Page 19 of One Naughty Night (Single in South Beach)

He could have watched her all day.

And for the most part he did. Because minutes turned to an hour as she cataloged details and made extensive notes. Then another hour. Until he realized that no matter how much he savored her expertise on furnishings, the close quarters with Esmerelda Giles was seriously affecting him on a personal level. Between the heady draw of her sweet vanilla scent, and the willowy way she moved through the aisles between furniture, his hands itched to touch her, to run rogue over her body like they had the night before.

For that matter, her little murmurs of joy as she discovered each new chair or shelf or—worse— each elaborate bed frame, nudged him to the brink of sanity. If she could sigh with appreciation over an inanimate object, what kind of noises would she make underneath him, her legs wrapped around his waist and her head thrown back until. . .

“Renzo?”

He blinked away the thoughts of Esme naked, wishing he hadn’t made that dumb ass promise not to touch her unless she asked him to. How would he ever get close enough to trace the source of her scent if he couldn’t touch her?

“Yes?”

She set down her pencil and paper on a French rococo dresser complete with gilded paint and curved drawers. “We’ve been working on this too long, haven’t we? I tend to lose all track of time when I get involved in this sort of thing.”

“So do we have a deal? We could always celebrate the beginning of a new partnership.” He automatically held out a hand to her as she sucked in a breath to squeeze between two earlier sets of cabinets he’d never been totally happy with.

Too late, he remembered the damn no-touching promise.

She held onto his extended arm for balance until she cleared the maze of furnishings, the caress of her skin against his a heated brand that sizzled right through him. Relinquishing his fingers as if she hadn’t even noticed the intimacy of the contact, she nodded.

“We definitely have a deal.” Sidling past him, she picked her way down the stairs, moving in that careful, precise manner that had caught his eye last night amid the denizens of Club Paradise who prided themselves on letting it all hang out.

He followed her down to the kitchen, unwilling to part with this chance to get closer to her without necessarily touching. All he needed to do was to make her come to him.

“Excellent.” He reached for a bottle of sauvignon blanc in the wine rack behind the pantry. Nothing too fancy, but it went with fish. “But it’s Cesare family tradition to seal the big deals by breaking bread together.”

It was true enough. He didn’t need to tell her Cesare family tradition called for a big meal for most every other occasion, too.

She bit her lip as she stared up at him, her blue eyes communicating all the hesitancy she hadn’t voiced yet.

Plowing ahead before she had the chance, he pulled a wineglass from cabinet and stuffed it in her hand. “So, what do you say, Esme? Can you forgive me enough to let me make dinner for you tonight?”

ChapterSix

Anormal woman would say yes.

Who could resist this tall, dark and gorgeous man with a bottle of wine in hand as he promised her dinner?

“I have to admit, the offer is tempting.” Her fingers flexed around the stout wineglass. “You’ve put in a long day and I happen to know you couldn’t have gotten much sleep last night. You owe it to yourself to let me cook for you.” He cracked the seal on the wine and started peeling off the paper around the top of the bottle. “Besides, dinner is the least I can do for you after I messed up your date last night.”

Which reminded her she never did make connections with her neighbor about the disastrous outcome of her date with Hugh. The day had been a blur of new worries and new hopes.

And Renzo.

“I’ll stay for dinner on one condition.” Determined to call a few of the shots tonight, Esme had no intention of letting her new business partner think he could maneuver her too easily. She’d been that route with her last employer and he’d walked all over her.

Still, she extended her glass to Renzo as he uncorked the wine.

“And what might that be?” He loomed closer, his broad shoulders filling too much of her line of vision, yet true to his word, he didn’t touch her.

“I get to ask all the questions I want and you have to be honest about the answers.” If the man lied to her again, all bets were off for this business deal.

But something inside her already seemed confident that wouldn’t happen. An innate sense of honor shimmered through Renzo’s actions, a definite hint of nobility that rested side-by-side with all that cocky male arrogance. She saw it in his manners, heard it in the way he spoke about his family.

“You want to ask me questions?” He finished filling her glass and moved to pull a chair out from the kitchen table. “You probably know more about this furniture than I do, but ask away while I start dinner.”

She took the seat he’d held out for her and smiled to herself as he shoved the fruit bowl spilling over with grapes closer to her fingertips. She leaned back in her chair and plucked a green grape from its stem, thinking she had a very nice view as Renzo snagged a glass for himself from the cabinet.

Denim was invented for men like him.

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