Just Add Spice
Jenna let out a hearty laugh, surprising both of them. “Please.” Her gaze slid to him. “The things you did to me when we were married? Even before that? No mere sweet Catholic schoolboy knows what you know. You are bad to the bone, my friend.”
“What can I say? You make me that way. And we sizzled together.”
“I’m surprised the sheets never went up in flames.”
“Something to strive for,” he said, a glint of desire in his gaze.
“Rafe.”
“Jenna,” he countered.
She balanced the bowl on a suede-covered decorative pillow and dug into her linguine, swirling around a forkful with the help of a large spoon at the tip of the prongs. She didn’t take her eyes off the bowl. Instead, she took a big bite and savored the fresh pasta and clams. Then she reached for her Pinot Gris.
Rafe said, “You can’t tell me we’re not still ridiculously hot for each other.”
She swallowed. “I never said that. I’m not refuting we have great chemistry.”
“Great? Are you kidding, Jen?”
“O
kay,” she conceded as she set her glass back on the coffee table. “But this is probably something we shouldn’t talk about.”
She situated herself more comfortably against the plump cushions along the arm of the sofa and continued to eat. Rafe didn’t press her, but he did lift her legs onto the sofa. With her feet in his lap, he massaged them tenderly. Expertly. Knowing all the right spots that needed his skilled touch.
“That’s divine,” she said in between bites. “Tell me what you do when you’re not at Sampogna’s.”
“Visit my family and friends. Try new recipes. Browse the selection at the farmer’s market with Tonio. Go down to the Wharf and watch the seals at Pier 39. I don’t know, Jen. There’s a shitload of things to do. This is San Francisco. Sometimes I put the top down on my convertible and drive across the Golden Gate Bridge. Or take the ferry to Marin County. Spend the day in Sausalito or tour wine country.”
“Sounds nice,” she confessed.
“All things I wanted to do with you.” There was a slight edge to his voice. He cleared his throat. In a neutral tone, he asked, “Do you ever see the sights in the cities you visit?”
“Not while I’m in the throes of a project.” She’d never discussed this with Rafe before and admitted, “When I was a kid, though, my parents were very big on sightseeing. We took day trips all the time, no matter where we were. Think I’ve seen every monument and national park in the continental U.S., including Mount Rushmore and the caves of the Ozarks.”
“How often did you move around?”
Jenna shifted, pulling her feet from his hands. She stood and took the bowl of pasta into the kitchen. She put cling wrap over the top and set it on a shelf in the stainless-steel refrigerator.
When she rejoined him in living room, she told Rafe, “I don’t want to talk about my childhood.”
He sat forward, resting his forearms on his powerful thighs. “Did you like traveling so much back then?”
She shook her head.
“Then why do it now?”
“It’s different now that I’m older, Rafe. Besides, it’s what I know. It’s what I’m most familiar with, and… Look, not everyone is wired the same way. Some of us need our work to define who we are, and that means we’ve always got our nose to the grindstone. And for me, it also means I hop from place to place.”
He regarded her contemplatively, then said, “When it comes to you, there’s more to the story. And we both know it. Problem is, you’ve never given me the unabridged version.”
“Maybe I don’t like the unabridged version,” she told him honestly. “I compartmentalize, and that makes me happy.”
“Happy.” He said the word with such disdain—directed at her—that she got the distinct impression he thought she’d never experienced that emotion.
With a sigh, Jenna said, “There are varying degrees, Rafe. And what one considers gleeful, another might not.”
“When, exactly, have you been happy in your life?”