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It was the best crispy baked chicken breast with creamy leek and thyme sauce I’d ever had. Being reminded of it had me thumbing the plate for the last time.
“Exquisite,” I commented with lackluster inspiration because of the headspace Jas had put me in by telling me he was a damn nut case with the best dick on the planet. Apparently, a financially stable one, too. “I’ve gotta look up the recipe.”
I saw when the two men’s eyes met and lit up.
“We can arrange a printout before you leave,” the waiter, John, offered with a head bow. A tall and thick man of Asian descent with Western swag. “In the meantime, are you ready to look at the dessert menu…” He hesitated. “…or should I bring the cigar options?”
My attention raced to Jas, who took his time returning my regard. “Cigars?” I knew the wine would be superb, seeing we were on the vineyard of one of my favorite brands. But cigars?
Calmly, Jas snorted, sitting up in his seat. “Witherspoon, theChâteau Blevinestate not only houses the vineyard and winery, but it hosts a brand of cigars I believe tickles ya fancy.”
“Por el Amor del Amor?” I asked Jas, shocked beyond life.
“That would be the one. We have a torcedor ready for you up in the roller room.” John pointed to the second level. “I can bring out the menu for you to decide which you would like. You can watch the roller at work or he can have it ready for you.”
I was speechless, gaping at Jas like a complete idiot. I didn’t know what to say or do as two other waiters appeared, clearing the table.
“John, just bring out both menus. She’ll decide when she’s ready.”
“Indeed, Mr. Jas, sir.” He gave a neck bow again before grabbing the salt and pepper tray from our table.
“Say something, Witherspoon,” Jas urged in the deepest tenor.
My brain tripped when he brought his elbows and hands together over the table, leaning his head against it. The balls of his biceps looked Herculean, but his body language and energy read tender and vulnerable. I couldn’t do this. I wouldn’t be that woman turned on by raw, broken, uncouth, illegal-prone, brusque, ill-articulate, culture-lacking street men.
No…
But when his big hand reached across the table and planted its heaviness on mine, stroking my knuckles, I knew Jas met few of those adjectives. He wasn’t broken, lacking compassion, uncouth, aggressive, ill-articulate, callous, or a hoodlum. He was…
Jas.
“You’ve said a lot,” I murmured, finally finding my voice.
“Don’t make me regret it. Please.”
After a long pause and me staring into his eyes, I could see the vault had been cracked, but not fully opened, I felt compelled to jeer, “I feel like if I don’t, Noelle would probably try to beat my ass. She’s in love with you, you know.”
Jas’ eyes rolled and closed. “I’m so sick of females being in love with me, Witherspoon,” he groaned and I didn’t like the way my needy body reacted to his vulnerability. Jas seemed to be in agony. “Everybody loves Jas, except for the right one.”His wife. Jas’ eyes flashed open. “And you.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” I playfully rolled my eyes and sat back in my chair, crossing my legs and arms. My foot bounced, vibrating my entire body. “I made sense of how you know Azmir. But you still haven’t explained how you ownRizzo’s Custom Homes.” Then I thought wiser and amended, “Not that you owe me any of this. I’m just so confused.”
“I understand.” He straightened from over the table, too, long arm retracting. “Remember, the calculated category?” I nodded. “That’s ‘consistent’ with my past behaviors. Back in the day, I did a job—I can’t and won’t get into details about—that involved Paulie Rizzo. He had a need and I was a fixer. We bartered a deal and my payment request was his business.”
I sucked in a heap of air. “That must’ve been one hell of a job! Is Rizzo in the mob?”
Jas chuckled. With his eyes locked on me, he shook his head. “Not that I know of. You gotta understand, Witherspoon: there’s a whole dark world operating beneath legitimate business.”
“IsRizzo’s Custom Homesa shady firm? Is it a front for an illegal trade?”
Again, he shook his head. “There’s nothing nefarious or immoral happening atRizzo’s Custom Homes…other than the laziness from some older trades that cost us in delays. It’s a clean, legally functioning business. Witherspoon, I don’t operate illegally anymore. I haven’t since getting locked up.”
“So, all the time you were in prison, Rizzo didn’t renege?”
“Right,” he murmured. “We were legally bonded before I turned myself in.”
“How?”
Jas shrugged. “My lawyers.”
