Page 77 of The Billionaire's Accidental Legacy

She did and managed to make herself a large bowl of salad, and then reheated some pasta with lemon and vinegar and sat down at the concrete countertop, eating quickly, and under his far too careful gaze.

“What about you?” she asked around a mouthful of lettuce. “What are your favorite foods?”

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I have been fed a steady diet of the best and richest foods that the world’s top chefs have to offer. I’ve never really thought about what was better or worse.”

Because he was never him. He was the playboy. And it wasn’t actually about pleasing himself, but about crafting a personality aimed at his father.

She’d been grappling with similar. She’d cut her feelings off so she could avoid pain, and sorrow and disturbing memories, but he replaced all that with enough good she didn’t need it.

Not anymore.

She looked at him, at his beautiful face, and she put her hand on her rounded stomach.

It was a revelation.

The bad was still there. All her memories. Especially the one that haunted her, of the way her father had hurt that child, had used her to gain access to that child.

For the first time she was able to feel...like it was finished. The child had gotten away; Jessie had helped her. Her memory had kept the bad part of it alive, so vivid it was like she’d never really gotten out.

But she had. And somehow standing there with her future in front of her, with the possibility of good things feeling bigger than what had gone on before it, she could find the good that much easier.

And there was so much good.

“Well, we can’t have that. You need to figure out what your favorite food is.”

“Why?”

“Because everyone should know that. Food is one of the most glorious indulgences that we have been given as humans. Taste is purely for pleasure.”

“That is actually not true. Taste also tells us if something is poison.”

She sniffed. “I like my version of that better.”

“It doesn’t make it true.”

His logic was both sound and infuriating.

“Well, be that as it may. Taste buds are one of the few frivolous parts of our bodies.”

“Not theonly, though. I believe there is one part of a woman’s body that exists only for pleasure.”

His eyes met hers and she felt a fizz of desire skate down her spine. Her internal muscles clenched tight, and she wanted to cross the distance between them and slap him on the shoulder.

Because it was mean to bring that up. Especially when he was refusing to seduce her.

You’re seduced. Utterly, entirely and permanently. You could just seduce him.

She could. But she was enjoying the conversation. And the problem with them was she already knew the sex was good. But they hadn’t had conversations like this.

“That is true. But that part of your body does not tell you if something is poison. Something very bad can feel very good.”

“I suppose that is also true.”

“But in the interest of pleasurable pursuits, I do think that we need to figure out what your favorite food is.”

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