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Mimicking his finger position on the onion, she started slicing slowly, careful not to cut into the root. Her usual method of chopping an onion—of chopping any vegetable—had always been haphazard. She got frustrated easily and until now, she hadn’t wanted to take the time to learn even when it would have saved her countless hours in the long run. Really, she didn’t want to ask Jack to teach her because he would see her interest and start expecting things. As a perpetual disappointment to him, she had no desire to set herself up for more failure. Better to stay under the radar.
But with Tad, she didn’t want to hide the passion she felt for creating something. Tad wouldn’t expect anything of her. Tad would just be…Tad.
She couldn’t be sure when exactly it had happened, but she had a sudden wash of his body heat as he leaned in closer to her, his eyes never leaving her hands. Wow, she wished he had that intensity when he looked at her face.
“Make sure you keep your middle finger out front.” Her finger slipped—oops—and he moved behind her. She shouldn’t have done that but she couldn’t help herself. And her wicked scheme bore immediate fruit.
“Here. Let me show you.”
Oh, yes. So she might have played him there.
The kitchen was suddenly very, very snug. Gently, he cupped his big, warm hand over hers. His fingers shaped hers to his liking while his body shaped hers from behind. Strong, hard chest to her tense, rigid back. His breath, hot and sweet, flushed her neck. The urge to relax into his strength almost undid her.
“Now, slice.”
She started a tentative chop across the flesh—she couldn’t get that word out of her head now—and let him guide her fingers back as the knife inched closer. In her ear, he made a rumbling sound of approval she felt right to the juncture of her thighs.
“Good girl,” he whispered. “Now turn.”
Her body twisted and because he stayed in position, her hip brushed the top of his hard thigh. His very hard thigh.
“The onion,” he said, amusement warming his voice.
Oh wow, his forearms. Her dream forearms! They hemmed her in on either side, tanned and coated in crisp, dark hair. Delicious, muscle-corded, Italian forearms that would look so good against her pale, English rose skin. A very illicit thought of their limbs entwined—why not break this fantasy out to legs as well?—and moving in torturous unison against cool, cotton sheets staged a coup in her fogged brain. His dark skin would be gleaming with sweat because she would be giving him a fine, fine workout.
Tad turned the onion. Apparently her brain was far too full with dirty fantasies to send a message to her hand.
“Oh, of course,” she said, the words spilling out in a nervy rattle. Was it her imagination or had he moved closer to her? Sweat trickled through every nook and cranny of her heat-saturated body.
Say something.Anything.“You must be looking forward to the opening. Your parents would be so happy to see it.”
His body stiffened behind her. “I don’t know about that. This isn’t really what they had in mind.”
“Why?”
“My father wanted a lawyer or a doctor. Someone he could be proud of.”
The pain in those words made her heartsick. How could anyone not be proud of this man who was always there for his family? For her?
She longed to turn into his arms and soothe him as he had done for her so many times. See if she could be a friend without getting all grabby. Just as she came to that conclusion, he spoke again.
“Vivi would have liked you.”
Her breath caught. “How do you know?”
“Because you’re stubborn, you’re brave, and you never give up. She was a great admirer of doggedness. Of people who went after what they wanted no matter the odds.”
Her vision blurred and that earlier urge to lean back against his strong chest finally overwhelmed her. He snaked a gloriously thick arm around her waist and pulled her close. Held her for a few precious moments.
“There are times I think you don’t realize how amazing you are. How great a mom you are and how you’re going to find your place. Just you wait.”
He brushed his soft lips against her temple. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move.
It’s always been you, Tad DeLuca.From the beginning, his faith in her had been nothing but steadfast.
“Jules.” He turned her to face him and tipped her chin up when she refused to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a big Italian jerk. All that ridiculous stuff about trying to protect you.”
“Is that what you were doing yesterday in Starbucks when you muscled in on my coffee date?”
