Page 15 of Sasha’s Secret

Sasha shrugged. “It can do, but I’m paid very well for the… inconvenience. I’ve worked irregular hours before, so I’m not hung up on finishing at five.”

“I know that feeling.”

Rocco cut another piece of pancake, smothered it with maple syrup, and carried the fork to his mouth. That mouth had given Sasha some sinful dreams overnight. He had the most perfect lips. Even watching the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed was having a disorientating effect on her.

He sighed. “Delicious as this is, I am going to have to up my workouts. I don’t think a portion of blueberries, no matter how generous, is going to compensate for pancakes like that.”

Sasha tried to suppress her sympathetic laughter. “That’s partly why I switched to omelets. I hate the gym, so this way, I don’t have to spend too long in there. We have one on the second floor,” she explained, before Rocco could ask. “You can use it if you want to, although you might want to give Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons a miss—that’s when Linzi’s personal trainer comes over. Her sessions can be a battle between the two of them, you know?”

“She doesn’t like exercise?”

“Just the gym. She prefers to swim, but when you’re a performer, there’s a lot of pressure to look good all the time. That means time in the gym as well as the pool.”

“You said you don’t like the gym, either—is there something else you prefer to do for exercise?”

Sasha almost gulped down her orange juice—it was the closest thing to hand to try to cool the hot flash burning her up inside at the imagined innuendo in Rocco’s question. “I use the dance studios a few times during the week, for things like yoga, and I run most days. Either first thing in the morning, or when it cools down—relatively—later in the day. With the size of the estate, there’s plenty of places to run.”

“I see. Do you prefer to run on your own, or do you have company?”

She leaned her elbows on the counter and studied Rocco over the rim of her glass. She couldn’t escape the feeling that his questions were leading somewhere, and her hormones were only too eager to follow. The damn man was an enigma, even with her training. She could appreciate the irony, though—his training was probably responsible. Maybe it would become easier, the more time she spent around him…

Yes, she was certifiably insane.

“I usually run alone. In the morning, it’s too early for most people around here who aren’t already at work. That’s my favorite time, but at this time of year, unless I have other priorities, I run after work.”

Rocco took a moment to refill his coffee cup. “Would you like some company later on? You’d be doing me a favor.”

When he put it like that, how on earth was she supposed to refuse? “How is running with me doing a favor for you?”

“It’s a way of learning more about the property, and with you there, if I have any questions, I have someone I can ask.”

She couldn’t argue with that. She also tried to tell herself it was a good thing, because it proved there’d been no double meaning behind his earlier questions. “Seventeen hundred, at the main door. We can fit a half-hour in easily before we start losing daylight.”

His gaze snagged hers and held it. “It’s a date, then.”

And that blew her sense of relief out of the water. A date. Did he have to phrase it like that? An image flashed into her mind—Rocco sitting opposite her in a restaurant. A candle on the table, a glass of wine in her hand, and him studying her as if he’d like to eat her alive. Crazy—she was barely even acquainted with the man.

Doesn’t stop you wanting him, though.

Yes, definitely crazy—now she was hearing voices, too. It didn’t matter that the voices were right—the mischievous one that belonged to the devil took control of her mouth and responded for her. “First date I’ll have been on in a long… long… time.”

Rocco’s expression became one of disbelief. “Not possible. Any man would give his left—eye teeth to take you out.”

His unwavering gaze pinned her in place, while her brain struggled to find something to say that wouldn’t give away her unbridled urge to rip his clothes off. “Hey. Professional workaholic here. Not enough hours in the day.”

She expected him to take his cue from her and laugh it off. However, his expression remained unchanged, and now she was even more hot and bothered, and almost squirming in her seat.

His dark gaze mesmerized her. “There are always enough hours in the day for something you really… really… want.”

Energy crackled between them. In her mind’s eye, he pushed aside the plate of pancakes, stood, and leaned across the counter. His face came closer, until she could no longer focus properly, and his mouth claimed hers with a deep, bewitching kiss.

In reality, he remained completely still as he continued. “Of course… sometimes, what you really, really want doesn’t need hours.”

His brown eyes—the richest, most sinful chocolate she’d ever seen—darkened even more, and suddenly, Sasha was consumed by a craving to find out if that chocolate was as wicked as she suspected.

* * *

To kill some time before his meeting with the head of security, Rocco was examining the plans of Casa Millefiori laid out on the table before him—at least, that was what he hoped it looked like. His mind was occupied elsewhere, replaying the conversation he’d had with Sasha over breakfast, and berating himself for overestimating his self-control so badly. What the hell had come over him?