“Oh, aren’t you a sweetie?” The woman scratched Zombie’s ears and the dog’s happy sigh was loud enough for Gunnar to hear.
Now that he had confirmation that she wasn’t packing weapons, Gunnar allowed himself to relax a little. Zombie would have alerted if he’d picked up on any concerns. “She’s clear.” He used his hands to tell Remi silently. His brother nodded and tapped a text message into his phone. Almost immediately an obnoxious beep-beep sounded at the other side of the room. Talon turned on his chair and frowned at Zombie. Gunnar saw the slight tug he gave on the dog’s leash before Zombie returned to his spot under the table.
“Good evening.” Marco greeted the woman with a warm smile and a wink. “Welcome to Ristorante Enoteca Il Toscano. I am Marco. You are Jorja Buchanan, yes?” He placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her forward. “Let me show you to your table.”
Gunnar clenched his hands into fists when the woman bestowed a smile on Marco. If that asshole went in for the kisses on each of her cheeks, he was going to murder him on the spot.
“Why the fuck do you sound like Zombie when he’s got a bone and doesn’t want to share his dinner?” Remi whispered.
“What?”
“You’re growling, bro.”
He forced the sound coming out of his mouth to stop and glared at Remi. “I am not.”
“Yes, bro, you are.”
Sometimes having brothers sucked. Maybe his momma wouldn’t mind if he tossed Remi in the ocean with his hands and feet zip-tied. Gunnar decided his mom probably would mind, and watched the woman who was looking for him,trying to not make it obvious. As Marco pushed her chair in and spoke to her, Gunnar fought against the weird as fuck urge to beat the shit out of his friend. Time screeched to a halt when the woman glanced at him and their gazes met.
What the hell am I doing? Focus, damn it.She’s a threat, not someone to…
His dick rose to half-mast at the vision which taunted him behind his eyelids when he closed his eyes to break the connection which if he hadn’t been sitting down would have knocked him on his ass. This could not be Jorja Buchanan. Even though he knew it was, the photos matched. She had already confirmed. Still, he wouldn’t allow his attraction to her to get in his way. She was looking for him. For the Four X’s. That was not something he would take lightly. He tried not to make it obvious that he was studying her as she chatted to Marco. But she obviously felt the connection as her eyes darted toward him multiple times. Either she knew who he was or…
Fuckballs!
CHAPTER FIVE
Jorja shiveredat the heat in the gaze of the tall man sitting a couple of tables down. All the books she’d read mentioned how it felt to be undressed by someone’s gaze. Until right this second, she’d never been able to understand what those words had meant. Now she did.
Holy hotness, Momma. Why haven’t I been to Italy before if these men are examples of what Italy has to offer?
“Ma’am?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” The man’s questioning tone meant she’d missed something while she’d been enthralled by the sexy Adonis in the corner. “I?—”
Marco, who she was assuming was the owner, or at least worked here, grinned at her as if he could read her mind. “I was telling you that we do not have a menu tonight.”
“Are you closed?” The hotel had booked her a table. Why on earth would they have sent her here if the place was closed and why was she sitting at a table? She scooted her chair back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t?—”
“No, no.” Marco gestured with both hands. “I have friends visiting, and thought you might like to have some delicatesand local specialties from our area,” he clarified. “Will you try what our chef prepares for you?”
“Um, yes.” She was starving and would eat a full-grown cow if they put it in front of her. “Is this like in the movies, where the restaurant is a front for the Mafia?” The words were out of her mouth. This was the problem with spending so much time alone. She’d gotten used to saying her thoughts out loud rather than keeping them to herself. She closed her eyes briefly when he snorted with laughter. “I’m sorry, that was rude of me.”
“No, no,” Marco chortled. “My nonno will be, how is it you Americans say it, tickled? This is the word, no? Tickled that you think we are La Familia.”
Nice one, Jorja. Insult the man before they serve you food!
“I promise I am not insulted,” Marco reassured her. “Will you try the food we have prepared?”
“I’d love to. Thank you.” There wasn’t a snowflake’s chance in the fire that she was refusing. She’d already managed to stuff one of her size eight flats into her mouth, she didn’t need to add the second one in too.
“It is done.” Marco clapped his hands together. “Are you allergic to anything, and would you like some wine?”
I’d love some. But my mouth is already tripping all by itself, so I better not.
“I’m not allergic to anything,” she told him. “And could I please have some sparkling water instead of wine, if that’s okay?”
“Of course, it is.” Marco turned away. “I shall be back.”
