Page 25 of Sparring Partners
All Adrian could do was stare. Luca’s hair flopped forward over his brow. It looked softer, not so rigidly held in place as when he was in the hotel. In skinny black jeans, a fitted lilac shirt which was open at the neck, and an expensive and soft looking suede jacket, he was understated and stylishly casual. He was everything Adrian swore he didn’t want, but as his breath stilled in his lungs and a weight pushed hard against his chest, a voice laughed in his ear that he was nothing but a deluded fool.
The door swung closed behind Luca. He walked towards the bar, breaking through Adrian’s paralysis.
“Adrian.” Luca nodded a greeting before his gaze turned towards the range of artisanal gins.
“Let me get you a drink,” Adrian rasped, pulling Luca’s cool attention back to him. He looked along the bar, but there was only Ryan on duty and he was busy.Say it now, get it out in the open…“Look, about the other night. I?—”
“Shouldn’t have tried to kiss me? But then maybe I shouldn’t have let you,” Luca said quietly, glancing in Ryan’s direction. His lips curved into a smile, warmer this time, as the coolness in his eyes thawed.
“But you did.” Adrian, too, kept his voice low, all his awkwardness, all his nerves draining away as warmth flooded through him. He moved closer to Luca. “Listen, maybe we could start from scratch and?—”
“Luca, I’m sorry I’m late. Work problems, as ever. Goodness knows why I agreed to undertake a consultancy role. Honestly, it feels like it’s turning into a full-time job.”
The loud, confident voice sliced between them. Adrian and Luca fell back as they both swung their heads around. Jonathan strode forward, his rich, heavy cologne ahead of him, all smiles as he kissed Luca on the cheek, and placed an arm around his shoulders.
“Adrian.” Jonathan nodded, the acknowledgment brief as all his attention shifted back to Luca. “Let me get you a drink, we’ve got time.”
“Time for what?” Adrian’s smile felt like a rictus, as he looked at Luca’s reddening face.
“We’re—”
“Dinner,” Jonathan cut in. “At Luigi’s. Their spaghetti aglio e olio is to die for. Have you tried it?”
Adrian didn’t miss the barely there up and down appraisal Jonathan gave him. With his work worn jeans, less than pristine white T-shirt underneath an equally worn dark red and blue plaid shirt, and scuffed work boots, no doubt Jonathan believed he knew the answer. Adrian forced himself to relax his tight jaw as he tilted his head to the side.
“Spag with garlic and olive oil, you mean? No, not had it at Luigi’s, but I ate it all the time when I lived in Naples. It’s at its best from small neighbourhood trattorrias, or when made bynonain a family home.” Adrian smiled, not giving a damn if it looked like the snarl it felt like.
A small, dense silence smothered them before Jonathan inclined his head. “Then you have the better of me, as it’s a dish I’ve yet to enjoy in situ.”
“Let me get some drinks in, shall I?” Luca slipped out from under Jonathan’s arm.
“Will you join us, Adrian?” Jonathan’s smile was small and tight, nailed into place, his polite words icy, making it clear what he expected the answer to be. Adrian doubted his own smile was much better.
“I should really get back to the farm.”
Jonathan inclined his head. “We quite understand. I expect you have a very early start in the morning.” He turned towards Luca, the dismissal clear.
“I’m used to it.” Adrian’s hackles rose as his smile broadened, stretching tight and threatening to rip his skin. “But, yes, on second thoughts, I’ll join you for a drink.”
“Super,” Jonathan gritted out. “No, Luca, I’ll get them—” Before he could say anything more, Jonathan’s phone rang. “Damn it, it’s the office again. I’m sorry, I have to take this.” Pressing it to his ear, he moved away.
Adrian jerked his head towards Jonathan’s back. “So, Luigi’s eh?” He dropped his voice, keeping it low for his and Luca’s ears alone. “Nice place. Expensive and classy. Looks like your friend’s getting serious.”
“Yes, friend. Because that’s what he is. Haven’t we already had this conversation?”
Adrian snorted. “Then he’s not got the memo.”
“You mean that peck on the cheek? That doesn’t mean anything, it was just a greeting.”
“He looked like he wanted to rip my liver out when I accepted a drink. Sorry if I’m spoiling your date.” Spoiling? He wanted to trample all over it, and kick it into the gutter.
“I’ve told you, it’s not adate,” Luca hissed. “It’s dinner with a friend.”
“Of course it is.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Jonathan’s a nice man, and?—”
“Nice?” Adrian smirked. “I think that’s another conversation we’ve already had.”
