Page 46 of Naughty Festivities

Amelia was clear this attraction between them was just that. An attraction. Having family pressure was not what she wanted. Or media.

“So,” Jack said after they’d found their way out of the store and put their shopping in the trunk of the car. “Help me solve a puzzle.”

Amelia looped her arm through his and let him lead her wherever they were going next. “Sure. I’m very smart.”

Jack shot her an amused look. “Smart and very good at distracting me. I wanted to see your art before we left this morning. Is this an artist thing, or do you honestly believe your father's inappropriate comments?”

She let out a sigh, regretting what she had shared with him.

“Maybe,” Amelia said as they merged with the crowd on the sidewalk. “But he’s not wrong. An artist’s life and work are hard for most people to understand, so it’s better to just keep it separate when dating. Even for two weeks.”

“Because?”

Of course, Jack would probe further. Damn lawyer brain.

“I don’t work nine to five. Our brains think differently. Our bodies move to a different tune,” she said, hoping that was vague and yet enough that he would drop it.

“I like the tune it was playing the other night.” Jack wrapped his arm around her lower back and led them into a restaurant.

“Stop it,” she blushed, glancing around.

“Senator, welcome.” The front of the house greeted them as Jack dropped her a smirk. They were led to a table near the rear of the restaurant and Amelia assumed he’d organized this in advance.

Not just that, he’d pulled some strings to get a table at Sotto. It was usually booked well in advance.

Warm bread rolls with a bowl of fresh butter were placed between them, and crisp white linen napkins flicked open and placed on their laps.

“The bottle of Ata Rangi Pinot Noir 2020, sir.”

“Thank you,” Jack said as the server poured the white wine into his glass. “Fill them both. I’ve had this New Zealand vintage many times. Amelia will enjoy it.”

She watched him across the table, highly aroused by his confidence. He was a man who knew what he liked, and what he didn’t and wasn’t afraid to go after it.

Like he had her.

His eyes connected with hers, the flames from the nearby fireplace flickering within them. Neither of them looked away for a long moment.

Her thighs pressed together, and she drew in a little breath, her chest heaving.

“Jesus, Amelia. I’m tempted to carry you out of here like a caveman, so I can fuck your brains out. But we should eat,” Jack growled, his eyes darkening. “I want you fueled up before we get home.”

Holly hell.

She swallowed, heat spreading through her body.

When their meals arrived, Jack picked up the conversation again from earlier. “I appreciate the artist's mindset, but I’m not sure our lives are so different.”

“How so?” she asked, aware he had no idea like most people.

“I work long hours.”

Amelia sighed. “Jack, I can go into my studio and not come out for twelve hours. That could be midnight, two in the morning, or hell, even five. It’s why my brothers show up with food.”

He wiped his mouth with his napkin and placed it back on his lap, then took a sip of wine, and it somewhat irritated her that he wasn’t acknowledging the difference.

“Some nights, I sleep on Capitol Hill,” Jack said. “On my sofa.”

Oh.

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