Page 55 of Let It Breathe (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #1)

“I hate it when that happens.” Jenna reached for a piece of cheese.

She chewed thoughtfully, then took another sip of wine.

“It’s just as well. As a terrorist spy, I would have been forced to report any illicit activity to the government, and the next thing you know, the senator’s face would be plastered all over CNN. ”

“No, not CNN,” Adam said, keeping his eyes on her face as he unbuttoned his cuffs and began to roll up his shirtsleeves. “In addition to being a sought-after gigolo, I’m also a billionaire media mogul who owns most of the major news outlets around the world.”

“You don’t say.”

He nodded and picked up his glass again, taking a careful sip of wine as he forced himself to hold a serious expression. “Yep. CNN, NBC, ABC, CBS—they’re all mine.”

“BS?”

“That one, too. Also all the newspapers and magazines in the world. I write all the articles for most of them. Very tedious work.”

“Good job on last month’s Cosmo cover story on finding your G-spot with a golf club and a pair of stilettos.”

“Thanks. I initially planned it for Sports Illustrated , but we couldn’t get Arnold Palmer to wear the stilettos.”

“Maybe for next year’s swimsuit issue,” she said. “I just turned down the opportunity to pose for the cover, so I know they’re looking for someone.”

Adam snapped his fingers in mock recognition as his brain flashed on an image of Jenna in a bikini.

“That’s right! I thought I recognized you as an international supermodel.

I saw your GQ cover last month, and I really love that photo spread you did for the Journal of Mutation Research and Genetic Toxicology . ”

“Shh!” she said, bringing a finger to her lips. “It’s part of my cover as an international terrorist. Don’t tell.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

She crossed her legs under the table again, and Adam tried not to stare.

The supermodel thing wasn’t so off base.

God, she had amazing legs. He wondered what her real profession was, then decided he’d rather not know.

There was something to be said for the thrill of reinventing oneself.

He sipped the last of his wine and signaled the waitress for another.

“This wine is really good,” he said. “Fruitier than I was expecting. Seems like something you’d drink with a good pork loin, maybe.”

Her delicate brows arched. “Very perceptive of you. Pork and pinot get paired together a lot. There’s a local chef, Meg Delaney?

” She paused like he might know the name, but he didn’t.

“Her catering company has an entire specialty menu where she pairs different Oregon pinots with various pork dishes. Things like bacon-wrapped apricots served with pinot from the Amity Hills region or slices of pork loin braised in a pinot reduction.”

“I’ll have to check it out.” He admired her knowledge of food and wine. “You also work as a sommelier when you’re not spying for the Russians and posing for Vogue ?”

“No, I own ninety percent of the vineyards in the world. I stomp all the grapes myself.”

“No wonder you have such great legs.”

She grinned and sipped the last of her wine. The waitress paused at the table to ask if she wanted another glass, and Jenna nodded.

“Just half a glass, though.”

“A full glass for me, thank you,” Adam said. “I have to catch up.”

He turned back to Jenna, who was nibbling a piece of cheese. “Try the prosciutto. It’s really good.”

“This brie is amazing.” She smeared some on a cracker, then looked up at him. “So how about you?”

“I don’t know that I’d call myself amazing, but I try.”

She laughed and bit into her cracker. “No, I mean when you’re not gigolo-ing for politicians and writing Cosmo quizzes, what sort of hobbies do you have?”

“Ah, I have a diverse range of talents and interests.” He combed his brain to come up with some. “I crochet office furniture, train and breed fighting beetles, and make abstract potato art. Maybe you’ve seen one of my gallery shows?”

“Yes, I think so.” She took a sip from her new glass. “I must’ve run across it in the Ashmolean when I was at Oxford earning my doctorate in aromatherapy.”

“Was this before or after you attended ninja training camp?”

“Before the ninja thing, but after I won the Ultimate Fighting Championships by strangling a man with my thighs.”

“Good skillset for an international spy.”

She reached for a piece of prosciutto and Adam tried not to get distracted by the delicate fingers and the lovely, fine bones in her wrist. Whoever this woman really was, she had beautiful hands. He shifted in his seat and kicked over his briefcase, which landed with a smack on the tile floor.

Jenna looked at it, then back at him. “Good thing you didn’t have a bomb in there.”

He righted the briefcase with his toe and swirled the wine in his glass. “What makes you think I don’t?”

“Secret spy sense. Also, I’m telepathic. I can read your mind.”

“Oh yeah?” He took a drink of his wine, surprised to realize he’d nearly drained the glass. He wasn’t tipsy—not by a long shot—but he did feel bolder. More daring.

He smiled at Jenna and watched something spark in her eyes.

“Okay, then,” he said, holding her gaze as he leaned toward her over the table. “What am I thinking now?”

She paused, looking hesitant. Something about her posture and the primness of her dress suggested this flirty banter wasn’t her usual fare. His ego did an absurd fist pump at the thought of it.

Seeming to decide something, she ran a finger over the rim of her glass and leaned toward him across the table. “I have to say, I’m a little shocked by your thoughts. Well, shocked and intrigued.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, your thoughts are rather ... explicit .”

Adam smiled as something surged from his brain to his lower extremities. “Guilty as charged.”

“You are a gigolo, so I suppose it goes with the territory. Still, I wasn’t aware your services extended to strange women you’d only just met in a bar.”

“I’m an equal-opportunity gigolo.”

“I see.” Her finger made a slow journey around the rim of the wineglass, circling one way, then the other. Adam felt his mouth begin to water.

“What do you normally charge for your gigolo-ing?” she asked, her tone casual as her eyes slid to her phone again. It was face down, so she wasn’t checking messages, and it crossed Adam’s mind to ask about the neon pink card she’d tucked there.

But instinct told him to stick with the subject at hand. “First round of gigolo service is on the house. I’m toying with the idea of a buy-one-get-one-free coupon in Ladies’ Home Journal .”

“Very sensible of you. A gigolo with marketing skills.”

“And telepathic powers. Did I mention I can read minds as well?”

She looked up at him through her lashes, her fingertip poised on the rim of her glass. “Oh? So what am I thinking now?”

Adam swallowed, hoping like hell he was reading this right. Hoping he hadn’t misjudged this whole flirtation and the signals she seemed to be sending. He lowered his voice and leaned closer. “You’re thinking the same damn thing I am.”

She nodded and licked her lips. “I’ll get my coat.”