“I believe in you,” he said slowly. “Don’t disappoint me.”
Jett Mayfield was huge and he believed in my skills. For a moment I just stared at him, unable to utter the two words I desperately wanted to communicate.
Thank you.
The air charged between us. My gaze lowered to his open lips, so close to mine, and moisture gathered between my legs, soaking the sheer material of my panties. Clearing his throat, Jett stood and returned to his seat, but not fast enough to hide his own shallow breath and the lust in his eyes. He wasn’t as unaffected as he pretended to be. A sense of pride and victory grabbed hold of my heart. I crossed my arms over my chest, amused.
“Lunch should be waiting for you in the kitchen,” he said coolly, avoiding my gaze. “I’ll be in Malpesa for the rest of the day.”
“Why?” The word slipped out before I could stop myself. His gaze shot up, brows raised.
“Meeting with a client.”
“There’s nothing on your schedule.”
He leaned back in his chair and regarded me for a few seconds. “Not everything’s noted in my schedule, Brooke. Like our little stroll this morning. Do you think the Lucazzone household had an enjoyable view?” A devilish grin lit up his face, sending me into yet another blushing frenzy.
“What? You said—” I stumbled over my words, not able to finish the sentence.
“No. I said no one is living there...literally, on the shoreline. I didn’t say no one is living inside the house.” His grin widened. My cheeks caught fire from yet another wave of sheer mortification.
Dammit, the ball was in his court again.
I had just lost another battle.
“Do you think anyone saw us?” I whispered.
He shrugged. “Does it matter?”
It did because I wasn’t the kind who had sex in a public place where everyone could gawk at me.
“Relax, Brooke,” Jett said softly. “The house’s been standing empty for months.” His finger brushed my flaming cheek. “But you liked the danger of being caught, didn’t you?”
I nodded even though it wasn’t just the chance of being caught that had made my blood boil.
“Good, because there are so many other things I plan to do with you,” he whispered in that deep, sexy voice layered with intrigue.
My breath hitched. Oh, I definitely couldn’t wait.
The phone rang, interrupting our moment. Jett groaned and turned to check the caller ID.
“Fuck!” Letting go of me, he grabbed the phone and pressed his hand against the microphone. His dusky eyes were on me, leaving no doubt his words were meant for my ears only. “I want you so badly but, unfortunately, work’s calling.” His mouth moved to mine in a quick but heated kiss, and then he was back in his no-nonsense work mojo.
“Mayfield,” he said into his phone. His voice was hard and determined, showing none of the passion I could sure as hell still feel rushing through my veins.
Straightening my back, I mustered all my poise and forced myself to walk out of the room slowly, minding each step so I wouldn’t trip over my own two feet.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
As Jett had announced, lunch was waiting for me in the kitchen. I lifted the lid off the serving plate and inhaled the aroma of some Italian pasta and meat dish I had never tried before. It smelled deliciously of herbs and fresh tomatoes. My stomach rumbled in response, reminding me that it was already well past lunchtime, and I hadn’t eaten since last night. With the Lucazzone file still clutched to my chest, I grabbed my plate and sat down at the expensive mahogany table overlooking the lake. From up here, I had a grand view over the entire east side. Unlike the day we arrived, the lake seemed to have attracted visitors. I couldn’t see as far as the shore, but I could make out the colorful flagpoles of two private boats sailing at a leisurely speed. According to Jett, most of the lake was privately owned, which led me to believe the owners had decided to fly over for a quick spring trip.
Popping a spoonful of delicious pasta into my mouth, I wondered what it must be like to be as rich as these people, and not have to worry about paying the bills or putting food on the table. Even when my mother lost my father and had to make end’s meet by taking a minimum wage job stocking shelves in a local supermarket, I never felt like I lacked anything. But being with Jett in a villa that probably cost more than I’d make in a lifetime, I couldn’t help but feel out of place.
I worked for him but wasn’t part of his world. And I harbored no false hope that I’d ever be.
You don’t want him, Stewart. So get those ‘what ifs’ out of your damn system.
“Damn straight,” I mumbled, opening the Lucazzone file. To my surprise, it wasn’t the same one Jett had left on my desk this morning. I finished my lunch quickly so I could engross myself in Mayfield’s strange work ethic. By the time I leaned back in my chair, I couldn’t help but admire his dedication.