Page 61 of The Wrong Move

“Are you easily excited?”

His eyes narrow. “Around you, yes. Easily. So please, let’s focus on food so the owner’s brother doesn’t get kicked out for indecent exposure.”

I giggle. “We can always go back to your pool.”

He sighs loudly. “Now all I’m thinking about is you in my pool. You’ll be the death of me, Giana.” The way he saysGianasounds like he wants to discipline me later, and I’m here for it. “I also think you’re trying to distract me from whatever it is we’re celebrating.”

Byron unbuttons the top buttons of his pale-yellow shirt. The server arrives, and I order a white wine to complement our pasta dish. While we differ in many ways, he enjoys the pasta and the carbs for his energy as much as I love it. And I’ve been thinking about the glorious food and wine I will have this weekend.

“When our wine arrives, I’ll tell you.” We don’t wait long as the waiter returns, opens the bottle, and offers us both a taste of the fine Pinot Grigio.

“It’s perfect,” I tell him. He pours the wine into our glasses and places the bottle in an ice bucket beside our table before leaving us.

Byron holds up his glass and clinks it against mine. “To…”

“A new contract in Italy.” His expression sags. “Isabella called this morning…” I add quickly, “… and Cibo Creativo wants my designs on their kitchen appliances. Can you believe that? My bright colors and floral designs will be on kettles, toasters, stand mixers, and state-of-the-art cookware. Isabella saidArrivederci noiosa cucina, which meansGoodbye boring kitchens.” I smile at Byron, still overwhelmed every time I think about it.

He blinks a few times. “Wow. All this from you painting for fun at school. Do what you love, and the world is your oyster.” He stands, rounds the table, and leans in to hug me. His thick arms wrap around my shoulders as he squeezes tightly. “I’m so proud of you, Gi.” He kisses my forehead slowly and deliberately before resuming his seat at the table. He adjusts his shirt. “We should have ordered champagne.”

“I love Italian wine, and it is fitting since I’ll be there this weekend.”

His glass freezes halfway to his lips. “This weekend?”

“Mm-hmm.” I take a sip of wine, avoiding his intense gaze for a moment. “While I was to return on Thursday, Isabella has a grand opening for Leto Designs in a new store, and she wants me there for photographs. The rest of the weekend will be about meeting with Cibo Creativo, except for Saturday night, when I’m invited to some gala.”

Byron takes a slow sip of his wine before placing the crystal on the table and meeting my gaze. “The last time we spoke about your returning to Italy, you sounded apprehensive. I said I would go with you. The offer still stands.”

I reach across the table and take Byron’s hand. “Thank you. While I would love for you to come and share this with me, allow me to check with Isabella first.”

Byron’s brow pinches. Oh shit.

“Isabella doesn’t make the rules. Frankly, if I want to be with you, stay in your room with you, it is none of her business what happens after hours. While you’re in meetings, I could explore the city. At the grand opening, I could be an anonymous customer in the crowd. I could also be warming your bed, waiting for you to come home from the gala. Isabella doesn’t have to know I’m there. I could be your secret.”

I giggle at him. “Okay, I like the sound of your plan. Let me check first, though, in case I can get you a ticket to the ball.” I tilt my head at him. “Can you get time off training?”

“I’ll train. Mostly in your bed.”

Someone, please pass me a fan.

Every stepfrom Byron’s garage to the kitchen, I’m thinking about what comes next. Something has changed. A familiarity. When we are together, it feels right. Natural.

The way my hand fits neatly in his. The shooting side-look of him checking on me. While he’s breathing normally, I’m a little out of breath. My excited heartbeat doesn’t help.

“I’ll fix us a drink,” he says. He lets go of my hand and opens the refrigerator, pours cold water into two glasses, and adds ice. I stare out at his pool, which beckons me to strip and cool down. Suddenly, Byron is behind me, shifting my hair away from my neck and kissing my skin with a tenderness that has me closing my eyes.

“Do you want to swim?” he whispers, his breath sending tingles along my spine.

“Hmm.” I tilt my head for him. “With wine, maybe.” The caress stops, and I feel cheated.

“I need you to drink some water.” He hands me the cold glass.

“You’re the athlete who needs to hydrate more…” I take a sip, even though it’s not my drink of choice.

“And I don’t want you drinking until later.”

“Later?” I take another sip.

Byron removes the water from my hand and places it beside his half-empty glass on the bench. He takes my hand and turns me to the staircase leading to his bedroom. “We have unfinished business, and I need you to remember everything.”

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