“That’s true. I’ve never really been around babies. My family was so small. And, well, modeling and lounge singing aren’t baby-friendly careers.”
“I’m always tripping over toddlers and trying to save my phone and keys from infants.”
“Your family is really close, huh?”
“Close as you can get. Think I’ve gotten twenty texts just today from various people keeping me updated on shit back home.”
“That’s really sweet.”
“I’m assuming you only had that when you were with your grandmother.”
“Yeah. And I wasn’t there nearly as often as I would have liked. Whenever I went to stay with her, my mother would get sick of working, come back to get me, and start using me for income. There’s a magazine out there somewhere with me modeling a sundress and hat with red-rimmed eyes because I was crying to go back with my grandmother on the way to the shoot.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, reaching for her feet and pressing my thumbs into her soles.
She arched like a cat, a surprised moan escaping her.
“Heels,” I said, shaking my head. “Dunno how you wear them.”
“Because they make our asses look really good.”
“Baby, you don’t need heels to make your ass look good.”
“I didn’t say you could stop,” she said, shooting me narrowed eyes when I paused.
So I massaged her feet, then her calves, watching her whole body relax inch by inch as the moments passed.
My fingers had just slipped under her robe, touching her thighs, when the damn room service knock came.
It was probably for the best anyway.
The last thing I wanted was to have things start getting heated again only to have a call come in to join the search efforts for Domenico.
“Don’t get your hopes too high. The overnight menu was shit. We have an assortment of flatbreads—spinach Florentine and BBQ chicken.”
We ate while talking more about both our childhoods, both of us seeming to marvel at how different they were. Hers, full of travel and high demands for performance. Mine, full of family and typical kid fun.
We drank more wine.
“I should probably get going,” she said, but made no move to do so.
I reached toward her, pulling until she went up on her knees on the cushion.
“Stay,” I demanded, my thumb gliding across the inside of her wrist.
Her smile was small and soft.
She shifted, sliding to straddle my lap.
“I thought you’d never ask,” she said, sealing her lips to mine.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Roe
His cousin was literally (possibly) missing.
It was the least appropriate time to be climbing on his lap.
