She glanced over at him. “And what was your mother’s name?”

“Clarisse. And my father was Adam.” Jason then looked down at his watch. “Come on. Our lunch should have arrived by now.”

He surprised her when he took her arm and led her toward a bank of offices and stopped at one in particular with his name on it. She felt her heart racing. Although he hadn’t called it as such, she considered this lunch a date.

That thought was reinforced when he opened the door to his office and she saw the table set for lunch. The room was spacious and had a downtown view of Denver. The table, completely set with everything, including a bottle of wine, had been placed by the window so they could enjoy the view while they ate.

“Jason, the table and the view are beautiful. Thanks for inviting me to lunch.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, pulling a chair out for her. “There’s a huge restaurant downstairs for the employees but I thought we’d eat in here for privacy.”

“That’s considerate of you.”

And done for purely selfish reasons, Jason thought as he took the chair across from her. He liked having her all to himself. Although he wasn’t a tea drinker, he had become one and looked forward to visiting her each week to sit down and converse while drinking tea. He enjoyed her company. He glanced over at her and their gazes connected. Their response to each other always amazed him because it seemed so natural and out of control. He couldn’t stop the heat flowing all through his body at that precise moment even if he wanted to.

He doubted she knew she had a dazed look in the depths of her dark eyes or that today everything about her looked soft, feminine but not overly so. Just to the right degree to make a man appreciate being a man.

She slowly broke eye contact with him to lift the lid off the platter and when she glanced back up she was smiling brightly. “Spaghetti.”

He couldn’t help but return her smile. “Yes. I recall you saying the other day how much you enjoyed Italian food.” In fact they had talked about a number of things in the hour he had been there.

“I do love Italian food,” she said excitedly, taking a hold of her fork.

He poured wine into their glasses and glanced over and caught her slurping up a single strand of spaghetti through a pair of luscious lips. His gut clenched and when she licked her lips he couldn’t help but envy the noodle.

When she caught him staring she blushed, embarrassed at being caught doing something so inelegant. “Sorry. I know that showed bad manners but I couldn’t resist.” She smiled. “It was the one thing I always wanted to do around my parents whenever we ate spaghetti that I couldn’t do.”