Cole didn’t miss a beat, laying his menu down and facing the child. “What’s good here?”
“Special today is…” The boy with jet black hair and exotic green eyes looked over his shoulder, then back to Cole and leaned close. “Rocky’s triple chocolate peanut butter milkshake. Mom says milkshakes aren’t for breakfast, but I say they’re better than oatmeal.”
“We’ll have two.”
The kid grinned wider than a pancake. The eight-year-old was the spitting image of his father, who happened to own The Truck Stop Diner, and who also happened to own the condo I lived in, along with Rossi Enterprises, the very company I was scheduled to woo in a few short hours.
“I’ll also have the veggie omelet, and my beautiful lady will have…” Brows raised, Cole shot me an endearing look.
“I’ll have my usual, Rocky.”
“Okay, beautiful lady.” Rocky winked, then pulled his lower lip between his teeth and scribbled on the pad.
“Rocky. Cool name.” Cole offered his hand. “I’m Cole.”
Rocky tucked the notepad under his arm and gripped Cole’s fingers, giving him a hard shake. “Rocky James Mason Rossi.”
“Rossi, huh? Are you the boss around here?” Cole scratched the stubble on his chin.
“No, my dad is.” Rocky leaned close, lowered his voice. “At least that’s what he says. But he pretty much does whatever Mom tells him.”
Cole laughed and, sweet Lord, there was no better sound.
“Your dad happen to be here?”
“He’s in the office with Mom. They’re probably kissing and stuff.” Rocky scowled. “Nasty.”
“Gross.” Cole scrunched his nose.
Seriously. That man. What was he up to?
“Yesterday they forgot to lock the door and I—”
“Rockster, did you steal your mom’s notepad again?” came a booming voice from the kitchen.
“Uh. Oh.” Rocky dashed away, ducking behind the counter.
The double doors in the back of the dining room swung open, and a tall drink of water barreled through, scanned the area, then stopped cold, a bright smiling lighting his handsome features. “Jesus H Christ. Cole Adams. In the flesh. I thought we weren’t meeting until noon.”
I looked at Cole, who was already on his feet.
“Tango Rossi.” The men embraced with hard slaps to the back.
Cole turned to face me. “Tango, this is my girlfriend—”
“Natalie.” Tango cut him off and came my way, offering his hand. “Good morning.”
“Morning, Tango.”
Brows pinched, Cole’s gaze bounced between me and Tango. “How do you know each other?”
“I eat breakfast here at least twice a week,” I said, then added, “and I’m good friends with his wife.”
“Small fucking world.” Tango’s smile was infectious.
“I’d say it was fate,” Cole teased, shooting me a wink.
My brain reeled. “How do you two know each other?” I asked, pointing between the two large, blindingly beautiful men.
“Went to school together, back East.” Cole clapped Tango’s shoulder. “This guy kicked my ass in the ring more than once.”
“Our fathers have partnered on a few projects,” Tango threw in.
Missing pieces clicked into place. “Rossi Enterprises owns my building. That’s how you found me, isn’t it?”
They exchanged glances.
“And that’s how you got past security.”
Cole cleared his throat.
“I gotta run.” Wearing a boyish grin, Tango clocked Cole in the arm, then nodded at me. “See you soon, Natalie.” He took a step backward, then pointed at Cole. “We’re still on for lunch, yeah?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
With that, Tango turned and sauntered away.
Cole fell into his seat and grabbed my hand across the table. “I’ve known where you were the whole time.”
“What?”
He didn’t even have the courtesy to feign remorse.
“Oh, come on, Natalie. What man worth anything would let the love of his life out of his sights for one single heartbeat?”
Love of his life. I tucked that statement away for later processing. “You weren’t supposed to cheat.”
“I knew where you lived before we made that deal.” He dropped his chin, fiddled with a napkin, and said, “I’ve known for months.”
“That’s still cheating.”
“You’re right. I lied by omission. I’m sorry, but you were so damn cute and determined to make this difficult. You wanted to play. I needed to make you happy.”
“I’m too tired to be mad at you right now. Maybe after another coffee.”
As if on cue, a waitress I didn’t recognize brought refills. “Your breakfast’ll be right out.”
“Thank you,” Cole said, sitting straighter in his chair, turning his attention to the blue sky outside.
Early morning sun rays beamed through the window, lighting him in a dusty glow. I slipped my cell out of my bag and took a series of pics before he aimed his gaze my way again.
Oh, God. My heart.
The way he drank me in, those golden eyes dreamy and wanting and sleepy and grateful.
My phone chimed. I ignored the incoming text.
The waitress brought our plates. I used a fork and knife. Cole dug in with just his fork, his fingers long and graceful gripping the metal utensil. Thick veins mapped his hands, and dear God, I wanted those fingers on my skin. I wanted to spend the rest of the day in bed with that body and those dimples.
My phone chimed again. I shoved the annoyance away.
Cole stiffened. “What time’s your meeting this morning?”
“Nine sharp. I need to be at the office by eight fifteen so we have time to prepare.”
The third chime would come in three…two…one.
Yep. There it was.
Cole shot a glance at my cell, then back to me. “Don’t you need to get that? What if it’s work?”
“It’s not,” I mumbled before considering the consequences.
Faster than I could backtrack, he snatched the device off the table and read the screen.
Had I not been exhausted, I would’ve put up a fight.
The room heated. Cole stared at the words, his eyes going dark and liquid, his hands trembling.
“I’ve been getting them every day since Joe’s retirement party,” I confessed. “The exact same texts every day. Until yesterday.”
Cole’s chest rose and fell. He studied me like I was a mystery to solve.
I shrunk into my seat. “I had every intention of going to the police last night, but then I fell asleep and—”
“It’s not
