Page 51 of Making Over Maris

Chapter Nine

God. He’d tasted good.

Sara shivered as she gazed at Jack across the table.

After the tryst in the hot tub, he’d dried her off and wrapped her in his fluffy robe. He’d donned a pair of sweats and made her a delicious dinner, which they ate at a filigreed table on the patio, looking out over the Valley. She loved staring at his naked chest. It was fascinating, sprinkled as it was with dark curling hair. They shared an amazing bottle of Malbec, although no matter how much Sara teased, Jack refused to have more than one glass.

She didn’t mind. Because that meant she could have the rest.

They didn’t talk about what had happened in the hot tub but they didn’t need to. Sara could see it, there in his eyes, whenever he glanced at her.

And that gratitude, that warmth, stirred her arousal.

Made her think.

After the disaster with Todd, she’d sworn—sworn—she’d never try that thing again. But the way Jack had salivated over those pictures in the gallery made her want to try again. Emboldened her perhaps.

But she wasn’t stupid. She’d thought Todd had been into that too.

She’d been wrong.

So wrong.

She knew this time she’d have to test the waters. Make sure she hadn’t gotten her signals crossed. This time she’d have to take it slow. Ease into it.

Not burst into a room wearing latex and cracking a whip.

In retrospect, she supposed most men might find that alarming—

She jumped as Ding landed on her lap with no warning. The breath came out of her in an oof. “Jack. Your cat is fat.”

“He’s not fat. He’s healthy.”

“Seriously? That was like having a goat leap onto my lap.”

“Stop it. You’ll offend him.” Jack dropped his voice an octave and added, “You wouldn’t like him when he’s angry.”

Ding edged closer to her plate and sniffed.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Jack came around and lifted the tabby off her lap. He picked up a piece of salmon skin and fed it to the very happy feline.

Sara laughed. “You’re feeding him salmon skin?”

“He likes it.” Jack winked. “He likes bacon too.” He dropped the cat on the floor and then set his plate down next to him. Though only scraps remained, the cat tore into it.

Sara shook her head. “No wonder he’s fat.”

“He’s not fat,” Jack said and dropped back into his seat. “He’s happy. Look at him.”

“He’s fat and happy.” She patted her tummy. “Me too. Dinner was delicious.”

“Thanks.” A very pleasant silence descended as they gazed out at the lights below. Then he refilled her glass. But only halfway. She took the bottle from him and finished the job. He grinned. “So, Sara…did you like our date this afternoon?”

“Oh. I did.” She also liked that he’d given her a perfect opening to bring up the topic she’d been thinking about earlier. “I liked the landscapes. It was quite solicitous of you to think of that.” She nibbled her lip. “You…did do that on purpose, didn’t you?”

He huffed. “Of course. I picked that gallery because that photographer took the same kind of pictures you do.”

She took a sip of wine. Her heart warmed. “I also enjoyed the third floor.” She tipped her head to the side. “Did you, Jack?”