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Being tasked with cooking helps to calm me, particularly since I undertake it with a large glass of wine in hand. I peruse the refrigerator and walk-in pantry for dinner ideas, knowing that if I were cooking for myself in a place of my own, the options would be far more limited. Fortunately, Nick’s idea of staples means I can make virtually anything I’m capable of putting together.
I settle on lasagna, my mom’s family recipe and one of the few dishes I can make with reasonable competence. Once the pan of cheesy, saucy goodness is in the oven to bake and the kitchen is cleaned up, I grab a shower and change into something more suitable for dinner than my jeans and T-shirt.
By the time Nick arrives about an hour later, I meet him at the door in a simple, sleeveless black dress and heels, with the long string of pearls roped loosely around my neck. Soft jazz music flows over the sound system. Inside the apartment, the lights are dimmed and warm orange flames dance in the glass-fronted gas fireplace in the living room.
“Hi,” I say, stepping aside to let him in.
“Hi yourself.” He pauses just inside the foyer and closes the door, then reaches out to catch me around my nape for a hot, unrushed kiss. When we part, his gaze is dark and appraising. “If this is your idea of dinner in, I’m never making reservations anywhere ever again.”
I smile, needing his touch more than he can possibly know. I turn my face into his palm as his caress drifts around to my cheek. I feel the scars on h
is fingers, and in the warm cradle of his hand. Scars that have an entirely new meaning to me now.
Sorrow for what he suffered—during and after his violent altercation with his own father—stabs me with fresh pain as he tenderly holds my face in his savaged hand. I kiss him there, my throat tightening with emotion again.
“Hey,” he says quietly. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I nod, reaching up to place my hand atop his. “I’m more than okay now that you’re here. Now that you’re home with me.”
He bends to brush his lips against mine again, gentle licks and nips that make my senses tingle with awakening desire. He releases me on a groan, then shrugs out of his suit jacket and folds it over the back of a chair in the living room as we walk deeper into the penthouse together.
He glances at the dining room, which is set for dinner with fine china and crystal, everything glimmering beneath the flickering light of the pillar candles burning at the center of the large, dark wood table.
“Everything looks and smells amazing.” He looks back at me, amusement glittering in his eyes. “What did I do to earn all of this?”
I smile up at him. “Who says you’ve already earned it?”
His dark brows rise as he strokes his fingers over the length of pearls that plunges all the way to my abdomen. “You plan on putting me to work or something, Ms. Ross?”
“Or something.” I grin, taking a step away from him. “You can start by pouring us some wine while I plate the salads and serve dinner.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
I try not to be distracted, feeling his gaze studying me—and, yes, undressing me—while I make everything right with our meal and join him at the table. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at this man and not melt under the heat of my want for him, and tonight is no exception.
No, tonight everything is intensified, including the love I feel for him.
As we eat and drink our wine, he tells me about the deals he’s working on this week, including the mobile app launch that’s coming up in London early next month.
“Lily sent me home with your passport application,” he says, setting down his wineglass. “I’ll have you sign it in the morning and then we can go and get your photo taken to complete the submission.”
“Tomorrow?”
“Do you have other plans?”
“No. Nothing special.” I take a sip of my wine and try not to think about Rodney or the money, and the fact that I need to contact him tomorrow and put this whole mess out of my life. “I don’t have firm plans for anything, but I just . . . I had hoped to spend the day in the studio.”
Nick nods. “That’s no problem. I’ll drive, and when we’re finished I’ll take you to East Harlem.”
My smile feels thin. “All right.”
“You never told me how it went the other day.” He polishes off the last bite of lasagna on his plate, then glances up at me. “Lita’s exhibition. How did she do?”
“Oh. She did great.” Even though the exhibition happened only yesterday, it feels like a week after everything that’s happened since. “It was an amazing event, and aside from some pre-show jitters, Lita really shined. She’s even got an invitation from the head of some hot new technology firm to propose a piece for their building in Brooklyn Heights. I’m not sure what she was more excited about—trying to win the spot, or getting to spend time with the former rockstar who owns the company.”
Nick grunts. “Derek Kingston’s a decent guy. Unfortunately, he’s still carrying around a lot of his rockstar ego. But who could blame him? That kind of lifestyle leaves a mark.”
“You know him?”
