Page 22 of Here Comes Trouble
He could tell he was going to have to play the long game to get Jess to trust him, but the thought of it buoyed him.
He enjoyed a challenge.
* * *
After taking a long, reviving nap, Jess spent the remainder of the day taking photos of the amazing villa and jotting down ideas for her article on Xander.
The reprieve he’d given her earlier had been a welcome relief, but she knew if she was going to get him to open up, she was going to have to give more of herself than she’d originally anticipated. He’d responded really kindly to her confession about her hatred of being the centre of attention and she’d felt as if laying herself bare like that had endeared her to him.
She guessed that as an artist he needed to be able to see more than surface level too.
But it was a dangerous game she was playing. She couldn’t allow herself to get swept up in imagining there was more of a connection between them than there actually was. He was famous for his short, sharp affairs with his muses and she couldn’t allow herself to get carried away and expect there to be any actual romance.
Xander was a fantastic flirt, but surely he didn’t mean anything by it? He was just trying to lure her under his spell so she’d give him what he wanted.
He was clearly a very smart guy who played to his strengths.
After staring at her meagre collection of clothes for a few minutes, she shunned the grey linen suit – too formal – and her jeans – too informal – for the only other thing semi-suitable for a dinner out: a long, light wool jumper and black, cotton trousers. It was totally over the top for a summer’s evening but she hadn’t anticipated needing anything for dining out. Her wardrobe at home didn’t contain any decent ‘going out’ clothes any more anyway. Not since she’d moved to London and didn’t have the money or energy to go out in the evenings.
Whatever. It would have to do. This wasn’t a date, it was her job, so it shouldn’t matter what she looked like.
Eight o’clock came and went and she found herself pacing the hall, her senses on high alert for any sign of Xander as she waited.
Finally, he appeared, his hair gleaming and pushed away from his face as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. The casual, off-duty appearance did something funny to her insides. It made him more human somehow, more touchable.
As he got closer, she noticed he smelled as if he’d just stepped out of the shower too, all clean and fresh with a dark, musky undertone from some bodywash product or other.
Even if hewasthe most delicious thing she’d ever encountered, she shouldn’t lose sight of the fact he’d left her hanging around in the hall like a sad muppet when he was the one who’d set the time to meet for dinner, then turned up late. She pursed her lips as he stopped in front of her, determined not to let his charisma beat her into submission. ‘I was expecting you fifteen minutes ago.’
He grinned, knocking the ferocity right out of her. ‘You look just like the headmistress of the school I was expelled from when you do that. Although that expression looks a lot sexier on you.’
Despite the smile tugging at her mouth, she somehow managed to raise a judicious eyebrow. ‘I consider lateness to be rude, but then what else should I expect from such a bad boy?’
His mouth twitched at the corner, but he held up both hands and dipped his head in acquiescence. ‘Yes, Miss. It’s a fair cop. You’re right; it was rude of me to be late.’
She gave him a nod, trying to appear as if she was used to handling men like him every day.
‘Let’s go,’ he said, opening the front door and gesturing for her to exit first.
They walked over to his car, which was parked under a small, wooden awning covered in fragrant smelling honeysuckle.
Jess was surprised and a little taken aback when Xander opened the passenger door for her and waited until she’d got in before closing it behind her. Was he on his best behaviour now she’d pointed out his rudeness? Could she really be having that much of an impact on him?
‘What a gentleman,’ she said after he’d walked round to the other side and slid into the driving seat.
‘You don’t mind that then?’ he asked. ‘Some women hate having doors opened for them.’
‘I don’t mind at all. I consider it good manners. I’d do the same for you though, if I got to the car first.’
He smiled and gave her a courteous tip of the head before slipping the car into gear and setting off.
‘Did you book a table?’ she asked.
He flipped her a grin. ‘No, but they’ll fit us in, don’t worry about that.’
* * *
There was a queue five couples deep when they pulled up outside the vine-covered trattoria in Salo.
