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A blush rose to her cheeks, and Jacob sat Sasha down. She and Jack watched each other for a second, then took off through the corridor, playfully antagonizing one another.

“Your home is beautiful. I thought I had the wrong place for a minute.”

His dimples deepened when he smiled.

“Thank you, and why did you think you had the wrong place?”

“I have no idea.”

They laughed.

“I was taken back, I think. I don’t know what I was expecting. Maybe for your home to match some of the others I saw on the way. But this is vastly different.”

He slid his hand down her back and guided her softly down the corridor. The interior was just as gorgeous, if not more so than the exterior.

Flush walnut trim cased the walls. Walnut doors and reglet detailing outlined the frame while an ornamental iron staircase wrapped from the first floor to a story beyond her sight.

High ceilings, crystal chandeliers, and dim lighting inside contemporary wall sconces set the tone of his abode. However, the clean-lined black and gray furniture, sofas, and walnut bar chairs spoke with clear authority.

Plainly put, Jacob’s home was the crème de la crème.

“I’m glad you like the place. I spent the better part of a year coming up with the schematics.” They paused in the state-of-the-art kitchen. “At times, I still feel something is missing.” He dropped his gaze to her. “Or someone.”

A soft smile tugged at the corner of Carla’s lips. Jacob sat the bag on the counter.

“There’s wine in that bag if you’d like to put it on ice,” she said.

A long brow rose on his flawless face. “Are you trying to get me drunk,bellissima?”

Laughter bubbled from her gut and flew off her tongue.

“Not at first, but now that you mention it…”

His smile caught up with her laugh, and he shook his head.

Carla ogled him as his muscular physique tightened and stretched while he moved around the kitchen. He appeared so comfortable. Not because he was in his home but with her, like they were two longtime friends who knew each other from years past.

It felt good to her, too. Lovely, like relaxing on a beach with a cool breeze and a mai tai.

“Stella Rosa Peach Moscato.” He read the label on the wine. “This would be perfect with a shot of Patrón.”

Carla laughed. “You and that Patrón.”

“What?” He turned to eye her.

“You had it in the club, more than once. I didn’t see you with anything else. I’m starting to think it’s all you drink.”

He smirked. “I drink water.”

She laughed, and he thought for another minute.

“I drink Gatorade when I’m exercising like we’re going to do.”

Her laughter evaporated, setting off a guffaw from Jacob.

“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

“Kinda.” He winked and poured Carla a glass of wine, adding a shot of Patrón to a short glass on ice.