Billionaire Daddy and Nanny 1(170)

“You do know how to get to a man’s heart through his stomach. I love Italian and I make my own spaghetti sauce. Don’t let this get around, but I like to dabble from time to time in the kitchen. I get back to my Italian roots. My grandfather gave me the benefit of his expertise. He told me that a man wasn’t a man unless he could cook for his woman. I have used his recipes to get any woman that I fancied to drop their guard.” I did see the reason why some women would find his cooking to be the catalyst to them dropping their underwear on his floor.

“Let’s make that our reward for all the hard work that we are putting into this. I know that you not feeling well, but I really do need your input. I can’t possibly do this alone. I would like to say that I would be able to take on that kind of responsibility, but I don’t know if I have the confidence.” I found the way that he was looking at me a little like I was being put under the microscope. It was almost like he had something on the tip of his tongue.

“That is a wonderful idea, Amanda. I’m already salivating. I know exactly what you’re talking about when you mentioned their ravioli. I admit that it’s one of my guilty pleasures. I don’t know how we haven’t run into each other. I would have remembered you. You are a hard woman to forget.” He sounded sincere, but his body was telling an entirely different tale. Even in his condition, he was still able to rise to the occasion like an unfurled flag inside his pants.

“I only go there for takeout. I’m not that comfortable with eating alone in a restaurant with everybody staring at me. It’s not much better when I sit in front of my television. The only thing that makes it bearable is that I don’t have to contend with the looks of pity.” He was going over the details and this time I was the one that was looking over his shoulder.

We were deep into it and not even the thoughts of impropriety were keeping me from coming up with some ingenious designs. I felt like we really did play off of each other well. If he wasn’t such an ass, then maybe I would have considered a long-term engagement with him.

It was almost quitting time and I did see that he was still dealing with the remnants of the hangover that he had gotten last night. I found myself showing him some mercy by using my thumbs and my fingers to massage some of that tension out of his shoulders. It was not meant to be sexual.

“I’ve no idea when was the last time that somebody gave me a massage. You do have magic fingers. I really don’t know what came over me last night.”

I felt like I was living in two pairs of shoes. The one that I was wearing currently was that of a professional young woman on the cusp of finding her passion. The one that I was afraid of falling into was those 4-inch pumps that accentuated my legs and made me feel ready to give him more than lip service.

“I thought that you needed this.” I actually enjoyed touching him.

My nipples were rubbing up against him. I wanted to give them the attention that they deserved, but I that would only be sending up the smoke signals from between my thighs.

“We have done more than enough. Amanda. Let’s treat ourselves to an Italian dinner on me. I can always claim it as a business supper. We can always come back and pick up where we left off.” His hands were touching mine and I didn’t know what to do. I played it off, going to get my coat and then opening up the door in a reversal of the gentleman role.

“I’m famished and I took the liberty of calling ahead to have our order placed. It should be ready by the time that we arrive. As you know, it is in walking distance and they have a table set up for us in the back.” He followed from behind and my attention to detail wasn’t necessarily limited to what was on my drawings.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” There was nothing that I could say to that.

There was a chill in the air and I pulled my coat closer to my chest. He walked at a good clip, this time opening the door to the restaurant for me and then guiding me to the table in the back. We barely sat down when he ordered a bottle of champagne and had it chilled in a bucket.

“I thought that we decided that we weren’t going to have anything to drink.” I didn’t want a repeat performance of last night, although I really couldn’t get the feel of his hands off of my mind.

“I don’t see any harm in a little bit of the bubbly.” He popped the cork with a flourish, and then poured me half a glass with the foam reaching the top.

“I don’t mind, but I really don’t think that you want to go down that road again. I’m not your mother. I’m not going to tell you what to do. It’s your life.” I took a sip, feeling that it was tickling my nose and then I set it back down to watch for his reaction. I saw the hesitation in his eyes and he overcame that by downing that one glass in one swallow.