Every night since she’d arrived in Bosque Verde, Aubrey had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. But as she climbed into bed after their impromptu celebration, she doubted she would get any sleep at all. Her heart still pounded like a bass drum beating out a battle march, and her sensitized skin felt every brush of her silky pajamas and the smooth sheets like a caress.
Landon’s eyes had followed her every movement, and she’d felt ridiculously hot in the air-conditioned kitchen. While Aria’s bright humor and warm presence had eased the tension between them, a stolen glance or an accidental brush of their skin had set Aubrey back on fire. The only thing that stopped her from ogling and panting after Landon all evening was observing Aria and Landon’s easy friendship.
Aria teased him relentlessly, and he gave back as good as he got. They didn’t pull their punches either. Even when Aubrey cringed at their bawdier jokes, thinking they’d gone too far, they only laughed harder at themselves and at each other. Watching Landon with his guard down—laid-back and playful—made her heart twist with something bittersweet. Aubrey had probably seen more of his true personality in one evening than she would’ve if she’d spent weeks with him as a business acquaintance.
She sighed and tossed onto her other side, fluffing her pillow. Landon was considerate, funny, and intelligent, and she genuinely liked him. If she could push aside her wildfire attraction to him, Operation Friendship could be a huge success. Becoming his friend would be wonderful—not to mention far less complicated than a fling—and, with any luck, lasting. With the flickering hope of having Landon in her life, Aubrey slid into sleep.
The next morning, she couldn’t get her eyes to open. She knew the sun was out through her closed lids, but they were heavy as iron curtains and refused to budge. After a minute of half-hearted struggle, sleep overpowered the morning person inside her.
When Aubrey dragged herself out of bed, it was past ten o’clock in the morning. The villa was silent when she descended the stairs after a shower. Landon seemed to have left for work, and she stood alone in the kitchen, sipping a mug of strong coffee. Her strawberry shortcake had turned out well last night, but she wanted to play around with it a little more. There was room for improvement, especially with the texture of the cake after the macerated strawberries were poured on.
Aubrey enjoyed a quiet day on her own, experimenting with her new recipe, but by sunset, she found herself glancing out the windows facing the front and listening for tires crunching against the driveway.
She wasn’t sure how this roommate thing was supposed to work. Were they going to have dinner together? Should she cook something and wait for him to come home? No, not home, the villa. Her cheeks warmed up at her slip. Before she could fluster herself any further, her phone chimed to announce a new message.
Landon: I thought I’d pick up some Thai for us. Does that sound okay?
Her chest hurt as though it had fallen asleep like a lazy foot only to wake up to prickling pain. He was picking up dinner. For us. She couldn’t breathe.
Landon: Or I could cook if you’d like.
She gave her head a quick shake and typed out a response.
Aubrey: Thai sounds wonderful.
Landon: Great. I’ll see you around 7:30.
Aubrey: Okay, see you soon.
She stared at the screen for a long while, scared to look away. Her heart still fluttered like the wings of a dragonfly taking flight, and her blood hummed—this. A few words and suddenly she didn’t feel alone. Her thirsty soul soaked in the joy of having someone come home to her. Business associate. Friend. It didn’t matter at all. She was going to tuck away every moment of her time here. While she was in Bosque Verde, she wouldn’t be alone. She would have Landon.
Seven thirty was more than an hour away, and Aubrey didn’t want to drive herself crazy, waiting for him by the door. She trailed her fingers along the books in the living room bookshelf and chose a Julia Child biography. Curling her legs under her, she sat at the corner of a leather sofa and read the first page over and over again by the light of a table lamp.
The sound of a car driving toward the villa had her rushing to the door and pulling it wide open. Landon parked near the entrance and stepped out of the vehicle. Surprise registered on his face before his lips spread into a warm smile.
“Hi,” she said breathlessly.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” she repeated because she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Landon hadn’t moved from his spot by his car, but her second greeting seemed to nudge him into action. He jogged over to the passenger side and pulled out two enormous paper bags with handles. One was a brown shopping bag, and the other was a plain white one. She’d never been to a restaurant that recycled random shopping bags for takeout.
