“Bad things lived in my brothers, too,” I say quietly. “I’m the youngest of five, and the only daughter. My parents never did anything to rein them in. As I got older, I started to realize they take a certain perverse pride in having raised a pack of hellions. Maybe it’s an Irish thing.”
He grunts softly in response, nodding. I’m not sure what else to say. I don’t like how the atmosphere has changed. We’d been having such a nice day, and I don’t want to dwell on our dark pasts. I reach over and slide my hand over his thigh.
“Hey, since we’re this close to the coast, why don’t we hit one of the beaches and take a walk?” I suggest. “Maybe dip our feet in the water and watch the waves.”
Armani’s gaze is focused ahead of him. I don’t think he hears me at first. But then he smiles, and some of the tension eases.
“I know exactly the place.”
14
CANDI
“So,do you have any tea for me?”
I raise a brow at Juliana as I slip a thin, crisp breadstick from the basket in the center of the table and swipe it through the dish of olive tapenade. “Tea?”
“You know, ‘spill the tea.’ Give me the gossip. Aren’t you up on the lingo these days?”
She’s unusually playful this afternoon. I’d wondered if something was up when she texted out of the blue to see if I could meet her for lunch. Earlier in the week, she’d mentioned her schedule was packed, but obviously something changed.
Armani had to run off to a meeting after our tour of the pressing room, so I’d agreed to meet Jules at Antonio’s, a ritzy little Italian spot near her condo. Jules favors its moody lighting and lobster fra diavolo. She’s also got the manager wrapped around her finger.
“I must be getting rusty on the slang in my advanced age,” I joke.
“Well, what about that cellar?” she prods.
“Oh, that. It’s a no go,” I say. “The place is guarded better than Fort Knox.”
Hoping she buys my lie, I give her an apologetic smile, lift my wine glass, and take a big gulp of the house red.
We’ve got the back room of the restaurant to ourselves, which is usually reserved for anniversaries or private parties, and it’s really nice. We’re in a delicious-smelling little bubble, with the chatter and noise of the other diners blocked out. My plate of creamy tagliatelle with pancetta is still steaming. My stomach growls as I scoop up a bite with my fork.
“My, my,” Juliana teases. “Looks like sharing a bed with that man is making you work up quite the appetite.”
I almost choke on my pasta. “I wouldn’t say that, exactly. All I had for breakfast was an apricot tart.”
Her eyebrows wag. “Oh,really? What happened to our big plan to seduce him?”
Guiltily, I look away. “It went okay. I already told you that.”
Juliana pouts. “Yeah, but you left out all the details! You said you’d tell me more later, and so far you haven’t. Are you melting his icy cold heart with your vagina yet, or what?”
Blushing, I shake my head and fill my mouth with another bite of food. Something is up with her. She’s acting like a little kid quivering in anticipation of an epic birthday party.
I wave my fork at her plate and finish swallowing. “Eat. Your food is getting cold.”
She huffs in annoyance, but she’s more than happy to dig into her favorite spicy lobster dish. We eat in companionable silence, but I can’t shake the feeling that she’s keeping something from me. Normally, we talk on the phone almost every day, or at least text to check in. Lately, she’s been harder to get a hold of and takes her time responding to my messages—unless, of course, she’s the one to text first. Then she’s bugging me for a quick response.
I’m halfway through my meal before realizing she’s barely touched hers. Her wineglass is empty, though. I refill it for her, hoping it’ll loosen her lips.
“What’s new with you?” I ask. “It seems like you’ve been pretty busy lately.”
Leaning back in the booth, I pull my wine closer and push my plate off to the side.
“Why would anything be new with me? I work in corporate finance,” she says. “And besides, I’m not the one who just moved in with the guy I’ve had a long-standing ladyboner for. Is he super kinky in bed like I told you he’d be, or what?”
I almost choke on my wine. “Oh my God, Jules, please. Don’t ever say that word in front of me again.”
