he dropped the tablets into her upturned hand, his fingers accidentally grazing her palm.
There were those damn tingles again.
She frowned, which hurt. Still, her gaze followed him as he opened a small refrigerator, removed a glass jug of clear bubbling liquid, poured it into a tumbler and handed it to her. She took a sip of the sparkling water, which burned quite pleasantly as she swallowed the pills.
“Are you okay to sit? Do you need to lie down?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
His lips turned up at the ends—not a real smile—as he prompted her to apply the ice pack by taking her hand and placing it against her head.
“It will help.”
Jasmine closed her eyes as she iced, ignoring the tingles—and certainly not thinking about the source of the tingles. Once again, she willed herself to remember what had happened after her arrival in Paris, but there was nothing behind her lids but blackness interspersed by shards of light that flashed with each beat of her pulse. For some reason, trying to remember made her head hurt more, so instead, she simply listened to Luca work in the kitchen.
Cupboards opened and closed. The sound of a nearby drawer as it was sliding open and closed on its runners. A knife against a cutting board. Slicing. Another drawer and the sound of cutlery. The clink of glass against the granite countertop followed by the pop of a cork and the gurgling of liquid being poured.
When she opened her eyes, a glass of red wine sat in front of her, as did a plate of various cheeses, finely sliced meats, nuts and olives that he’d placed in the middle of the counter between them.
Luca was tipping his own wine glass back and Jasmine noticed the movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. He had a strong neck. Lots of tendons and muscles that worked in harmony.
And then he caught her staring. “Yes?”
She cleared her throat and pointed at her glass. “Should I be drinking?”
“Just a glass. It’s good for you. But then water.” He gestured to the platter of food. “Please.”
Hesitantly, Jasmine reached for a piece of cheese. Oh, it was good, and the more she ate, the more hungry she felt.
When was the last time she’d eaten?
Glancing down, she noticed her dirt-smeared blouse. When was the last time she’d changed? Showered? Turning and tilting her chin in a way she hoped was inconspicuous, Jasmine gave her pits a sniff.
Ugh. Not the freshest.
“Um...” Jasmine began after eating a handful of nuts and three slices of meat. “I hate to trouble you, but would I be able to take a shower?”
The man turned from where he’d been pulling items out of the small refrigerator. “It’s not a good idea.”
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