He turned sideways to get through the doorway with his load, and Aubrey belatedly stepped aside so he could get inside.
“Did you order their entire menu?”
“Not quite,” he said with mischief in his voice.
“You should go change out of your suit. I can set the table.”
“No, I’m fine.” He placed the bags on the kitchen counter and pulled his tie off. “What I would like for you to do is get a nice, cool drink and hang out in the living room for a few minutes.”
“What are you up to?” She glanced sideways at him with narrowed eyes. But instead of answering, he gently pushed her out of the kitchen, handing her a bottle of sparkling water.
“Trust me. It’ll be worth it.”
About fifteen minutes later, Landon came into the living room and offered her his arm. She looped her arm through his with a shrug. He looked adorably excited, and she didn’t want to be a party pooper. When they stepped into the kitchen, she saw the table overflowing with beautiful food.
“Oh, my gosh. How did you do all this? I thought you were picking up takeout.”
“It is takeout, but I didn’t want you to miss the restaurant’s amazing presentation. I know the owner, so I asked them to pack the food for me in their serving wear. I promised to return everything tomorrow.”
Aubrey sat down, pulling her chair forward. “Okay. Tell me what I’m looking at.”
“This dish,” Landon said, pointing to a twelve-inch-wide plate with an indentation in the center the size of a soup bowl, “is the two-hundred-years pad thai. A recipe passed down for generations. That split langoustine on the side isn’t just for decoration. It’s so sweet and fresh, it’s one of the stars of the dish.”
“What are those little mounds?”
Pointing to each, he said, “Salt, chili flakes, and crushed peanuts.”
“And that’s a carrot rose? It’s as detailed as the roses I make for my cakes. I build mine petal by petal. How the heck did they carve a carrot into that?”
“Very carefully.” Landon chuckled, obviously pleased by her appreciation. “The food’s going to get cold. Let me move on to the rest.”
There were tamarind prawns nestled in a fresh pineapple bowl, sliced lengthwise; steamed fish in lime sauce in a steel, fish-shaped bowl; and red curry with rambutan, a close cousin of lychee, per Landon, stuffed with ground shrimp in a shallow golden pot with large handles on each side. It truly was a feast for all senses.
“I’m going to eat all of this,” Aubrey said fervently, her eyes never leaving the table. “Just kidding. I’ll let you have a little.”
Landon tossed the bean sprouts, chili flakes, and crushed peanuts into the pad thai and then finished with a splash of lime. Aubrey dug in as soon as he served her a generous portion. If ever there were a perfect bite, this was it. The dynamic scent blended into the flavors that first met her tongue—tart, sweet, and salty with a hint of nuttiness. Then there was the texture. The not-too-thick rice noodles were so chewy but not sticky, the sauce adding just the right amount of moisture.
She insisted they split the langoustine, pulling the succulent flesh out of the shell. She was delighted by the taut, crunchy outer texture, proof that it was fresh and perfectly cooked. And the sweetness. It wasn’t dessert, but it certainly was satisfying for a main dish.
Aubrey loved the addicting flavor of the tamarind shrimp, and the lip-puckering lime sauce and fresh cilantro on the tender steamed fish was refreshing. The red curry with rambutan was the most unique and novel Thai dish she’d ever tried. The rambutan has a firm texture similar to dried mangoes but a little softer and meatier. The ground shrimp inside had a meatball-like texture and added plenty of salt to the sweetness of the fruit. The spicy red curry with the creaminess of coconut milk rounded out the dish beautifully. Add in some jasmine rice, and she could have probably eaten a basinful in one seating.
She was so full her stomach was stretched tight, and she felt slightly light-headed. All her blood was rushing to her overstuffed stomach to assist with the digestion, leaving little for her brain.
“That was the most fascinating thing I’ve ever seen,” said Landon.
