Page 37 of Tempted Hearts
Being with her was just too damn enjoyable.
“Buon appetito,” the white-haired woman said, her eyes too knowing.
“Grazie,” Jules quipped back.
My eyes darted to the anchovy like it was spawned from the same devil Juliette thought I came from.
“That’s gonna be a no for me,” I said, taking a pesto crostini instead. “At least this was invented not far from here. Just up the coast, in Genoa.”
“Anchovy?” she asked, just before also taking a bite of crostini, a bit of pesto remaining on her lower lip.
I looked back to the plate, picking up a piece of pecorino cheese.
“Yes. Anchovies. They were invented by the local fishermen.”
Juliette made a face at me.
“No,” I said after taking another bite. “Pesto. That’s why it’s so good here.”
“Good. This is like eating crack.”
She was too much. “You don’t eat crack, Juliette.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?” I teased. “Have you ever done drugs?”
“Does pot count?”
“Since it’s a drug, yes.”
She shrugged. “Then yes. You?”
“Yes, I have.”
She blinked. Waited. “Well? What kind?”
I’d forgotten to answer, lost in the way the waning sun caught a deep red hue in her black hair that I’d never noticed.
“Your cheeks are pink,” I said, noticing that too.
“It’s the alcohol. Happens sometimes.”
We both reached for a piece of salami at the same time. Our fingers brushed, and not noticing wasn’t an option.
I tried like hell anyway.
“Finocchiona,” I blurted like a school boy with his first crush. “It’s a type of fennel salami.”
“How do you know so much?” She popped the piece of meat into her mouth.
“I listen. Observe. And was graced with a good memory.”
“Oh man, you’re lucky. My memory’s crap.”
Juliette lifted her glass again, the rim brushing her lower lip as she watched me over the top of it. “Then you’ll have to remember things for both of us,” she said, voice low and teasing.
Something in my chest tightened.
