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“I do make you nervous. Perhaps in sharing a meal, you’ll learn I’m just a man.” With that, he stood, remaining hovering over me. When he bent down, my breath was stolen. “Please relax. Enjoy the music. I’ll return very soon, sweet Cassidy.”
I continued to hold my breath, the pulse ticking in the side of my neck, unable to take my eyes off him as he walked away. Dear God, I was hot and wet, my heartrate skyrocketing. I hadn’t paid any attention to the music before he mentioned it, but the sultry sound of acoustic guitar was a perfect backdrop for seduction.
What are you thinking?
The inner voice continued to filter through my mind, asking one question after another.
And I had no answers.
After he walked in through a set of doors, disappearing from view, I closed my eyes, finally able to breathe a little bit easier. The nerves remained, enough so my stomach was in knots. I couldn’t just sit here, or I’d lose my mind. I stood slowly, my legs still wobbly. With the drink in my hand, I walked around the restaurant. Every adornment seemed hand-picked from the sconces on the wall to the oversized iridescent glass candleholders. Even the creative artistry on the walls added to the intimate, passionate feel of the restaurant.
I was drawn to one wall in particular, dozens of pictures nestled in a particular pattern. There were several celebrities, dignitaries, and other powerful corporate moguls. I recognized almost all of them, including my own father.
While my family had been extremely careful about pictures of the children being shown in public, another trickle of fear skated down my spine. My connection alone was enough to create an enemy. Although it did seem as if he was chummy with Valentin, the only other figure in the picture. Cringing, I walked away, trying to sort through why fate had brought me to this location.
After another two minutes of being alone, I ventured toward the kitchen, slowly opening the door, unable to keep a smile off my face.
Valentin had removed his jacket and tie, unbuttoning his shirt and folding the sleeves past his elbows. That alone added to his sex appeal, but the crème de la crème was the apron he’d tied around his waist. This was a sight I’d never expected to see.
I remained in the doorway, staying as quiet as possible as he worked. He was humming a tune I didn’t recognize, Italian words spoken every few seconds. The sound of his voice shimmied across my skin, awakening every nerve ending.
After grabbing pasta and turning a knob on the stove, he tipped his head in my direction, his nostrils flaring. Once again, I was able to see the dazzling blue of his eyes, so deep they seemed luminescent, his irises flecked in gold. There was something more powerful than anything he’d done about the way he slowly lowered his gaze, his lips pursing. For a few seconds, we were carried away to some incredible location, two people with dark cravings, needs destined to be fulfilled. Then he smiled, beckoning me with a single finger.
And even if I’d wanted to ignore him, it was impossible, the draw too magnetic. I moved closer, easing my drink onto one of the stainless-steel counters, inching even closer. He had a way of undressing me with his eyes that wasn’t repulsive or typical for a man of his stature. It was sensual, alluding to passionate moments of intimacy.
“Can I help?” I asked, doing anything I could to break my hypnotic state.
“Absolutely. Grab an apron,” he suggested, nodding toward a smaller room. Then he resumed his work, chopping garlic and fresh herbs. It was impossible to take my eyes off him, the act so sexy I had difficulty tying the apron. Then I moved to the sink, washing my hands, continuing to fight my nerves.
When I moved beside him, he pushed the shrimp in my direction. “Should I peel them?”
“Definitely.”
There was nothing fancy about what he was preparing, but as we worked alongside each other, the tension eased. He was enjoying making a delicious meal for a stranger he’d been forced to kill for, and it was about the most indelible moment that I’d ever experienced.
After wiping his hands on his apron, he tossed the pasta in the water, moving away to grab a utensil. The move pushed his body against mine and for a few seconds, breathing became impossible, the feel of his hot breath and the electricity coursing through both of us igniting several embers.
I continued peeling the shrimp, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. When I was finished, I pushed them closer to his cutting board, my finger inadvertently touching his. Now I was strangled, a single subtle whimper escaping.
He said nothing. Neither did I, but the connection continued to grow. I was insane.
Leave. Run. Hide.
That wasn’t going to happen. I wanted to experience something passionate and beautiful if for only once in my life.
Even if it was only enjoying dinner with a dangerous man.
“Plates are right there,” Valentin said, pointing toward a stack located above another preparation center.
I grabbed two, almost laughing from the way my hands were shaking. After placing them close to him, my inner resolve screamed that I shouldn’t stand too close, but the butterflies in my stomach indicated something else.
He tossed the shrimp in the pan, rolling the surface on the gas then flipping the seafood in the air. The man was comfortable in the environment, obviously accustomed to cooking. A part of me wanted to ask who he had the pleasure of preparing gourmet meals for.
The quiet between us was dangerously seductive, the air hot and humid. I took scattered breaths, reaching for my drink more than once. I could tell his gaze was never far from observing what I was doing. After placing the cooked shrimp into a bowl, he wiped his hands on his apron, moving slowly and grabbing a fork from one of the drawers.
“Would you like a taste?” he asked, but I could swear his voice was like a panther’s growl.
“I’d love one.”