Her butt nearly shot off her chair. She’d forgotten about Landon in her delirious gluttony. Oh, my God. “Did I actually eat all of this? Please tell me you ate enough, too.”
“I’ve seriously never seen someone eat a meal with such intensity and bliss before.”
“Did. You. Eat?” Mortification was washing over her in hot waves.
“Yes, yes.” He swiped his hand through the air as though her question were a pesky fruit fly. “So what made that happen? I’ve eaten with you before. This was definitely new.”
“Well, I love Thai food, obviously, and I was famished. But it was really the impact of the gorgeous presentation and the surprising combinations of flavor and texture that did it.” She blushed to the top of her hairline. Maybe her head was steaming a little at the crown. “Thank you so much for dinner, Landon.”
“It was my absolute pleasure. Your joy made my meal more delicious as well.”
They chatted awhile longer and then cleared the table and washed the dishes in comfortable silence. That evening allowed her to ease into a lovely routine without overthinking things. Operation Friendship was in fine shape.
Preparations for the first shooting had the production team running around in a flurry of activity, and Aubrey and Landon’s cozy evenings came to an end. He seemed to be in the thick of it all, which meant she hardly saw him at the villa. In the last few days, he went to work before she woke up and came home after she fell asleep.
Her days were far less exciting without him. Aubrey sighed listlessly. Less exciting was a good thing. A safe thing. In fact, if she thought with her brain instead of her girlie parts, she would remember she had her heart and Comfort Zone to protect.
She shook off her melancholy and got herself ready for work. Her portion of the filming was scheduled to start in a week, and she still had one more recipe to create. That meant she had to hit the tasting rooms again. The perfect Moscato remained elusive even after several days of wine tasting. Even though light dessert wines were far less potent than fortified red wines, nausea rolled through Aubrey’s stomach. She would swish and spit every wine, and stop when she got tired.
After her decision to take things easy, the wine tour promised to be relaxing and enjoyable. And the tour provided pickup and drop-off service, so it was perfect for her current car-less situation. Her group was made up of a friendly middle-aged couple with their college-age daughter and a lovely older couple on vacation from Germany.
Michael, their tour guide and chauffeur, was a sun-bronzed Californian with a brilliant smile and an endless supply of jokes. The college girl laughed hysterically at every witticism, and Aubrey worried the poor girl might crack her ribs.
“Aubrey, you get shotgun.” Michael took her elbow and led her to the front passenger seat.
“Me? Are you sure?” She couldn’t help glancing at the younger woman, feeling guilty even though she’d done nothing wrong. But the girl glared at Aubrey with narrowed eyes, and her guilt evaporated. Glare at him, not me.
“Yes, I’m sure. Everyone else is here with someone.” He winked. “I’ll keep you company, so you won’t be lonely.”
She shrugged and climbed onto the front seat.
The off-the-beaten-path wineries Michael took them to were all beautifully situated and had an abundance of the white and dessert wines the group had signed up for. Aubrey spat and rinsed after every tasting. So far, the wines were lovely, and she was holding up fine.
“Hey,” she protested when Michael casually took her glass from her hand.
“This one’s exquisite,” he said, inhaling deeply from the glass.
He made a point of holding her gaze so she wouldn’t miss he was referring to both her and the wine. Inner Aubrey rolled her eyes, but tourist Aubrey humored the guide and offered a bland smile. He was, after all, giving them an excellent tour. But when he took a small sip of her wine, Aubrey had to draw the line. She didn’t mix spit with strangers. Gag.
“Give that back. You’re the designated driver.” She snatched her glass back. Michael guffawed like she’d made some adorable joke even though she was frying him with her death ray.
The next winery had a stunning view of the valley, so Aubrey forgave Michael’s prior wine theft. As the day wore on, the gorgeous vineyards and easy company relaxed Aubrey enough to let go of her stress. Finding a half a dozen candidates for her second dessert didn’t hurt either. At the end of the productive tour, the sway of the van lulled Aubrey to sleep as Michael drove the group back to their lodgings.
