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I laughed, and eased closer until my pencil skirt brushed his trouser leg. Inhaling deeply, I caught the incredible fragrance of his cologne, but that wasn’t the only distracting thing. His dark hair and almost turquoise eyes were striking. Combined with his chiseled features he was, as Dee would say, exceptional.
He brought the menu closer. “What would you like to eat?” he asked.
My face fell as Declan’s words filtered through my mind.You lost some. You’re still a fat spoiled princess.
“I usually don’t eat too much at night,” I said ignoring the lowering of his brows as he stared at me. “Maybe the infamous Waldorf salad, and a Mezze Platter?”
Jonas shook his head. “That’s not enough food for dinner. You’ll eat a proper meal,” he said dryly as he flipped to the entrée section again. Apparently he wasn’t letting this go, and he had invited me to dinner, so I tilted my head and bent to the task of searching the menu again.
Jonas tucked a curl back in my bun and smoothed my hair in place. “Do you like chicken? Turkey? Beef? Fish?” he asked.
My breath hitched.Should I be letting him do that?He just did what he wanted. It unsettled, yet intrigued me. I could feel the heat of his body so close and tried to suppress the shiver that went through me.
My pulse sped up as I timidly pointed to a seafood selection. “I like them all. I love Sea Bass.”
“Good. Grilled Sea Bass and Waldorf salad,” Jonas muttered. Before I could respond, he rose and walked to the phone and ordered a Sea Bass and salad for me and a steak for himself. He also added two deserts, a truffle cheesecake and chocolate cake. When he turned back around he caught my scrunched face and grinned.
“Just in case you’re still hungry.” He winked.
I smirked back at him. Charming and intimidating.
Jonas returned to the couch and sat down facing me. “Let’s get back to where we left off, you grew up in Quincy, completed your Bachelor’s Degree in Anthropology at Boston University, work as a publishing assistant at Arch. But you wish you were working as a cultural researcher or doing some philanthropy project for the disadvantaged.”
My face lit up. “You remember all that?”
“My memory is holding up well,” he said evenly. “How old are you?”
I smirked. “You’re not that much older than me. I’ll be twenty-five in a couple of months.”
“That’s twelve years younger than me.” He titled his head up.
“It’s just a number,” I said. “Doesn’t mean anything.”
Jonas’s mouth curved up. “We are not only different in age, but in circumstance.”
My shoulders dropped. I was still reaching for my dreams, and he had already achieved his. “My parents were different in age and circumstance. My father was twenty years older than my mother.”
“Is that so?” His brow raised. “What did your parents do?”
I licked my lips. “My father was a principal viola player for the Boston Symphony and my mother was a first grade teacher at Marymount.”
“What happened?” he asked. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
I stared at my hands. “They were killed in a drunk driving accident. Well, I don’t necessarily consider drunk driving an accident: the killer chose to drink and drive….” I said bitterly.
His face held warmth and empathy. So much so, I felt tears threaten my eyes. I averted my gaze and attempted to gather my senses.Not now.“It was years ago. I’m fine.”
Jonas frowned. “You have more family?” he asked, clasping my hand.
I swallowed against the lump in my throat as I stared down at his hand holding mine. “No. Can… can we please talk about something else?”
He started rubbing soft circles on the back of it and I would have given everything I had for him not to stop. “We can, if you’d like,” he said.
I shrugged. My mind went completely blank.
“Paul, my son, is a prodigy pianist. He’s at Julliard,” Jonas offered.
“That’s great. My father was a child prodigy in violin and viola. You must be really proud,” I said politely.
