“What did you bring?” Evan asked, still holding on to Brent.
Her husband turned pink, adorably. “A contribution to dessert.”
Evan’s hand squeezed tight on his shoulder. “Great. Thanks. Come on in.”
They followed him through his house—a gorgeous, modern build with all the comforts his wealth allowed—to the open-concept kitchen. On the far side of the room, oversized glass sliding doors were open to the deck outside.
“Wine? Jess, do you want white?”
Brent gave her a quick half-smile, sayinghe knows you well, and she nodded.
“Brent? How about you?”
“Wine’s good. I’d take a beer if you have that.”
“I’ve got it all. I raided the catering stores earlier today.” Evan gestured at the grill out on the deck. “I’m cooking the mains, but everything else was pilfered, full disclosure.”
“What did you get?”
“There’s a wedding at the winery tonight, with a buffet dinner, so I snagged us some cold salads. Orzo with Greek dressing and some veggies and feta, a lemon-y chickpea salad, and a great potato salad with bacon in it.”
“Yum.” Jess accepted the glass of wine he handed her.
“And for the grill, I have steak, chicken, and salmon, plus some asparagus.” Evan stopped in front of the double-wide fridge. “Lager?”
“Whatever you’ve got, thanks.” Brent circled around the oversized island on the middle of the kitchen and took the bottle of beer from Evan.
Jess watched their fingers connect and linger, and a hungry need pulled low in her belly.
“Glass?”
“I’m good with the bottle.”
Evan nodded, holding Brent’s gaze, and Jess thought she might combust right there on the spot.Kiss for me, she wanted to say, but she held it in.
Evan would know when it was time. She was sure of that.
And right now, he was busy being the sexiest host ever. He took their food orders—chicken for Brent, steak for her and himself—and then encouraged them to come hang out on his deck while he cooked.
His property wasn’t that far from the winery. In the distance, she could just see the strip of land he’d wanted to develop, but the town had blocked him. They hadn’t discussed it recently, and she made a mental note to bring it up again soon.
Not tonight, though.
Tonight was strictly pleasure.
Their conversation roamed freely from highway construction—“It’s only going to get worse as we move into the height of summer”—to movies, because Evan liked to go to the Toronto International Film Festival each year—“It’s my only vacation, and it’s still kind of work related. We’re sponsors.”—to how important real vacations were.
“Except we’re all workaholics,” Jess laughed. “Definitely a do-what-we-say, not-what-we-do thing.”
“When was the last vacation you took?” Evan asked as he topped up her glass, then his own.
She slid a glance at Brent. He cleared his throat. “Vegas, I guess.”
Yeah.
A pregnant pause stretched between them.
Evan waited.