“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty.” She heard a faraway voice calling her. She struggled to wake up, her eyelashes fluttering against the weight of sleep.
Aubrey’s eyes shot open, remembering she was in a tour van. In fact, she was the last one in the van, and Michael was standing beside the open passenger door wearing his white, toothy grin. He offered his hand to help her off the van, and she grasped it to make sure she didn’t bury her drowsy nose into the driveway.
She tested her land legs and was relieved to find them sturdy, but when she tried to withdraw her hand, he held on. Suppressing her annoyance, Aubrey smiled stiffly and tugged harder at her hand.
“Sorry about keeping you. Thank you so much for a lovely tour.”
Michael relaxed his death grip, and she retrieved her hand, but he didn’t leave as she’d hoped. Now that she was fully awake, Aubrey was impatient to get started on her recipe.
“Are you sure you don’t need me to help you inside?” He gave her what had to be a well-practiced puppy dog face.
Cute … but not that cute. She sighed and opened her mouth to shoo him away, but her words caught in her throat as strong hands wrapped around her waist.
“Thanks for the offer, but I can take it from here.” Landon spoke quietly from behind, but the icy steel in his voice propelled Michael into action. He scampered to hand over her wine to Landon and drove away in a cloud of dust.
Aubrey spun out of Landon’s hold and gaped at him. His high-handedness infuriated her, but his possessiveness lit a fire in her pants. Fury and lust wrestled inside her with no clear winner.
“Enjoying the locals?” Landon raised an eyebrow and regarded her with a humorless smirk. “So this is how you’ve been spending your days.”
What the blazing hell? “Why, yes, I do enjoy meeting the locals.” Aubrey’s temper burned through any lingering confusion. She was her own person, and no one controlled her choices. “There are so many lovely, interesting people here.”
“Is that so?” His icy voice sent a shiver down her spine.
“More importantly, it’s none of your business how I spend my days. Or with whom.”
“Like hell it isn’t.”
“I agreed to guest star on Aria’s show with two original recipes. I went wine tasting to find the Moscato for my second dessert, because it’s a part of my job, if you recall.” Her flight instinct had a slight edge over her fight instinct, but she held her ground and pulled back her shoulders. “I don’t go frolicking in the fields when you leave the house, asshole. I take my work very seriously.”
“Fuck.” The fight drained out of Landon in a blink, and he scrubbed his face with his hands. “That was uncalled for. I was way out of line.”
“It was, and you were.” As she stood glaring at him with her arms folded across her chest, she noticed for the first time how exhausted he looked. Her brows drew together as concern overshadowed her anger.
“I didn’t like it,” he said, holding her gaze. “I didn’t like seeing him touch you. Looking at you that way.”
“Landon,” she whispered. His words wrapped around her heart and squeezed tight. “You can’t say things like that.”
“I know.” His regret and yearning were palpable in the moment, and his vulnerability made Aubrey ache to hold him.
Landon squeezed the back of his neck and closed his eyes for a few breaths. When he opened them again, all his emotions were in check. The moment had passed. Gratitude, disappointment, and regret filled her.
“It looks like you’ve had a rough day.” Her voice shook only a little.
“The construction on the schoolhouse is delayed by days. Every damn thing is leaking and short-circuiting. Then, the production manager’s wife went into labor five weeks early, so he had to fly home today. The baby was in a rush to meet his parents, I guess.” He ran his fingers through his hair, looking sheepish. “So yeah. It’s been one hell of a day, but it’s no excuse for being a jerk.”
“No, it isn’t.” Aubrey’s tart response was half-hearted. He needed to rest, not stand in the middle of the driveway arguing with her for no good reason. She held out her hand with a no-hard-feelings smile. “With all that going on, I’d be a little cranky, too. Truce?”
His brows shot up to his forehead, and then a relieved grin spread across his face. He clasped her hand, but instead of shaking it, he lifted it to his lips for a lingering kiss. Her toes curled, and her legs threatened to wobble.
