I point a carrot at him. “Searching, then stalking. Then kidnapping.”
“Minor details.” He sips from his glass of chianti.
I laugh. It’s the first time Stone has said something funny, twisted as it may be. For the first time, a genuine smile curves his lips. I swear the patio grows silent as I get lost in those sexy-as-sin eyes and the beautiful lips that promise they can make me forget all about my troubles.
It’s too much. Too powerful. If one little smile can make my panties get in a twist, chances are he can do things to me I’ve only dreamed about getting from my book boyfriends. I’m in big trouble. I see the heat in his eyes, and I have no doubt he notices how my nipples harden in response.
Even though his gaze hasn’t dipped lower than my mouth, he can tell. Hell, he could tell I was wet for him an hour ago without even touching me. Well, without touching me there.
Needing to break the spell, I hold my wine glass close to my chest and sit back in my chair. “Okay, tell me more about Rocco ‘Stone’ Parlatore. When you’re not stalking and kidnapping, what else do you do for fun?”
And just like that the chemistry is gone. Back is the serious man who hides behind hooded eyes, harsh words, and fancy suits.
“I have no time for fun.”
“That’s not the kind of man I’d marry. Father Paul Michael will see that about me. What is it we do when you’re not busy doing your secret mission mafia stuff?”
“I’m not in the mafia,” he bites out under his breath.
Okay. I touched a sore spot there. “You have mafia vibes.” Buttons. Pushed. It’s the only way to get him to open up.
“I’m. Not. Mafia.”
“That’s good.” I finish the wine and set the empty glass down. “I’d never marry into the mafia. Our priest would see that too.”
Stone’s shoulders are stiff, as are the lines in his face.
I lean forward and nudge my vegetable platter toward him. “You know that rod I was telling your cousin about? It’s back. Have some broccoli. It’s high in fiber.”
He angles his head slightly to the left. Yay! A sign of life.
“Lighten up, dude. You’re causing a scene. Eat something besides cheese. It’s binding.” I can’t believe I just said that, but it did the trick. It isn’t a full-fledged grin, but the eyebrow quirk and the corner of his lips lift for half a second. Maybe less.
“I enjoy running.” He pushes the plate back to me.
“For real?”
He narrows his eyes before picking up his glass again. “For real.”
“I do too. Maybe some morning we can run the trails around here. I assume you have running trails?”
“I have a treadmill in my gym.”
“You have a gym? I wouldn’t know because my host is a rude bastardo and makes me go exploring on my own.”
Stone does his sniff laugh thing and rests his elbows on the table. Such improper manners for the polished suit. Another point for me.
“It’s in the pool house.”
“You have a pool? How did I miss that?”
“And a jacuzzi,” he adds, the heat returning to his gaze.
“Tell me you have a movie theater and that’ll be how you win my eternal love. Father Paul Michael will absolutely give us his blessing if you promise me a pool and a theater.”
A third chuckle in less than an hour. It is nice to see Stone loosen up, especially if I have to spend the next two years with him.
“It’s not a theater, but I have a large screen, a state-of-the-art surround sound system, and reclining seats.
“Microwave popcorn and root beer floats?”
“Root beer floats?”
“Mama and I discovered them when living in Tennessee. They’re amazing. Trust me.”
His smile softens. “I do, Gia.”