No Strings Attached

Chapter Twenty

"Can I help you with anything?" I ask softly and he turns, smirking.

"You want to slice the tomatoes?"

"Sure," I murmur, walking to the sink to wash my hands. He's gotten me a cutting board and placed a handful of baby tomatoes onto the wood by the time I'm at the counter.

"Just right down the middle," he informs, grabbing a knife himself, scooping up the chopped anchovies on the corner of the blade, throwing it into a pan to sizzle with the rest of the ingredients.

My eyes can't help but follow him as he cooks, finding this a very attractive sight of him.

"You look so Italian right now."

He smiles, slicing black olives beside me. "Because I'm whipping you up a plate of Pasta Puttanesca? Just wait till you taste it."

"Oh? That sure of yourself?"

He chuckles. "I spent nearly every summer in Italy throughout my entire childhood. I definitely learned a thing or two about pasta."

By the smell in here, I don't doubt it one bit. The aroma is mouthwatering.

"You've been to Italy that much?"

"Yes. It's my second home. My family has a villa in the mountains. I try to make it there with them at least once a year."

I nod, slowly, focusing on slicing the tomatoes instead of the fact that Giovanni is beginning to open up to me about his life.

"You look comfortable," he suddenly says.

I look at him, glaringly. "You better not be making fun of me. I didn't expect to come here, you know."

"I see... and what would you have worn if you had known you were going to be staying here?"

Shit. I direct my attention back to the tomatoes. "Shut up."

"I'm extremely intrigued."

My eyes roll back as I hand him the slices of tomatoes. "I'm terminating this subject."

He laughs. "You can't just terminate—"

"I totally just did."

He tosses the tomatoes into the pasta, hiding a smile. "You know, I wasn't making fun of you. I like you looking comfortable around me. I'm so used to the suits."

"You act like no one's ever worn sweatpants around you or something."

He scoffs softly, moving around the pasta. "It's a rare occasion. I come from a very fashion-forward family. Not to mention, my ex wouldn't wear a thing that wasn't designer, whether she was going to bed or not."

She sounds like a trip. I scratch my head. "Designer clothes to bed. That doesn't sound comfortable."

"Silks and satins... only the best materials. She was always extremely comfortable. You should be, paying a couple grand for a nightgown."

I can't help but laugh out loud. When he looks at me, I try to stop myself, looking down.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

I hear him chuckle and I smile with relief.

"Sounds pretty ridiculous, huh?"

I bite my lip, gaping. "Um, well considering I'm wearing a shirt I received for free for participating in a charity marathon to sleep. To each their own, I guess."

I lean back against the counter, sizing him up slowly. "What do you wear to bed?"

His sultry eyes flicker from the stove to me. I like that he's surprised. I'm feeling brave right now.