“Truce.”
Landon took heavy-footed steps up the stairs, and Aubrey headed for the kitchen. A shower and a nap should do him wonders, but she had a feeling his version of rest consisted of stretching his legs out in an armchair and reading his emails.
By the time sunset flooded the kitchen with its orange glow, Aubrey was banging around like a raccoon raiding a trash can. She could taste the smooth Moscato sorbet in her head, but the cold glob in her mouth only bore a passing resemblance to the one in her imagination. When she was happy with the flavor, the texture was not quite right, and when the texture came out just so, the flavor was underwhelming. Alcoholic beverages were notoriously hard to freeze properly, especially in ice cream consistency. Frustration knotted her stomach.
At least her cherry-and-walnut cookies were exquisite. The local olive oil added a brisk, floral flavor to them, and the lightly sprinkled pink Himalayan salt drew out more of the subtle layers of flavor.
Aubrey loved chewy and crunchy cookies equally, but for this recipe, she went for a delicate, crisp exterior and a moist, chewy center. The cookie held a savory note from the olive oil and a hint of saltiness, but it was sweet. No baked good had a right to call itself a cookie without being sweet. And the cherries added a zing to keep things fun.
The cookies were about the size of her palm, so she could build a full-size ice cream sandwich. The crispy, chewy texture wouldn’t crack apart at the first bite, and its density would keep it from soaking up the ice cream and getting soggy.
Unfortunately, the latest batch of sorbet was unworthy of being hugged by such awesomeness. She had to get the recipe right. Comfort Zone’s future could depend on her two recipes for the show. All she needed was a goddamn perfect Moscato sorbet. Was perfection too much to ask for? Her frustration boiling over, Aubrey balled up a dish towel and threw it across the kitchen.
“Whoa!” Landon caught the towel an inch from his face. “I thought we called a truce.”
“I’m so sorry,” she mumbled through the hands covering her startled mouth before she dropped them to her sides. “But you weren’t standing there when I threw it, so you technically got in the towel’s way.”
“Okay. My mistake.” Landon chuckled and swaggered to the island, where she’d set up her working station. “Now tell me what’s going on.”
“Oh, nothing,” she said breezily. “I just can’t seem to get anything right.”
He snatched a cookie off the cooling rack and bit into it. “You’re insane. What could possibly be wrong with these?”
“They’re not the problem.” Aubrey’s cheeks warmed at his compliment, but there was no time to preen. “The sorbet won’t behave.”
“Could I help?” he asked, taking stock of the island.
Aubrey shooed him away, mumbling to herself. “Maybe I can create a simple syrup with the Moscato. That way the flavor can be intensified.”
She didn’t come up for air until a new batch was spinning in the ice cream maker—kind of like a puppy chasing its tail. Why are desserts so cute?
“Be a good little blob.” She wagged her index finger at the ice cream machine, her expression stern to match her words. Wait a minute. Being bossy wouldn’t get her anywhere. She was, after all, at the mercy of the tail-chasing blob. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be bossy. I’ll say please. Pretty please.”
A hoot of laughter made her jump and scream long and loud. Landon nearly toppled from the stool, startled by her horror queen performance. Was he watching me the entire time? Aubrey patted her hair to make sure it wasn’t a spiky mess. Because having tidy hair will make Landon forget I was talking to the sorbet like an insane person.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize you were here,” she said.
“It’s not the first time. Being completely ignored by a beautiful woman helps build character.” Landon recovered from his near fall and winked at her. “Besides, I wasn’t here the entire time. Come on. Follow me.”
“Where are we going?” She narrowed her eyes at him but didn’t pull away from his gentle hold on her arm.
“Nowhere. Just upstairs,” he said with a smile in his voice.
Only when he led her to her room and took a step inside did she dig her heels in. “Wait a minute. This is my room.”
“Yes, it is.” He gave her a little tug, and she followed him inside, curiosity getting the best of her.
