A knocking reached into the foggy recesses of my brain, and I jumped away from Frisco, breathing heavily. He too looked a hairbreadth away from exploding—those blue eyes glittered like sapphires, his mouth gleamed red and wet, and the outline of his rigid dick strained through his briefs.
“Who’s that?” he asked hoarsely.
I licked my lips, and his blue eyes darkened. “I don’t know.”
He braced his hands on the island. “Give me a second.” He turned away.
“You should probably go into the bedroom and grab a pair of sweats. I have some in the bottom drawer of my dresser.”
Throwing me a grateful look, Frisco disappeared, and I smoothed back my hair and went to answer the door. I cursed under my breath when I saw Mike’s face in the window, but he spun his fingers around and around until I opened the door.
“What’s up?”
He bounced inside like Tigger on a quadruple shot of espresso. “Dude.Duuuuude.I got news. Like capital N-E-W-S.”
“What?”
“I opened my email this morning and clicked on the digital magazine ofUltimate NYCand-and…” He stuttered, something he hadn’t done since fourth grade.
“Chill out, Mikey, take a second.”
Regaining control, he braced his hands on the island and drew in a deep breath, then exhaled. “No, you don’t understand. It’s the most unbelievable thing, and I never thought it would happen, but we’re there. We made it.”
“Who, where?” I was so fucking lost.
“Mangia. We made it intoUltimate NYC, and it was a fuckingawesomereview.” By the time Mike finished, he was shouting.
My mouth fell open. Damn, Edward had come through. And quickly. I wondered if he’d discovered my connection, but I couldn’t see how. I’d covered my tracks well. At home, to my family and friends, I was Torre Rossi. To keep myself as separate from my family’s business as possible and to avoid any favoritism charges, in the business world I was known as Salvatore Grant. Salvatore was my given name, and Grant was my mother’s maiden one.
“You’re kidding.”
“Would I kid you? It’s a fucking bowl of awesome sauce. Check it out.”
He pulled out his phone and hit the screen. While it was loading, I heard footsteps.
Shit.I’d forgotten about Frisco. I shot a glance across the room to the hallway leading to the bedroom. Fully dressed now in my gray sweat pants, Frisco leaned against the wall, arms folded. Waiting.
My brother forgotten, I stared at Frisco. Was there anything sexier than a man with bedroom eyes, bed head, and every bulge and ripple on display? He left me weak in the knees, and from the tiny smile that came and went in the blink of an eye, he saw right through me.
I didn’t care. I wanted his hands on me and his tongue in my mouth. I wanted my brother to leave.
“Hello. Oh.Ohh.” A grin spread over Mike’s face, and I hated how my cheeks warmed, as if I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t. “Torre, man. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.” Mike, the bastard, looked anything but sorry.
“It’s fine.”
Recognition gleamed in Mike’s eyes as Frisco walked into the room. “Hey, I remember you.”
A wary expression rested on Frisco’s suddenly taut face. “Do you?” A muscle ticked in his cheek, and his eyes narrowed to blue chips of ice. I wondered at his strange reaction.
“Yeah. From last week. You came into Mangia. Ordered the branzino and the ravioli. You had an awesome Burberry coat.”
The tension uncoiled from his shoulders, and he chuckled. “You remember my coat?”
“It’s my wife’s influence. She loves all that designer shit, and now I’m forced to notice it.” His gaze shifted between Frisco and me. “So. You guys…seeingeach other? I didn’t know.”
I grimaced at his obvious emphasis. “Mike, didn’t you have something to show me? That amazing review?” I prodded him.
His eyes lit up. “Yeah, shit. I almost forgot. Check it out.” He thrust the phone in my hand, and I winced when I read the byline.
