his business plan. There’ll be a lot of tension, I guarantee it.”
“Better to have obstacles to overcome than thumbs to twiddle.”