Her hands rose to her chest as she gasped at the sight of her giant bathtub, filled to the rim with snow-white bubbles and surrounded by lavender-scented candles. The smell was enough to make her swoon, but the fact that Landon had drawn a bath for her jellified her bones.
“Oh, Landon,” she whispered. “You did this for me?”
“I thought you might want a break from your sorbet. I could tell how much getting it right was stressing you out. And I only thought it fair to do something in return for the honor of watching a master pastry chef at work.”
“I’m not a chef, much less a master.” But she couldn’t quell the flush of pride warming her cheeks.
“You’re wrong about that.” His voice was soft, but it carried a ring of conviction that made her heart pound against her ribs. “I’ll leave you to your much-deserved bath, then.”
“Landon, wait. You wanna … Could you keep me company?” When his eyebrows burrowed into his hairline, she blushed furiously and waved her hands in the air. “No, no. Not like that. Once I’m in the bath and hidden under all that bubble, you want to stay and chat? It would help take my mind off the disaster waiting for me downstairs.”
What the hell am I doing? It still totally sounded “like that.”
He nodded mutely, licking his lips as though they had gone suddenly dry. She stared at him for a few seconds before he startled. “Uh. Right. I’ll be right outside. Let me know when it’s safe to come in.”
Looking over her shoulder as though Landon was about to burst through the door without warning, Aubrey quickly stripped out of her clothes and stuffed them into the laundry bin. Then she rushed back to the tub and lowered herself into it. Mmm. She couldn’t hold back her moan of bliss.
“What was that?” said Landon’s muffled voice.
Her eyes widened, recalling the situation she’d put herself in. “Umm. I’m ready.”
The door swung open the second the words left her mouth, and Landon hefted in an ottoman from her sitting area like it weighed nothing. So. Hot. Her body warmed in ways not related to the heat of the bath, but she snapped herself back to attention. It wasn’t about their attraction. It was about their friendship. Friends talked, and she’d been enjoying her conversation with him too much for it to end. That was all.
She cleared her throat and talked all friendly, like. “I’m perfectly content with being a small-town baker, you know.”
“Content? That’s a loaded word.” His gaze shot to her face. “Some people search for a lifetime never finding it. Twenty-seven is hardly a lifetime.”
His eyes darted to her shoulders above the bubbles and then down the length of her body to the toes peeping out at the other end of the tub. Until then, he’d been staring at his hands, which were clasped between his knees. Aubrey bit the inside of her cheek to keep a satisfied smile from touching her lips. Friendship? What friendship? Her mind was doing so many flip-flops, her eyes swam.
Landon coughed, swallowed, and cleared his throat, and did it all over again before he continued. “How could you be certain you don’t want more?”
Aubrey hesitated. His question touched a nerve, resonating deep within her. Am I content with my life as Weldon’s favorite baker? She had been, but now she wasn’t at all certain. With a suddenness that stole her breath, a gaggle of dark-haired, brown-eyed munchkins skipped across her heart. A life with Landon. No. She shook her head so hard the beautiful children ping-ponged around in her head and disappeared.
“It’d be nice to travel the world again. I would love to explore Asia and experience the different flavors, smells, textures, and colors of each country. It would help me continue to grow as a baker.” She forced her mind to focus on work so she could ignore the aching loneliness and the longing for more he’d ignited in her.
“You should. Why box yourself in when you have limitless potential?” Landon cocked his head and regarded her thoughtfully. “Wanting more isn’t a bad thing. Not always. You should want more. Have more.”
“Maybe.”
She’d been working for hours, thanks to the sorbet crisis, and exhaustion engulfed her. Closing her eyes, Aubrey rolled her bunched-up shoulders and massaged her neck with one hand.
“Turn around.” Landon stood and approached her.
She should’ve said “No, thank you,” but Aubrey was too sore and tired to argue. She turned in the tub and offered him her back, gathering more bubbles to ensure her girls weren’t visible. His hands were strong and warm against her, and she moaned deep in her throat as he worked out a stubborn knot. It hurts so good.
