Make Me Risk It Read Online Free PDF Page A

wryly as she stepped out of the bathroom.
    He was already there, leaning over a dark walnut cabinet and shuffling through the contents of a drawer. She stopped in her tracks, just soaking in the image of him for a moment while he was distracted. His hair was still slightly damp from the shower, but his bangs had begun to dry, revealing strands of dark gold. He was shaved and his goatee had been neatly trimmed, giving him a crisp, clean appearance. He wore black tweed pants and a jacket, along with an ivory shirt that came to a slight V in the front. The ensemble looked effortlessly chic and sexy on his long, lean frame.
    He glanced up distractedly—even though she was sure she hadn’t made a sound—and did a double take. She smiled.
    “That color is amazing on you. You look gorgeous,” he said, slamming the drawer shut and stalking toward her, whatever he was searching for apparently forgotten.
    “Thank you. So do you.”
    He slid his hands into his pant pockets and paused, his gaze sliding down the length of her and up again to her face. She wondered if she’d ever stop going warm under his steady, somber . . . outrageously sexy checkouts.
    “I know,” she muttered, embarrassed. “My cheeks. They’re still bright red.”
    His smile unfurled slowly. He reached with his hand, the back of his fingers brushing across her warm cheeks. “I like them. They make your eyes even brighter.”
    “I look like I had a heyday with my blush.”
    “No.” His fingers moved on her cheek. “No one could ever replicate that color with makeup.
That’s
the real thing.”
    “That’s a really hot shower,” she breathed, enthralled by his expression as he touched her.
    “That’s excellent sex,” he corrected before he leaned down and brushed his mouth against hers. Her heart gave a jump in her rib cage.
    “If anyone could replicate the way you look right now, they’d own the world.”
    She opened her mouth, stunned by his compliment, and then he was kissing her, slow and deep and toe-curling.
    “We’re going to be late,” he said quietly a moment later.
    “Then stop kissing me.”
    “Stop
making
me,” he replied dryly, grabbing her hand.

Chapter Three
    She was sure they’d be late, both for dinner and the opera, but Jacob’s driver worked some kind of miracle in weekend traffic, getting them to Jardinière in record time. It was a favorite restaurant of Harper’s, but even so, she’d never gotten so much attention—either from the staff or curious patrons—than she did while accompanying Jacob that night. She had the distinct impression most people didn’t know specifically who he was. It was his air of absolute, quiet confidence and epic good looks that had them tittering. Perhaps aware of the intrusive stares, the maître d’ seated them at a secluded table to enjoy their pre-opera meal.
    “You enjoy the opera, then?” Jacob asked her after they’d been served their wine and salads.
    “In San Francisco I do,” she said wryly, pulling her gaze off the vision of his strong hands cutting an heirloom tomato with a silver knife and fork. It made her think of him holding that gold Waterpik. . . what he’d done to her in that shower. Her already flushed cheeks heated.
    “Why only in San Francisco?” he asked, puzzled.
    “They put up the English translation above the stage,” she said, smiling. “I never learned Italian. I went to the opera when I was in Paris once, and had no idea what was going on. I was bored out of my mind.”
    He grinned and took a swift bite. Something about his silence pricked her interest.
    “You
do
, don’t you?” she asked slowly. His brows went up in a query. “Speak Italian?”
    “Only a little,” he said with what struck her as modesty. “It doesn’t take me much to pick up languages. I’ve seen a few Italian women over the years, and it somehow sunk in a little.”
    She laughed and his eyebrows arched in a query. “There you have it, then. I forgot you were good