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My heart thuds in my chest as I quietly shut her door before she notices me. Okay, that didn’t go as planned. I definitely jumped the gun.
I return to my room, and a moment later, my phone chimes with an incoming message.
Layla: Sorry. I was in the shower. Didn’t see your message. You ready to go down to dinner? I’ll be dressed in a sec.
Jason: Sure. Come get me when you’re ready.
As I sit on the sofa in my room and wait for her, I try not to think about those curves I just saw. It was inappropriate as hell for me to walk in on her. While I’m trying to come up with a better way to handle a situation like that in the future, I hear a knock at my door. “Come in.”
The door opens, and Layla steps inside. “Ready?”
My breath catches.
Holy crap.
I thought she was gorgeous before, but now she’s stunning. It’s her eyes. She’s got a bit of eye make-up on, not a lot, just subtle shadows and eyeliner framing her large dark eyes, making them utterly mesmerizing. Her lips are pinker, glossier. And her hair—she put part of it up in a high ponytail, and left part of it down. She’s wearing a dark purple tunic dress that hugs her curves, black leggings, and short black boots.
“Wow.” The word slips out before I can engage a filter.
As she smiles, color blooms in her soft cheeks. “Thanks.”
Then I attempt to do some damage control. “I mean… you clean up well.” I glance down at my faded jeans and T-shirt. “Do I need to change for dinner? Am I underdressed? Maybe I should put on a velvet dinner jacket.”
She laughs. “No. Dinners are informal. It’s come as you are. You’re fine.”
I pretend to be relieved. “Good, because I left my formalwear back at my apartment.” Actually, I don’t even own a decent suit. I have an old one that dates back to high school, but I doubt it fits me anymore. I’m a hell of a lot more muscular now than I was then.
As we head for the stairs, I calculate how long it’s been since she last ate—she had a snack right before we left the hospital at two-thirty. I pull out my phone and quickly check her blood sugar level. It’s a bit low, but nothing crazy. It’s definitely time for her to eat something. I’m not used to monitoring eating times so carefully; this will take some getting used to.
I walk with her down the carpeted steps to the foyer, with its black-and-white checkerboard floor.
Too rich for my blood.
Layla was raised in this house, and she takes it all in stride. “The family dining room is this way,” she says, pointing back toward the kitchen.
Just as we reach the dining room, Ian and Tyler come into view, heading toward us. They must have come in through the kitchen.
“Ian!” Layla runs into her brother’s waiting arms.
He wraps her carefully in his arms. “Hey, sis. How’re you doing?”
“Fine,” she says with a heartfelt sigh. “I’m glad to be home. And I’m even happier now that you’re here. You, too, Tyler.”
When Ian releases his sister so that Tyler can hug her, he looks to me for confirmation.
I nod.So far, so good.
Chapter 9
Jason Miller
My idea of informal dining is eating while sitting on the sofa with my feet up on the coffee table, watching TV. That’s not the case here. At the center of the family dining room is an antique cherry table that seats six. Martin Alexander is seated at the far end of the table, his wife at the other end. Ian and Tyler are just now taking the two chairs on one side of the table, leaving the other two chairs for me and Layla. I pull Layla’s seat out for her, and she sits.
A moment later, Claire enters through a side door, pushing a cart laden with salad plates, a basket of rolls, and a large pitcher of ice water. While she dishes out the salads, conversation flows around the table. Mostly, everyone’s interested in how Layla’s doing.
After the salads, comes the main course—roasted chicken breasts, tiny steamed potatoes, and grilled asparagus in some kind of cream sauce. My idea of a nice dinner is going out for hot wings with the guys after a job, or staying in, watching baseball, and ordering pizza. This is way out of my league.
Claire asks us what we want to drink. Layla’s parents, Ian, and Tyler all opt for red wine. Layla is automatically given a bottle of sparkling water that might have been imported from Italy, as the label is written in Italian and it’s one I don’t recognize.