Landon stilled behind her at the sound and then blew out a slow breath. When he resumed his gentle ministrations, the tenor of his touch had changed. Her body’s response was instantaneous. Aubrey pressed back into him and shivered when his hands slid up and down her wet, slick arms.
With her heart slamming against her rib cage, Aubrey turned to face him and held his hot gaze. She couldn’t think straight, but she wanted this. She wanted this so much. Landon lowered his head and she leaned toward him, her hands lifting to his hair and her lips parting in anticipation.
The chime of the doorbell jarred Aubrey out of her trance, and she hid back under the bubbles with a sharp gasp. Landon didn’t budge and continued to hold her gaze. She shut her eyes and stopped breathing.
Saved by the bell.
She didn’t dare look at him. If he chose that moment to flash the Smile at her, she would drag him into the tub fully clothed and have her way with him.
“I’ll get that,” Landon said after a moment’s hesitation.
Aubrey nodded, lowering her lashes to hide her eyes from him. If it weren’t for the rapid rise and fall of her magnificent breasts—or the bubbles covering them—and the rosy blush on her cheeks, he might’ve believed he’d imagined the moment.
He stalked to the front door, grumbling under his breath as he pushed up his wet sleeves. Aria and Lucien stood outside with their arms loaded with brown paper bags. Landon itched to slam the door on their clueless, grinning faces.
“Great timing,” he said dryly.
Aria rolled her eyes and pushed past him, but Lucien cringed, scratching the back of his head.
“Did we interrupt something? I insisted we call first, but Aria … Well, you know Aria. I think her exact words were, ‘Oh, poof.’”
“I know her all too well,” Landon said, stepping outside. He needed a moment to collect himself after seeing Aubrey nearly naked. “Come on. Let’s take a walk before dinner.”
Lucien gave him a sideways glance as he easily matched Landon’s long strides. “You okay? You looked crazed when you opened the door for us. Something wrong with the production?”
“No. Nothing’s wrong. I’m perfectly fine.”
“Hmm. If you insist,” his friend said while his expression called bullshit.
Landon raked his fingers through his damp hair as they veered onto the small path that led into the wooded hills. He nearly groaned when his body hardened again, remembering how it had gotten wet. Her naked arms had felt like warm silk under his hands, and the bubbles had clung to her breasts like seashells on a mermaid. A strategic breath from him would’ve dislodged the tenacious foam. He had to walk off his hard-on if he wanted to return to the villa. He didn’t want to leave Aubrey alone with Aria for too long.
“How are things with you and Aria?” Landon said. “Are you still being a stubborn ass?”
“There’s nothing going on between us, and I’ve been a stubborn ass for forty-seven years. I have no incentive to change at my ripe old age.”
“You’re exhausting, do you know that? If you shut Aria out, you’ll regret it for the next forty-seven years. The tragedy is she’ll hurt right along with you. If it comes to that, I’ll beat you to a pulp. She’s my best friend, man.”
Lucien replied with something between a groan and a scoff. A cop-out. He knew Landon was right.
By the time they walked into the kitchen, the women were in deep conversation. Based on her crinkled nose and wildly gesticulating hands, Aubrey was probably relaying her frustrating attempts to make Moscato sorbet.
“Well, one thing’s obvious,” Aria said, “you’ve been at it too long. Let’s have loads of delicious food and fabulous wine and not spend a single minute thinking about work.”
“How’s that even possible?” Aubrey laughed. “Food is your work.”
“Oh, poof.”
Aria covered the dining table with a board of savory charcuterie—a slice of jamón ibérico was calling Landon’s name—and several excellent cheeses, a harmonious mix of soft and creamy, sharp and pungent, and hard and nutty varieties. Ripe, late-summer berries and juicy, deep orange cantaloupes added splashes of color to the white tablecloth. Aria set down fresh, colorful salads, one after the other—curried Israeli couscous; balsamic-glazed arugula and strawberry salad; and pear, goat cheese, and walnut salad. It was Aria’s signature feast.
