Home For The Holidays - Jordan Silver Page 0,19

the hell this is, it was moving way too fast for comfort; I thought as I made my way to the door. I only seem to think straight when I put distance between us; I’ll have to remember that.

I took the food and turned back to find her studying Rembrandt’s Night Watch, a painting I’d gone to great lengths to procure in the last year. “This isn’t a replica.”

“How do you know?”

“I saw the real thing a few years ago; this is it. How do you have it?” And she knows art; can this get any better?

“Dammit, you’re a thief; there go my nerd babies.” I give up on trying to figure out what was meant to be said aloud, and what was just her inner thoughts spilling out. “No beauty, I didn’t steal it. The museum was gracious enough to sell it to me for a hefty fee when they ran into some trouble a while ago. No one knows that a very well done replica is now hanging in their gallery. You’re the first to recognize its authenticity; even my mother, who’s a fan, hasn’t figured it out yet.”

She was still looking at me, skeptically. “Leave it, for now, lunch is getting cold, and we still need to hammer out the conditions of our deal.”

“What’s there to hammer out? You’re either going to help me, or you’re not.”

“No, there’s a hell of a lot more at stake here.”

“Like what?”

“Like the rest of your life and mine.”

Samantha

He’s serious! What does that mean? Could he be feeling the same confusing things that I am? How is that even possible? But now that I think of it, shouldn’t it be that way? How awful would it be for one person to fall head over ass in love with someone at first sight while the recipient felt nothing in return?

I’m so out of my depth here. Always before, I’ve been the one in control. Most guys of my acquaintance tend to be intimidated by my looks and wealth, not to mention my no-nonsense approach to everything under the sun. Jared has me beat in looks, I’ll admit, and if I live to a hundred, I’ll never be as wealthy as he is.

So with his last words hanging in the air between us, I didn’t know what to do with myself. Between my sudden acute case of word vomit and being blindsided by his hotness, I was left feeling like a fish out of water. And then I saw what was on the lunch menu and knew all was lost. “Lobster?” Just how much did he learn about me on his snoop fest anyway? I don’t recall mentioning this particular issue anywhere in print.

“Why are you staring at your lunch like it’s the enemy? Don’t you like lobster?”

“Oh, I like it, alright.” A little too much! I mumbled the last bit in a whisper as I took the seat he held out for me. When he kissed the top of my head, you’d think he’d stripped me naked the way I reacted. My whole body went up in flames, and I got that itchy feeling again.

I’d swear that he’d read a blueprint of all the buttons to push to get into my pants, but until roughly an hour ago, I myself didn’t know what it would take. I’ve secretly begun to think that I might be asexual since no one has ever done it for me, but here I am, getting all hot and bothered over something as innocent as a kiss to my head.

“Umm, your hair smells amazing.”

“Thank you; I washed it for the occasion.” I was still eyeing lunch like it was about to jump up and bite me. I was tempted to come up with an excuse to refuse, but dammit, it’s lobster. Of all the things he could’ve chosen. Oh well!

Maybe this will jar him out of whatever is going on with him that makes him think he’s even a little bit attracted to me, and we can get back on course. He’s too much man for me anyway. At least that’s what I told myself as I mourned what almost was.

I blocked him out as I bypassed the special lobster fork and used my fingers to tear the succulent flesh from its shell before dipping it into the warm herbed butter. I made the humming sound I always make when partaking of this delight before the food even touched my lips, and the moan when I finally bit