"Us?" I ask before I can catch myself. What happened to keeping this strictly professional?

"My two cousins and myself. We all lived on my grandparent's vineyard."

"In Tuscany."

"In Tuscany." He nods and takes my hand in his, as if it's the most natural thing in the world and laces his fingers with mine.

"I'm sure it's beautiful there." My eyes are locked on our hands.

Pull away, Alecia Marie. Right now.

"Mm."

My eyes find his again and I have to blink and shake my head to pull myself out of his trance.

This man is potent.

I pull away and return to my iPad. "So, we need to go over the vendors for the wedding."

"I'd like a list of the vendor's employees as well," he replies without missing a step.

"Why?"

"I want my security team to run background checks."

"That's not necessary-"

"Yes. It is." He holds my gaze firmly. "This is my family, Alecia. My very public, wealthy, celebrity family. I have hired security, and they will run background checks on all of the vendors. Even you."

"Me?!" I toss my head back and laugh. "I've been working with the Montgomery and Williams families for two years."

"Why is that?" he asks and the smile immediately leaves my face.

"Excuse me?"

"I think it's a valid question."

"I think it's an asshole question."

He quirks a brow. "If you like."

I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest, all warm and fuzzy feelings toward Dom out the damn window.

"I work for them because I do a damn good job of it. I know their preferences, and I have a good relationship with them, especially the girls. I'm not star struck by them and I don't allow my staff to be. I like them, damn it, so if you think I'd hire vendors that would put any of them at risk-"

"I didn't say you would."

"But you think I continue to work for them because, what, it gives me a rush to work with celebrities? Let me fill you in, Mr. Salvatore, I plan weddings and events for politicians, professional athletes, actors, and owners of Fortune 500 companies you can't even pronounce the names of."

"I'm quite good with languages, actually."

"Screw you. Do you think they'd continue hiring me if I wasn't excellent at what I do?"

"No."

He's perfectly calm, sipping his coffee while I rail at him, pissed and offended, and it occurs to me that it was a test.

I deflate and brace my head in my hands.

"I passed that test, I take it?"

"With flying colors, yes."

I glance through my fingers to find him grinning at me.

"You're not funny."

"I enjoyed that." He shrugs, his muscles straining under his T-shirt. His arms are tanned and strong, his hands long-fingered and I can't help but wonder if he plays the piano.

"Do you play the piano?"

"Yes. Why?"

"You have hands for it."

"That's not all my hands are good at."

I bite my lip and continue to stare at his hands as he runs the very tips of his fingers up and down his coffee mug.

I bet those hands are good at lots of things.

"Did you also hire your own security?" he asks.

"Mm."

"Excuse me?" He chuckles, and I blush furiously.

"Yes, I did."

"I'll have the head of my security contact them so they can coordinate."

"I'm going to want to meet with both teams next Friday on the site and go through the choreography of it all. Nothing can fuck this up."

"Agreed." He pulls a muffin out of a brown paper bag and peels the paper off the bottom, then passes me half of it. "Here."

"I'm fine."

"Did you have breakfast?"

"No."

"Here."

I sigh and take the muffin from him, knowing that arguing is futile. "Thanks."

"I hope you like chocolate."

"I'm female." I chuckle and take a bite of the delicious pastry. "It's in my DNA to enjoy chocolate."

"I have a wine that goes perfectly with a nice dark chocolate."

"I know. The late harvest Cabernet Sauvignon. You don't bottle much of it."

He narrows his eyes and takes a sip of his coffee before responding. "You know your wine."

"I do. I love wine, but it's also part of my job. I can't serve bad wine at events."

He reaches down and pulls the bag onto the table and sets it before me.

"For you."

Inside is the limited edition white wine that I covet every summer.

"Oh," I breathe, stunned. "I love this."

"I know."

I glance up in surprise.

"When I brought it to Brynna and Caleb's wedding last summer you practically drooled over it."

"It's so great. I try to order some every summer. I'll share this with Emily."

"Who's Emily?"

"My assistant. This is her favorite too."

He runs his forefinger over his bottom lip. "I'm sure I can find a bottle for her as well."

"Thank you." How am I supposed to resist a man who brings me my favorite wine and is generous enough to offer the same to my staff?

"When are you going to come out to the vineyard to work?" he asks quietly.

I've been avoiding this. I love his vineyard. And I'm attracted to him. And that's just not a combination that makes me comfortable.

But he's right. I have to go out there.

"Does Wednesday work? You don't have to show me around. I'm sure you have staff who can help me out."

"I'll make sure you're well taken care of," he replies noncommittally.

"Thanks. Well, I have another meeting in Seattle in an hour, so I should go."

"Of course." He stands and holds his hand out for mine, helping me to my feet. "Do you need directions to the vineyard?"

"No, I know where it is."

He nods and holds the door open for me.

"Where are you parked?"

"Oh, there wasn't any parking when I got here, so I'm a block over. You don't have to walk me."

"I'll walk you."

"You're rather stubborn, aren't you?" I ask, as we walk toward my SUV.

"That's what mama always said," he replies with a laugh. "But she also taught me to make sure a woman reached her destination safely."

And, queue the butterflies.

"Chivalry isn't dead after all," I mutter.

"It shouldn't be."

I unlock the doors and he opens the driver's side for me, leans in to lay the wine on the passenger seat, and takes in the back of my packed vehicle.

"What do you have in there, cara? It's packed."

"Decorations, samples. Stuff. I never know when I might need something."

He turns back to me with a smile, but when his eyes catch mine, his face sobers. He reaches toward me and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, then gently cups my jaw in his palm and lightly traces circles on my cheek. My nipples pucker, my breathing increases, and he licks his lips as his eyes drop to my mouth.

He's going to kiss me. I lean in, just an inch, craving his lips on mine, yet knowing this is such a bad idea.

The worst idea ever.

I don't want him to kiss me.

I so want him to fucking kiss me.

But rather than tip his face down to mine, he backs away, takes a deep breath, and gently pulls his fingers away from my face, leaving me yearning for him.

"I'll see you Wednesday, cara."

I bite my lip in disappointment, but offer him a quick grin.

"Wednesday."