“Did you and Lucien clean out the delicatessen?” Landon reached for a spear of truffle gouda, but Aria slapped his hand away and made a fist in his face. “Fine. I’ll wait.”
Aubrey giggled at his side, and he raised an eyebrow at her. “Amused, are we?”
Ridiculously aware he was showing off, he swiped a fig from the table and held it up as his trophy. He tossed the ripe bundle into the air, intending to catch it deftly in his mouth, but Aubrey’s hand shot out and intercepted it. With a smug grin, she bit into the fruit and then licked the sticky juice from her lips. Landon’s breath caught in his throat, and blood rushed south.
Does she have any idea of the effect she has on me?
By the playful twinkle in her eyes, she had no clue how sexy she looked eating that fig. Only when he grabbed her wrist and brought the other half to his mouth did her eyes widen with awareness. He was careful not to let his lips touch her fingers because that would’ve sent him over the edge. But Aubrey’s lashes fluttered as a shiver ran through her, and he reached out to throw her on the table.
“Should we start with one bottle, or should I just open all three?” Lucien’s musings pulled Landon out of his lust haze. Barely.
“All of them.” He badly needed a drink. He turned on his heels and strode to the kitchen. “I’ll get the glasses.”
Aria shot him a narrow-eyed glance. His voice probably sounded as strangled as he felt. He’d nearly ravished Aubrey on the dining table. In front of his friends. He would be shocked if he sounded normal.
Even his complete loss of control didn’t douse his desire, and the effort it took to not ogle at Aubrey nearly gave him an aneurysm. It wasn’t until they were well into their second bottle of wine that Landon trusted himself to look her way.
Her head was thrown back in full-throttle laughter at something Aria was saying. Her eyes were scrunched shut, and little ridges formed at the bridge of her nose. She was radiant. Landon chugged another glass of wine.
Everyone was coaxed into a languid mood, and happiness laced through the idyllic evening. Landon finally allowed himself to relax. His wine-addled brain reasoned that he’d had it all wrong from the beginning.
Of course we could make love to each other. It wouldn’t ruin their careers because no one would know. He would have her—their attraction couldn’t be fought—but he would protect her by keeping their affair a secret. Simple.
Weeks of frustration released its death grip from his lungs. Leaning back against his chair, Landon watched Aria for a few seconds as she sipped her third glass of wine. Then, he brought his lips to Aubrey’s ear.
“I think she’s ready.”
“Ready for what?” Aubrey whispered.
“Just watch and enjoy.” He grinned and turned to the other side of the table and did his best impression of a medieval king. “The night is young, and we must have music.”
“Absolument. We must have the greatest of all music.” Lucien joined in without hesitation, winking at Aubrey. “Opera.”
“Idiots, both of you.” Aria rolled her eyes and leaned toward Aubrey. “They think they can make me perform like a parrot whenever I get tipsy. But I’m far from tipsy tonight.”
“Will flattery work, then?” Landon said. “Signorina Santini, your sublime voice will make us mortals weep and the heavenly angels sigh.”
“Your voice is as beautiful as you are, ma chérie. It’s indeed a gift from God,” Lucien said, grasping Aria’s hand to shower it with adoring kisses. She laughed and slapped at the Frenchman’s shoulder.
“I’d love to hear you sing.” Aubrey’s soft request was shy but sincere.
“Fine. It’s a democracy, no? Three to one means I must sing.” Aria smiled at Aubrey but narrowed her eyes at Landon and Lucien. “Pick a song for me.”
“How about ‘Un bel dì vedremo’ from Madame Butterfly?” Lucien suggested.
“Well, I guess you can never go wrong with Puccini.” Aria shrugged, giving in with a grin. “It’s one of my favorite pieces. It pushes at a mezzo’s range, but I love to sing it.”
Landon caught Aubrey’s hand in his and smiled. “Now let’s enjoy the fruit of our efforts.”