Page 37 of Shea's Hero

First, I hit up Leo to hack into the security cameras at the restaurant. So he’s watching from home to make sure no one suspicious approaches. Then I recruited Kane to sit in the main dining room as a lookout, which he was more than happy to do.

When I asked him yesterday, he said with a laugh, “A free meal at Giuseppe’s and you’ll stop walking around with that gloomy look on your face? Sign me up.”

I didn’t look gloomy. Contemplative, maybe. But since he was agreeing to help me out, I let it go.

“Well.” Shea takes a sip of her wine. “I love that you wanted to do all this. And make sure it’s safe.”

“Did you enjoy it? The food? The restaurant?” I pause. “The date?”

“Of course.” It’s quick. Certain. “I loved all of it.”

As she leans forward to set down her wine glass, the neckline of her dress dips, exposing a hint of cleavage. There’s some sort of shimmery stuff on her skin, not a lot, but enough to make me wonder where else she has it.

Lips curving up, Shea asks, “Did you just look at my boobs?”

“Maybe. Is that bad?”

“No.” Pink touches her cheeks. “Why do you think I wore this dress?”

Oh.

I can feel myself getting hard. My pants are suddenly much too tight.

Shit.

I know it’s much too soon. Aside from when I held Shea on the couch the other night, all we’ve done is hold hands. Just because sex—no, not sex, making love—used to be incredible doesn’t mean we’re anywhere close to that.

That doesn’t mean I can’t think about it, though.

“Do you like the dress?” There’s a teasing glint in her eyes.

She’s wearing this wrap dress made of a flowy rose-colored fabric that drapes across the swell of her breasts and dips into a slight V between them. And while I can’t see it now, I definitely noticed how nice Shea’s ass looks in her dress, with just enough stretch in the fabric to cling to it.

“Yes,” I reply. “I love the dress.” Then I go for broke and add, “You look beautiful. If that’s alright to say.”

Pleasure brightens Shea’s face. “It’s more than alright. And you?—”

“Ahh, and how were the desserts?”

Shea jolts as our server comes into the room, his ebullient voice reaching us before him. Even though I know Kane cleared the guy before letting him in, my muscles still tense, and my hand twitches towards the Glock I have tucked inside my jacket.

After a brief hesitation, Shea smiles at him. “They were wonderful. Thank you so much for the recommendations. The tiramisu was just…”

“Scrumptious, right?” He pats his stomach as he nods at her. “That’s what I have at the end of each shift.”

“They were very good,” I add pleasantly, though what I really want is to tell him to leave us alone. That Shea and I were sharing a moment, she was flirting with me, and I want to get back to that instead of talking about dessert.

“Can I interest you in a digestivi?” Our server—Mario, I think—whips out a small leather folder. “We have an excellent limoncello, or a sambuca. Or perhaps an espresso? If you’d like to look at the drink menu…”

Shea glances at me with her eyebrows raised. “What do you think?”

I think I want to keep this date going as long as possible.

“I’ll have an espresso,” I tell Mario. “Since I’m driving.”

“An espresso sounds perfect,” Shea agrees. “Thank you.”

I watch him carefully as he leaves, only relaxing once he’s gone. Then I take Shea’s hand again, this time twining her slender fingers between mine. “So. I don’t want to rush you, but I’m wondering… how soon is too soon to see you again?”

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