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A few minutes later, she scooted out of the danger in his embrace and pinned on a smile. “I should be getting back. This ravioli business took longer than I expected.”
He curled a hand to the back of her neck and tilted her head up to his. “You’re upset.”
“No, not at all.” It was completely illogical. He was talking about the bloody Beatles and chickens, for heaven’s sake, and now she had the jitters.
Her phone buzzed on the counter and her gaze flew to it on the wings of maternal instinct. At the sight of the number, her heart plummeted to her stomach.No, no, not now.She hit “ignore” and took a fortifying sip of the lovely, robust Barolo Tad had opened a half hour ago.
“I need to go.”
“So you said.” His brows dipped in a chevron as he digested the suddenly weird vibe between them.
The phone buzzed again, cutting loudly through the heavy silence and setting off a flap of panic in her chest.Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or—
“Someone wants to get in touch with you badly.”
She touched the screen. Took a longer slug of the wine. “Just a telemarketer.”
“Answer it and tell them to take you off their list.”
She waved it away. “It’s easier to ignore it.”
The phone screamed again, and this time, Tad grabbed it.
“I’ll get rid of them for you—hello, you’ve reached Sex U Up Productions, how can I help you?”
“Tad, don’t!” She tried to grab the phone, but he arched out of her way. It was a good ten seconds before she wrested it from him and hung up on the tinny voice she knew as well as her own. She turned it off altogether.
Rage thundered in his eyes. With those thick forearms, he caged her against the sink and loomed over her, bristling with barely tethered tension.
“That was him, wasn’t it?”
Whatever he saw in her eyes confirmed his assumption.
“How long have you been talking to him?”
“He called me a couple of weeks ago. The night of the opening.”
Recognition crashed over his face. The night she said she needed him inside her and now the connection between the two was inextricable.
“Why didn’t you tell me he’d been in touch?”
Her throat felt rough and scratchy. “Because I’ve been handling it.”
“How? By ignoring his calls?”
Cowardice was a legitimate strategy, and it had been working for her every time Simon called over the last fortnight. She clamped her lips shut. Cowardly.
Fury had sharpened his features to make him almost unrecognizable from the Tad she knew. “What does he want? Is he trying to get back with you?”
“No—no. He wants to see Evan.”
“After all this time.” His disgust at Simon’s supposedly despicable behavior rolled through her. He held her gaze fiercely, all blue determination, before his face softened. “Lili said you won’t tell Jack anything about him. Talk to me, honey.”
Apparently realizing that his huge, imposing presence in a cross-examining stance might not be especially conducive to a cozy tête-à-tête, he took a couple of steps back and threaded his arms over that blockbuster chest.
Her fingers tensed around the wine glass on the counter. “I wanted him. He didn’t want me. Oldest story in the book.”
Those clipped words were meant to be conversation-ending, but the look on Tad’s face said,ah, ah.
