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She’d seen the den in passing on her first day here, when he had given her his tour of the house, but she had never spent time there. There was something about the idea of going to that part of the house that felt a little more intimate than anything they had done here so far.
Again, her subconscious gave her a little warning. If she really wanted to keep things professional, maybe it would be best to stay in the office.
But Adriano was already getting to his feet and gathering his papers, and now he was walking past her out into the foyer. It was too late. She couldn’t call him back and tell him she didn’t want to go to the den without raising questions—he would want to know what the problem was, and that wasn’t something she was prepared to answer. What could she say—I’m afraid I won’t be able to resist touching you if we’re not in an explicitly professional setting?
The idea of letting those words escape into the air was humiliating. She couldn’t do it.
She was in control of herself. There was no reason the two of them couldn’t sit in the den together and have a conversation.
He got his plate from the kitchen while she waited, and then she followed him down the hall to the den. It was the kind of place that somehow managed to look intensely comfortable and unlived-in at the same time—thick white carpet that was as clean as if it had been installed yesterday, a plush couch with none of the dents or misshapen cushions that came from being sat on frequently, no chips or rings on any of the wooden furnishings. Walking into the room made her nervous—what if she damaged something in this pristine environment?
Adriano didn’t seem concerned about it. He sat down on the couch, holding his plate in one hand and not looking as if olive oil dripping onto his white rug or leather couch were anything to be worried about.
There was no way Amy would be able to relax and enjoy her meal in here. She put the plate down on the coffee table and sat down beside Adriano—she would eat later.
If he noticed her discomfort, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he handed her the folder he had been carrying. “Take a look,” he said. “I went through a local surrogacy agency—it looks like there are a lot of good options, and all the women here are available right away.”
Amy nodded and flipped the folder open.
She was looking at detailed profiles of about twenty different women. “It’s amazing that so many local people are available so quickly.”
“I spread out the radius a little to get a good number,” he said. “If I decide to go with someone a little farther out, I can always pay to bring her here and provide accommodation during her pregnancy.”
Amy nodded. She had counseled people who had had to give up on their dreams of starting a family because surrogacy was financially out of reach for them, so it was a little difficult to watch Adriano just throw money at the problem like he did with so many things. But it wasn’t his fault he could afford this.
She pulled a pen out of her pocket and made marks by a couple of the profiles, then handed the folder back to him.
As he reached out to take it, his fingers brushed hers.
It was an innocent touch, but it electrified Amy. She could feel the heat coming off of his skin. Without meaning to, without even thinking about what she was doing, she turned her hand into his touch, almost as if she was offering her palm to him.
And helingered.
He didn’t just take the folder and pull away. He stilled for a moment, and she saw his shoulders rise sharply on an inhale.
He’d felt it too. There had been something between them when they’d touched, something she hadn’t known still existed so powerfully. It seemed that the attraction between them wasn’t just in her mind or her memories—something physical, something outside her control, was still going on.
It scared her a little. Amy withdrew her hand quickly, causing the folder to fall on the couch between the two of them.
She stood up quickly. “The profiles I marked are the ones in which I see things to be concerned about,” she said. “Nothing too serious. One of them had slightly elevated blood pressure—it’s all things like that. So if you see someone you really like on that list, I don’t think it’s a deal breaker by any means. I hope that’s helpful.”
She started toward the door, expecting that he would call her back or demand to know why she was running off in such a hurry.
Adriano didn’t say anything, though.
He must have been every bit as surprised by the connection between the two of them as she was.
CHAPTER15
ADRIANO
“How have you been?” Santino asked.
Adriano took a sip of his coffee. He wasn’t really supposed to be drinking it—caffeine was on the long list of things that his doctors, including Amy, had advised him to avoid. But now that he was taking a break from thinking about Barks-Howard’s to focus on the matter of finding a surrogate instead, he was being a little more lenient with himself about some of those things. He could return to the uptight diet rules when he was ready to start the medication that would treat his condition. For now, he was allowing himself to live life as if things were normal.
“I’ve been all right,” he told his friend. He didn’t get to see Santino that often. Santino owned a fleet of luxury charter yachts and was usually offshore on one of them. They hadn’t met regularly in years. But every now and then, it was good to catch up.
“I heard about your illness,” Santino said. “I’m very sorry about it.”
