listened into the phone. “Fine. I’ll come back tonight, but I’m going to a hotel. No. Absolutely not. Hotel, period. End of discussion. Whichever one I want to stay in, that’s where!” Another pause, and then, “Go to hell, horseman.” She ended the call and tossed her phone on the table.
“What’s all the yelling about?” Joe strode into the room, looking incredibly sexy in his jeans and bare feet. Amanda’s mouth watered as he ran his fingers through his wet hair.
“Sam was talking to Caleb.”
“Ah.” As if that was all that was needed to explain the yelling. “I don’t know about you girls, but I’m not drinking wine. How about something a little stronger to warm your bellies?”
* * * *
Dinner wasn’t quite the disaster Amanda thought it would be. She and Sam sat at the table while Joe informed them that, yes, even he could boil water. Sam had brought in a bottle of rum and offered to share. Amanda and Joe declined, opting for beer instead. Amanda had no intention of getting drunk tonight. She wanted to be at full capacity for whatever Joe had planned for her. If the looks he kept sending her way were any indication, it was going to be good.
His cell phone rang, surprising her. He glanced at it and with a terse “Excuse me, ladies,” he was gone. It was the first time since she’d known him that it had rung. It made her curious. Curious about his life. About who’d be calling him. If it was a woman that was calling him. Thoughts like that could drive a girl nuts.
“I hope Italiano for dinner works for both of you,” he said as he sauntered back into the kitchen a few minutes later, entertaining them with his best Italian accent. “It’s about all I can do.” He gave no indication as to the conversation he’d just had.
“How did you learn to do that so well?” Sam asked.
“Cook pasta?”
“No, smart-ass. The accent.”
“It’s sexy,” Amanda threw in before she could slam her mouth shut. Joe gave her a look that would melt the clothes off a saint.
“Uh, guys?” Sam waved her hand in front of Amanda’s face. “Company, remember?”
Amanda swigged from her beer and smirked. “Can you blame me? I mean … look at him.” She gestured in his direction with her bottle. She blocked her mouth with her hand so Joe wouldn’t see. “Isn’t he fantastic?” she mouthed to Sam, happy they were okay after her stellar performance of a jealous bitch.
Sam giggled back at her. “So, Mr. Hot Stuff—”
“Name’s Joe. Not ‘Mr. Hot Stuff,’” he grumbled, which just set off another round of giggles from Sam.
“The accent?”
He shrugged. “Spent some time in Italy a few years back.”
“What on earth were you doing in Italy?”
Joe gave Sam a droll stare. “Shopping.”
“Riiiight,” she said as she winked at Amanda. “Shopping. I’ll bet you bought the greatest shoes, didn’t you?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “No shoes, but I got a great pair of boots I can introduce you to.”
She laughed again. “I like him, Amanda. He’s got spunk.”
“I like him too,” Amanda said with way more feeling than she’d intended. Oops. She noted the curious way Joe stared at her before turning back to the stove.
“I met this old Italian woman in Trieste who took pity on me,” he said. “I think she thought I’d starve if she didn’t take me in and feed me enormous amounts of food.” His face took on a gentle expression. “She told me that if a man only knew how to cook one thing, it should be pasta. So she taught me.”
“Trieste? Never heard of it,” Sam said.
“It’s on the eastern border,” he returned casually.
“The border of Slovenia?” Amanda asked as her brain sifted through the geography.
He shot her a warning look. “Let’s eat.”
“Wow, touchy,” Sam observed.
Amanda nodded in agreement, but they both let it go.
“So, Joe,” Sam started after they’d settled in to eat, “you from around here?”
“For the most part,
“What’s all the yelling about?” Joe strode into the room, looking incredibly sexy in his jeans and bare feet. Amanda’s mouth watered as he ran his fingers through his wet hair.
“Sam was talking to Caleb.”
“Ah.” As if that was all that was needed to explain the yelling. “I don’t know about you girls, but I’m not drinking wine. How about something a little stronger to warm your bellies?”
* * * *
Dinner wasn’t quite the disaster Amanda thought it would be. She and Sam sat at the table while Joe informed them that, yes, even he could boil water. Sam had brought in a bottle of rum and offered to share. Amanda and Joe declined, opting for beer instead. Amanda had no intention of getting drunk tonight. She wanted to be at full capacity for whatever Joe had planned for her. If the looks he kept sending her way were any indication, it was going to be good.
His cell phone rang, surprising her. He glanced at it and with a terse “Excuse me, ladies,” he was gone. It was the first time since she’d known him that it had rung. It made her curious. Curious about his life. About who’d be calling him. If it was a woman that was calling him. Thoughts like that could drive a girl nuts.
“I hope Italiano for dinner works for both of you,” he said as he sauntered back into the kitchen a few minutes later, entertaining them with his best Italian accent. “It’s about all I can do.” He gave no indication as to the conversation he’d just had.
“How did you learn to do that so well?” Sam asked.
“Cook pasta?”
“No, smart-ass. The accent.”
“It’s sexy,” Amanda threw in before she could slam her mouth shut. Joe gave her a look that would melt the clothes off a saint.
“Uh, guys?” Sam waved her hand in front of Amanda’s face. “Company, remember?”
Amanda swigged from her beer and smirked. “Can you blame me? I mean … look at him.” She gestured in his direction with her bottle. She blocked her mouth with her hand so Joe wouldn’t see. “Isn’t he fantastic?” she mouthed to Sam, happy they were okay after her stellar performance of a jealous bitch.
Sam giggled back at her. “So, Mr. Hot Stuff—”
“Name’s Joe. Not ‘Mr. Hot Stuff,’” he grumbled, which just set off another round of giggles from Sam.
“The accent?”
He shrugged. “Spent some time in Italy a few years back.”
“What on earth were you doing in Italy?”
Joe gave Sam a droll stare. “Shopping.”
“Riiiight,” she said as she winked at Amanda. “Shopping. I’ll bet you bought the greatest shoes, didn’t you?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “No shoes, but I got a great pair of boots I can introduce you to.”
She laughed again. “I like him, Amanda. He’s got spunk.”
“I like him too,” Amanda said with way more feeling than she’d intended. Oops. She noted the curious way Joe stared at her before turning back to the stove.
“I met this old Italian woman in Trieste who took pity on me,” he said. “I think she thought I’d starve if she didn’t take me in and feed me enormous amounts of food.” His face took on a gentle expression. “She told me that if a man only knew how to cook one thing, it should be pasta. So she taught me.”
“Trieste? Never heard of it,” Sam said.
“It’s on the eastern border,” he returned casually.
“The border of Slovenia?” Amanda asked as her brain sifted through the geography.
He shot her a warning look. “Let’s eat.”
“Wow, touchy,” Sam observed.
Amanda nodded in agreement, but they both let it go.
“So, Joe,” Sam started after they’d settled in to eat, “you from around here?”
“For the most part,
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