Page 48 of Indulging Temptation (Tempting the Heart #1)

She’s here to fix me, not service my needs, but when she’s around I find myself in a weird limbo of being happy and content, consequences be damned.

That’s where we differ, though. Where impulse is my default, it’s not to her.

Control. Poise. That’s her go-to. Even when she runs that mouth of hers, she has this uncanny ability of telling someone where to go and how to get there, slurs and all, that sounds so justified. So. Fucking. Sexy.

Lorena glances at me, as if for permission to speak.

I lean back in my chair, wine glass in hand, and I bring it to my lips to take a sip, nodding my head for her to go ahead, even though she doesn’t need an ounce of my permission for a damn thing.

“Well, I guess I’ll start with the last part. I’ve known Tino for a long time, he and his brother are my brother Tomás’ best friends.”

“Ooh, brother’s best friend,” Chef Caiazzo’s wife, Mara, says. “I like it.” She giggles, leaning forward, and rubbing her husband’s arm.

He looks at her with such warmth. Like she’s the only woman in the room. Honestly, it mirrors the way I look at Lorena.

“You’re too much,” he says to his wife with a smile, before addressing everyone at the table. “My wife has a thing for romance novels.”

“Yes, I do. And a brother’s best friend trope.” She stops to dramatically hum. “Gets me every time. Mix in the power dynamic of working together? Pure heaven.”

Now everyone is laughing at the table, me and Lorena included.

“We actually know someone who is a romance author, G.E. García,” Lorena says.

“Oh, I’ll have to remember their pen name!” Mara exclaims.

Moving on from the topic of books, Lorena dives back into the other questions Chef Caiazzo had asked.

She goes on to say how she lived in Miami, briefly, thankfully skipping over the incident at the club, and then does a great Tomás impression when he told her she basically had no choice but to become my temporary publicist. But it’s the temporary part that gets me.

Both the reminder of it, and the fact that she said it out loud.

“What’s next after you're done with Tino?” Mara asks.

Ouch. Done with Tino. I fucking despise the way that sounds…in any context concerning Lorena.

The hesitation on her face is unmissable. I can tell she doesn’t want to answer. Clearly not wanting me to know what her plans are, but now I’m dying to hear them, so I can know what I’m up against to get her to alter them.

“Not sure. I’ve had a few business ideas I’ve been throwing around. There’s also an agency I’ve been considering working for in L.A.”

L.A.? Los Angeles? What? Why? That’s so far.

And I thought Miami was bad. At least that was a three-hour flight.

But L.A. is six hours, double the time. I don’t like this.

Not one bit. Or that this is the first I’m hearing about it.

We work so well together. Chef Caiazzo said it himself.

He can freaking sense our connection. I knew Tomás intended for this to be temporary, but I really thought, once she came around to it — came around to me — she’d change her mind.

And once again a wall comes down and even more come right back up with her.

“I still have some time to figure it out.” As Lorena says it and the conversation moves on, back to books, with someone else mentioning a scene with a bone or something that they couldn’t get out of their head from an erotic horror they read recently.

I didn’t even know that’s a thing, but judging by how engrossed everyone is by the topic, it is.

Lorena stares at me with an unreadable expression in her eyes.

Sorry, maybe?

Oops, didn’t mean to say that, perhaps?

I have no clue, but what I do know is, I can’t let her think I’ll let her go that easily.

I can’t, not when I finally feel happy.

I know it’s stupid. Pathetic actually. Happy? With what, crumbs? Yes. She gives me crumbs and somehow still satiates a hunger inside of me I always knew was there, but didn’t realize was that strong.

She finishes her wine before excusing herself to the bathroom.

Every fiber of my being is fighting with myself internally, urging me to stay and converse with everyone.

To not follow her. To stay and do what Lorena has been wanting me to do from day one…

to behave. But my mind and heart are racing simultaneously.

And the prospect of behaving myself is feeling more and more like it’s about to go out the window.

The water glass in front of me is refilled by a server. The stainless-steel pitcher clacks as huge square ice cubes flow from it first with the water following. I thank the server and grasp the glass, taking a sip.

We’ve already had dinner, now everyone is talking and hanging out.

I should jump into one of the conversations around me, but I can’t.

And the more I sip my water and chew the ice in the cup, the more I know that I can’t just sit here.

I can’t sit still and sit with the knowledge that Lorena is considering a possible move to Los Angeles.

A move so soon after she moved back home to New York.

I know what I’m about to do is stupid, but this need I have to convince her to stay in New York — to stay with me — is so strong, there’s no stopping me. Not even if I tried.

I grab my wallet and get up from the table.

Chef Caiazzo notices. “Heading out so soon?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Disappointment floods his sigh.

“Ah, too bad, the tiramisu is to die for here.”

“Next time, Chef.” I walk over and shake his hand, before going to hand him cash.

He lifts his palm in resistance. “Absolutely not. My treat. Tell Lorena it was a pleasure to meet her.”

“I will,” I respond, nodding up towards the glass ceiling above us where she went, and where I plan on telling her just how much of a pleasure she truly is.