“I hope you like barbecue,” he said.
“Who doesn’t?”
“Meet you in the kitchen in ten?”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see it because he had turned his back on me, his phone glued to his ear.
***
As I entered the kitchen, the grill was already set up and covered with a steel lid. Jett lifted it to reveal two servings of ribs the size of Alabama. The aroma of meat and grilled vegetables made my stomach rumble and mellowed out my annoyance. Maybe he didn’t take me up on the offer because he didn’t want to burn dinner?
His loss, right?
I shrugged and forced myself not to roll my eyes again like a petulant child.
“Your business meeting didn’t go so well,” I started, ready to steer the conversation onto known terrain. After all, he was my boss and we were supposed to discuss things that affected the company.
Jett smirked. “How could you tell?”
“By the way you slammed the door.”
“Sorry about that.”
“No worries.”
I watched him as he piled up two plates in silence and headed out the balcony door into the backyard. I took the red wine bottle and two empty wine glasses, then followed him out.
The air was warm and thick with the aroma of wood and flowers in bloom. The garden table and chairs were situated just around the corner where the light from the kitchen barely penetrated the darkness. Jett had already lit up what looked like a huge golden lantern that shed a soft glow on the white porcelain and tablecloth. The lit tea candles arranged in a zigzag pattern flickered in the soft breeze and cast moving shadows across the whitewashed wall.
The whole atmosphere was chic yet relaxed, not too romantic but not casual either. Where I came from, we never lit candles unless we celebrated a birthday, or someone had died.
Placing the wine bottle and glasses on the table next to a set of cutlery and the two plates, I sat down on the chair opposite from Jett. My gaze shifted around, looking at anything but him.
“Are you cold? If you are, I can bring you a sweater or we can eat inside.” The concern in his voice made me peer up in surprise.
“I’m fine.”
He regarded me for a moment, as though not quite believing me. The candlelight reflected in his eyes and made them shimmer like gemstones. In the soft light, his skin had a golden glow to it and his stubble was more pronounced, giving him a dark and menacing flair. I had never liked stubble on a man, but I found it sexy on him. It suited his character—rough but at the same time soft, strange but also familiar. He looks so yummy, I wanted to bury myself in his strong arms. I ignored the urge to lean over the table and draw his face to mine to feel the scratchy sensation on my skin.
“Wine?” His voice broke the silence, jerking me out of my thoughts.
I smiled hesitantly and reached for the half-full glass.
“To us,” Jett said, chinking our glasses, his gaze never leaving mine.
Swallowing hard, I nodded because something in his tone—maybe the slightest hint of a promise—ignited a raging fire in me.
I took a sip of the delicious wine, then another, to calm my suddenly racing heart. It didn’t really help, so I focused on the contents of my plate, all the while keeping the conversation light and casual.
“Did you find anything in the Lucazzone file?” he asked me, handing me a basket of bread as I tucked into my spare ribs.
I shook my head and finished chewing before answering. “No, but there’s something I meant to ask you. How many times have you and your lawyers looked through it?”
He shrugged, signaling that either he didn’t care or he couldn’t be bothered counting.
“Exactly,” I mumbled under my breath.
He gave me a strange look. “I brought it so you could take a look at it. I thought getting a fresh opinion wouldn’t hurt.”
“Look, I—” I put my cutlery down and hesitated as I prepared my words carefully so he wouldn’t think I was lecturing him. We might share sizzling sexual chemistry, but Jett was still my boss. As most of them come, they tend to have an oversized ego and an unwillingness to take ‘no’ or ‘not possible’ for an answer. “I can see the potential of this estate, but with the taxes and everything else in order, there’s no way you’ll get it unless the old man sells or you turn him in.”
Jett’s gaze darkened and his jaw set. “Your second option is a no go.”
“Why?”
“Because.” He drew a sharp breath and averted his gaze.
“Why?” I prompted, leaning forward.
“Who would want to buy a holiday home built on a murderer’s estate?” His words made sense and yet…