“So he’s – oh my goddess, Jolie.” Mirra cut off what she was saying when Jolie entered the kitchen and looked her sister up and down. “We already talked about the no-shagging rule. You look like sex on a stick.”
“It’s not my fault that red isn’t your color, Mirra,” Jolie quipped, and wandered to the cabinet to get a glass.
Done up in an open-air Tuscan style, the kitchen was the heart of the Laughing Mermaid. More often than not, Mirra, Jolie, and Irma could be found laughing or arguing at the long stretch of table that dominated the room. Guests were often invited to join; other times they dined alone.
“Mirra can wear red, Jolie. You’re both blessed in the genes department. There isn’t much that doesn’t look good on either of you,” Irma said, casting a look over her shoulder. She stood at the counter, stirring sauce in a pan. “Though I must say you do look extra alluring for our family dinner tonight. Any particular reason?”
“I just felt like wearing this dress. It’s not like I put on makeup or heels or anything,” Jolie pointed out, opening the fridge to pour herself a glass of prosecco.
“I’ll take some,” Mirra called.
“Get it yourself,” Jolie countered, then jumped when Irma tugged her hair.
“Get your sister a glass of wine.”
“Fine.” Jolie glowered as she poured a glass for the beaming Mirra before settling herself in the chair at the end of the table. Reggae played lightly in the background, and through the open windows the sun made its nightly journey to meet the ocean. Mirra stuck her tongue out at Jolie, and despite herself, Jolie laughed.
“Punk.”
“Brat,” Mirra parried back.
“Ladies, I hope you get this out of your system, whatever it is, before our guest joins us for dinner.”
“He is?” Jolie straightened, her voice taking on a high pitch. The other two women turned to look at her with curiosity. “I mean… that’s nice. What’s for dinner?”
“Caprese. And stuffed noodles with my red sauce.” Irma returned to the stove, keeping one eye on her daughter and one on the food.
“Why are you so interested in our guest, Jolie? Been a slow month?” Mirra asked, then jumped when Jolie pinched her. Her eyes narrowed as she really looked at Jolie and then her face softened. That was Mirra – all heart.
“I don’t know. It’s just… something,” Jolie admitted.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be poking at you. If you think it’s something, I’ll trust that.”
“I don’t know if it’s something. I don’t know what I think. It’s just…”
“Something,” Mirra finished, patting her hand.
“Yeah,” Jolie said, gulping her prosecco, hoping the liquid would cool her burning throat.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you like this before. It’s like you’re nervous. Why are you nervous? Men eat out of your hand.”
“True, they do.” Jolie saw no sense in lying. Making men fall for her had always come easy. The hard part was finding one she wanted to stick around.
“We have a rule,” Irma reminded them.
“I know, I know, don’t sleep with the guests.”
“Um… I’m sorry to interrupt…”
A voice at the doorway sent shivers through her body and heat rushing to her cheeks. There was no way their guest hadn’t just heard Irma. Closing her eyes, Jolie took one more sip of her drink before opening them and looking at the man who was her destiny.
He looked equally as poleaxed as she was. Well, that made two of them. At least it was a party now.
“Prosecco?” Jolie asked.
He nodded, his cheeks still bright red with embarrassment, and Jolie rushed to fill his drink and cover the awkward silence that filled the kitchen.
“Ted, I’d like you to meet Jolie and Mirra, my daughters.”
“My pleasure,” Ted said, offering his hand to each of them. Jolie held his a second too long, letting his energy pulse through her before looking up at him from under heavy lids.
“The pleasure is all mine.”
“No seduction at the dinner table, Jolie. The man is already uncomfortable enough,” Irma cut in, putting baskets of bread on the table and banishing any attempt that Jolie could have made toward redeeming herself.
She glared grumpily at Irma, ignored Mirra’s giggle, and stuck her nose in her wine.
Maybe she’d find her answers there.
Chapter 4
“I must apologize,” Ted said, holding up his hands. “I didn’t bring anything for dinner. I know it’s rude of me, but I don’t have transportation yet.”
“It’s not a problem, Ted. But it’s really nice of you to think of that.” Jolie beamed up at him and enjoyed the pink that flushed his cheeks once again when he glanced at her and then away. The man did have the nicest green eyes, highlighted by the green canvas shirt he wore. His hair – light brown tinged with gold – was just long enough that she could run her hands through it, and broad shoulders hinted at strong arms and a lean build under his loose shirt. She wanted to undress him – preferably with her mouth. She licked her lips thinking about it. Ted caught his toe on the bench as he moved to sit down, and looked away from her again. Jolie could all but read his silent beratement of his clumsiness.
“I catch my foot on that all the time. It’s why I choose the chair at the end of the table and not the bench,” Jolie offered. Ted nodded, smiling a little in his embarrassment.
“Here’s your prosecco.” Mirra slid a blue glass in front of Ted, and he expressed his thanks. He looked around the kitchen, his eyes missing nothing, and blinked at the three women. Jolie could easily see his awkwardness at finding himself cozied up in their kitchen. She often forgot the impact the three of them had on men.
“Everything okay, Ted?” Jolie purred, and Ted jumped at being addressed.
“Ah.” Ted cleared his throat and then took a sip. “Yes, I’m fine. I just can’t decide what’s more intoxicating – the scents coming from the oven or being in this space with the three of you at once. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I’d landed in a Greek myth where the goddesses serve decadent meals and men bow to their whims.”
Well, well, well, Jolie thought, surprised at Dr. Macalister’s depths, and that he had the confidence to voice his thoughts even though the faint blush on his cheeks still gave away his nervousness. She hadn’t expected to find him cute or endearing, and this was adding new layers to the image she’d built in her head over the years.
“Well, isn’t that sweet of you, Ted.” Mirra beamed at him and passed him the basket of fresh-baked bread that Irma had just placed on the table. “Our mother was just reminding us how blessed we are in the genes department.”
“She’s not wrong. The three of you are some of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. And I live in a city chock-full of stunning women.”
Jolie was miffed to think of Ted eyeing up other women, not to mention the fact that he’d included her sister and mother in his compliments. Not that she didn’t think they were beautiful, because of course they were. But she wanted his attention on her, damn it.