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“I'm taking a break,” he snapped at Laurent who had been too busy flirting with one of the scarier big-hairs to notice Cara’s flip off the rails. Crashing through the kitchen doors, he bumped into that other infuriating DeLuca. Lili.
He frowned, then frowned harder at the way his heart boosted at the sight of her. “What are you doing here?”
“I work here.” She tilted her head, taking in his fierce scowl. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Of course she was killing him in hip-hugging jeans and a wispy excuse for a top that barely contained her everything.
“Okay,” she dragged out. She peeked around his shoulder through the window panel into the kitchen. “Is Cara about?”
“No. I expect she's off shouting at someone and making them feel very, very small.”
“I’ve always wondered what a food television producer does.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets for safety and his own sanity. “You sleep okay?”
“Fine. You?”
“Like a baby,” he lied.
“Woke up every two hours, wet?”
“How did you know?” That netted him a raspy laugh and went some way to defrosting his chill. It wasn't far from the truth, either.
“Jack, about last night...”
He held his breath. Nothing good ever started with those words. “I just wanted to say...well, grazie.”
That was a first and it eased a smile from him. “You liked my gelato?”
“Yeah, you give good gelato,” she said, her color rising while her eyelids dipped. He loved that. “How's the prep?”
“Menu's set. Your father breezed in for the beauty shots and then took off, so he must be feeling confident.”
“Beauty shots?”
“The final dishes, perfectly styled. They cut them in during editing.” A thought unfurled in his brain. A brilliant, sparkling thought. “I want to show you something.”
“Sounds promising.”
“You wish.” He took her slender-fingered hand into his. Zing. Every bloody time.
Through the devilishly thin material of her top, her nipples poked through, all hard and pouty. And now his dick felt all hard and pouty. Wonderful.
“Let's get out of here for a while.”
A nose wrinkle preceded a furtive look over her shoulder. “I really should find Cara. I said I'd help.”
Further along the hallway, a door banged open and out thundered Gina closely followed by a bent-out-of-shape Cara. Both were far too involved in their drama to notice anyone else.
“Cara, I'm not taking it off,” Gina said, puffing out her ample chest. It strained against a sparkly, pink t-shirt adorned with the words ‘Team Fat Chick’.
“You cannot wear it,” Cara countered emphatically. “We need to show the restaurant in the most professional light possible. This is too important.”
“Oh, no,” Lili murmured. She took a step forward, with the clear intention of doing what she did best—smooth and fix. His hand tightened around hers and willed her still.
Gina jutted her chin to match her chest. “Oh my God, Cara, you’re such a spoilsport. Even when we were kids, you always had to be the queen freaking bee. We just want everyone to know they can't mess with the DeLucas.” She flounced off to the front of the house to Cara barking her name.
Taking it as a sign that the gods were finally working in his favor, Jack nodded toward the kitchen and whispered, “How about the great escape alley-style?”
