What Love Tastes Like. Zuri Day
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was furrowed slightly, and Tiffany took in the perfect arch of his thick, black eyebrows and the long, curly lashes that framed the bedroom eyes that had melted her in the airplane aisle. Before she could stop herself, her eyes traveled over his broad shoulders, down his strong back, stopping at his nicely rounded derriere before continuing to peruse a set of sprinter’s legs and big feet that hinted at the promise of…
Promise of what? Tiffany mentally shook herself and hurried away from the window. The air had suddenly grown heavy and she found it hard to breathe. Where is Tuffy? In that moment she realized it wasn’t her teddy bear, but the bear of a man on the other side of the room that she’d rather hug and squeeze right now. And just as quickly, she extinguished the thought. While she hadn’t seen a ring on his finger, she was sure nonetheless that he belonged to somebody—maybe several somebodies. She thought of Joy, her best friend, and figured she was more the type of woman Nick would go after. Joy was a Tyra Banks type: tall, beautiful, long hair courtesy of European and Native grandparents instead of a weave, and confident beyond belief. And here she was, Tiffany, looking for an old-ass teddy bear! Get your head out of the clouds, Tiffany! Janice Matthews’s voice rang in her head. Her mother was right, and Tiffany decided to obey her.
“Look, I’m going to—”
“Would you like to join me—”
Nick and Tiffany spoke at once, both silently aware that somehow, surreptitiously, the atmosphere between them had shifted.
“I—I was just going to thank you again for everything you’ve done, and then take a shower and lie down. It’s been a long day.”
“Surely it has, but aren’t you hungry?” Nick knew that while there was food service in coach, it was nothing like first class.
“Not really.”
Tiffany’s stomach chose that exact moment to become vocal, and a loud, sustained growl emanated from its core. The sound of this base bodily function chased away the discomfort they both felt—brought about by unsolicited and unwelcome thoughts.
Tiffany’s eyes went wide with embarrassment. How dared her body betray her, sounding common in front of this classy man and calling her a liar with pronounced vigor. “Ooh, excuse me!” she muttered, even as she pressed a hand against her flat stomach, mentally daring it to speak again.
Nick’s laugh was deep and unfettered. “You may not be hungry, but your stomach is. Join me for dinner. I’m going to one of my favorite restaurants and I detest dining alone.” Actually, Nick was quite comfortable eating solo, and once through the doors of AnticaPesa, he was rarely alone for long. But he felt not one twinge of guilt playing the sympathy card to get Tiffany’s agreement to be his dinner date. Something about her hesitation—and again, that flash of trepidation quickly replaced by resolve—made him want to be the one who relaxed her, who helped her feel comfortable in what was for her a strange, new place.
Thirty minutes later they were on their way to fine dining in the center of Rome. The slight discomfort returned, and was reflected in their silence as they waited on the chauffeur. Tiffany tried to still the nervousness combined with physical need that sprung up as soon as she walked from her bedroom to the living room. Nick was there, standing in front of the window, talking on the phone. It gave her a moment to behold him in all his glory: dressed casually in a black silk pullover and black pants. Joy would probably know the designer, Tiffany thought as she stopped and sipped the sight of him like one would a tumbler of fine brandy. Even with her lack of knowledge of all things fashion, Tiffany was sure the outfit had been tailor made. There’s no way that any piece of clothing could come off the rack and fit that perfectly. She forced herself from the hall into the main living area and thanked her best friend for forcing her to pack the jersey dress she now wore.
“Joy Lynn Parsons! You know you shouldn’t have gone shopping for me! How much did this cost you?”
“Don’t worry about it. Just make sure it ends up in your suitcase.”
“Look, my days will be spent in the kitchen and my nights will be spent in bed, alone. This is a crash course in upscale Italian cuisine, girl. I’m not going to have the time or place to wear something like this.”
Joy had rolled her eyes. “Didn’t your daddy ever tell you to always be like the Boy Scouts—prepared?”
“Sure. As long as I was preparing myself for something he wanted me to do.”
“Well, these gifts to you are because of what I want, which is for you to stop being so serious and single-minded, and remember to have a good time.” With that, Joy had reached into another bag and pulled out a pair of jewel-toned, strappy sandals.
“Girl, I don’t wear stuff like this!” It was true. Tiffany was more likely to be found in cotton tops and jeans.
“You will in Rome. Who knows? You might star in your own Kiki series and become a rich man’s wifey.”
“Who’s Kiki?”
“Kiki Swinson.”
“Is that somebody at Randall’s job?”
“Fool, this woman is far from working at UPS with my husband. She’s a bestselling author!”
“Oh, please, you and your book addiction. Those fairy-tale endings only happen in fiction.”
“And sometimes life imitates art,” Joy fired back.
“Well, even if Kiki writes about a rich man who works in a kitchen, I’m sure my story’s ending will differ from the one you read.”
“No, you’ll have to navigate the world of thugs and drugs to be in her story.”
“Like I said, fiction isn’t fact.” Tiffany dangled the shoes in front of her, turning them this way and that, frowning as if what she held were foreign objects. “You need to take these shoes and stuff back to the store and get a refund,” she said somberly.
“Tiffany, you’re my best friend in the world, but as God is my witness, I’m going to beat your ass with those stilettos if you don’t stop acting ungrateful!”
The women laughed and continued joking around as Tiffany tried on the outfit and modeled it for Joy. Her friend’s taste was excellent and the choices spot on. The dress, which stopped a couple inches above the knee, spotlighted Tiffany’s assets and hit her curves in all the right places. The sandals not only gave Tiffany height, but accented surprisingly long legs for someone so short. Tiffany looked gorgeous in the outfit.
Nick felt Tiffany’s eyes on him and turned slowly, the words he was about to say to one of his partners dying on his lips. His eyes narrowed as he gazed upon the vision in front of him.
“Nick? Buddy, are you still there?”
“Let’s touch base tomorrow,” Nick said into the phone. He disconnected the call without waiting for a reply.
Tiffany’s nerves increased under his intense perusal. Had she chosen the wrong outfit? Was this too dressy for where they were going? Was it too much, did it suggest something that she hadn’t intended? Why does he keep staring at me without saying anything?
“I can change if this isn’t appropriate,” she blurted, suddenly feeling like the little girl who’d chagrined her father, which, with her choices, had often been the case.
“It’s perfect,” Nick breathed. He was trying to rein in feelings and emotions that had no place in this room, in this city, with this woman. It had been easier with the teddy-bear clutching girl in jeans; the task would be much harder with this sexy vixen with the hourglass figure he wanted to sculpt with his hands.
Once they were settled in the town car, Nick forced his thoughts away from how good Tiffany looked in the satiny dress she wore and turned them toward those good for casual conversation. After all, it would be another fifteen minutes before they reached their destination.
“I know this is your first trip to Europe, but have you ever been out of the States?”