Page 21 of Sasha’s Secret

He’d beaten her to the kitchen, as she’d suspected he might. The man had been nothing but punctual all day. Then again, he was ex-military, probably ex-special forces, and disciplined to the nth degree. His middle name was probably self-control.

She’d imagined him turning up in jeans and a short-sleeved t-shirt, given he was off the clock, and had worried that the dress she’d chosen would be too much. Now she was glad she’d made the effort.

Her dinner partner was wearing black dress shoes, black tailored pants, and a crisp, white, open-necked dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to mid-forearm, revealing the light smattering of hair that mirrored the glimpses she’d caught of his chest on their run earlier. His dark hair—slightly messy in a way that had her itching to run her fingers through it—curled a little over his collar.

With a glass of water in one hand, he sat at ease, one ankle resting on the other knee. In another reality, the one fabricated by lust and imagination, she’d go over to him, lay a hand on his shoulder, and when he lifted his head to look at her, she’d stoop and kiss him in greeting.

But that was a fantasy. Real life was very different—unfortunately. Sasha smoothed her dress down over her hips, straightened her shoulders, and stepped forward.

“Hi,” she greeted him as he rose to meet her. “I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

He gave her a smile that made butterflies loop-the-loop in her stomach. “It’s no problem. Geri let me know you’d be delayed. I’ve been enjoying the view.”

Sasha glanced toward the windows. She’d grown so accustomed to her surroundings, both inside the house and out, that she’d almost become blind to them. Seeing them through Rocco’s eyes breathed new life into her perception. “The gardens are pretty, aren’t they? You should see them in summer.”

She continued to the vacant chair, and somehow Rocco was there, drawing it back for her. He made sure she was comfortable, then returned to his seat. Before he sat down, though, he offered to pour her a glass of water.

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

Now that she had a better view of Rocco, Sasha was truly impressed. She’d last seen him in sweatpants and a tee with a V-neck—now he was the epitome of casual elegance, and every bit as devastating as he’d been in his suit during the day. The man sure did know how to dress.

On her way down for dinner, Sasha had promised herself she was going to keep the conversation strictly to business, but Rocco Equizi was pure living, breathing temptation. Just looking at him gave her a delicious tingle in places that had been in hibernation for too long. She wanted to know about him, not the work that had steered his path her way. And she didn't care how unwise it might be.

“Did you manage to resolve Linzi’s issue for her?”

“I did. She has a service that comes to Millefiori to style her hair, makeup and nails, and she was… concerned about the scheduling of her next appointment.”

“Concerned” being a euphemism for a full-on meltdown. Fortunately, Sasha was well-versed in placating her employer. When Linzi got a bee in her bonnet about something, she was harder work than usual anyway, but this time had been even worse and had taken longer. At times like this, Sasha seriously wondered how much longer she was going to stay in the job, threat or no threat. Loyalty to her former supervisor was one thing, but for the sake of her sanity, it couldn’t be an infinite resource.

Rocco’s expression intrigued her. If she had to identify the sentiment behind it, she would have said it was sympathy, as if he understood. His next words, in response to her unspoken question, confirmed it.

“A whole day visiting every department store in the West End. His husband had given my principal carte blanche to buy whatever he wanted while he was in session at some conference, and he wanted everything—except it took about three circuits of each store to make sure he got it. I’ve had easier deployments to the Middle East.”

Sasha dissolved into laughter. “Oh, that sounds painful. How did you survive?”

A panty-melting half-smile curved his mouth. “I’m not sure, but when they returned to the UK on their next visit and requested my services, my boss wove a fairly elaborate tale around my… unavailability for the duration of their trip. The two guys who drew the short straw and got the gig were not happy.”

“I’m sure they weren’t.” Sasha could imagine only too well how bad it could get.

“I’m guessing you don’t rate shopping as a pastime.”

“More like a necessary evil.” There hadn’t been much time for treating it as a recreational activity in her previous life, and her attitude toward it hadn’t changed in the intervening years.

Rocco raised his water glass in salute. “Music to a man’s ears.”

A discreet cough sounded to the side of them. Geri was peering around the wall that shielded them from the frantic activity going on in the kitchen. The young chef was wearing a smile that suggested she was reading way too much into the situation between Sasha and Rocco.

“Good evening. I hope you both had a good day today. Now, what can I get you to eat?”

Rocco shrugged. “Whatever’s easiest. We know you have your hands full with catering for Linzi and her guest.”

A thrill of pleasure zinged down Sasha’s spine. Part of her wanted to protest at the way he’d spoken for both of them, but on the other hand, she agreed with him, so why cause a commotion? Besides, she could do exactly the same. “Surprise us. Whatever it is, I know it’ll be delicious.”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Rocco asked.

Geri raised her eyebrows. “Thanks for the offer, but it’ll only stress Chef if he has untrained newbies under his feet. Sure I can’t get you a bottle of wine or something?”

“Sasha?”