do things together. And just in case you need me to even more direct—” His hand slides around my hip and splays on my lower back. “I want you to go with me. And they want to get to know you.” His hand falls away. “Unless you don’t want to go—”
“Don’t you even say that.” I capture his hand and press it right back on my hip and hold it there. “I do. We’re new and I’m not used to this whole relationship thing.”
“Get used to it. I’m not going anywhere.” He leans in and brushes his lips over mine, his tongue doing a slow, silky slide across mine before he murmurs, “Capisci?”
I smile at the Italian word that in this case means do you understand. “I do. And you taste like cookies.”
“I’d rather taste like you.”
My cheeks flush and now he smiles. “Why did I know you’d blush? I think I need to give you a little warning, Aria Stradivari.”
His words promise that warning will be hot and naughty and I happily take the bait. “Warn me?”
“I’m going to say and do such dirty things to you that you won’t be able to blush any longer.”
A low burn simmers in my belly. “If I let you,” I taunt.
His lips, those brutal, sexy lips that I know will do many of those dirty things, curve. “Challenge accepted.” He strokes my cheek and then turns me in the opposite direction. “Hurry.” He smacks my backside just hard enough for me to feel the erotic sting. “We need tacos, stat.”
With a curve of my own lips, I hurry forward, unable to deny the clench of my sex and nipples at that palm on my backside. I barely know myself with this man. I am a control freak, and yet the dominant, dirty side of this man, arouses me. I’m not sure what to do with that.
“Pack for the weekend,” Kace calls out.
I abandon my bag and appear in the doorway. “The weekend? It’s Tuesday.”
“Exactly. Almost Friday. You might as well just stay the weekend.”
I laugh. “It’s not almost Friday.”
“Close enough.”
“I worry about being away from the store that long.”
“Walker will have your place under surveillance the minute you give them a thumbs-up. Tonight if you want. But we’ll stay here if you prefer.”
“No,” I say quickly, far easier than even I expect. “You need to have access to your violins to practice. And I like listening to you play.”
Surprise flickers in his eyes and fades into warmth. “Then go pack, baby. I’ll call Walker and make sure they have eyes on your place tonight.”
“Thank you, Kace.”
He winks and reaches for his phone. Mine buzzes with a text where I’ve set it on the bathroom counter. Thinking of the Fetzer, I rush and grab it, and I’m not disappointed at what I find. The text is from Donelle’s attorney and refers me to my email for photos. I rush back into the bedroom. “Kace.”
He’s on the phone. “Hold that thought,” he tells whoever is on the line. “What’s up, baby?”
“I called about that violin. It’s the Fetzer.”
“Holy hell.” He speaks into the phone. “I’ll call you back.” He disconnects. “Are you sure?”
“They sent me photos.” I pull up my email and sit down on the bed, Kace is right there by me when I open the email and we both are instantly in awe. “Oh my God,” I murmur. “It’s beautiful.”
“Where is it?” Kace asks.
“That’s the catch. He’s old. He can’t travel. He’s in Italy. And I was suspicious but now that I’ve seen the photos, you can’t miss out on this.”
“I can’t miss out on this?”
“He wants you to have it. He’s the last of his namesake. He wants it to go to someone who deserves it and when I said your name he was in heaven. You need this violin for you.”
“Baby, I told you this was for you to make money.”
“It belongs with you.”
He studies me a moment, his expression unreadable. “Then I’ll pay you the finder’s fee.”
“I’m not taking a finder’s fees for a violin you found yourself. Not happening. Were you able to get a viewing of the Le Marquis Doria?”
“He’ll be back Thanksgiving week. We can see it then.”
There’s a pinch in my chest at the idea of Gio still not being home by Thanksgiving, but I shove aside the thought and focus on the violins. “I’m excited to see them both. And on that note, I need to go pack.” I stand up and Kace is