Can't Get Over You (Fortune's Island, Book 2) by Shirley Jump Read Free Book Online

their soul. I think you can tell a lot about someone from the music they love.”
    She cut off another bite of lasagna. “As in, those who love Nirvana must be angry at the world or rebelling against authority?”
    That made him smile. “Something like that.” Ethan leaned across the table and his blue eyes met hers. “So tell me, Jillian, what kind of music whispers to you?”
    When Ethan looked at her like that and spoke to her in that quiet, inquisitive tone, it made Jillian weak in the knees. His eyes were riveted on hers, every ounce of his attention focused on her and her alone, not on the orchestral band in the corner or the waitress carrying desserts to the table beside them. On her.
    When was the last time Zach had looked at her like that, or given her that kind of undivided attention? This was what Zach didn’t get, what he failed to understand. That what she had wanted—what she had always wanted—was for him to make her a priority. She just wanted to feel important to him.
    And here was this man, a near stranger, hanging on her every word like she was the most interesting person in the world. As far as first dates went, this one was already a winner, and it was far from over.
    It took her a few seconds to gather her thoughts, and to remember the question was what kind of music she liked, not whether she liked Ethan. Which she did. Quite a bit already. He’d called her intriguing, but she could say the same of him—the way he looked at her, the way he listened, the way he took an interest in what she liked.
    “I’m a fan of singer/songwriters like Regina Spektor and Zee Avi,” she said. Ethan nodded, clearly familiar with the indie singers. Jillian wanted to tell him about her own music, but once again, she hesitated. She’d kept the secret for so long, she wasn’t sure she knew how to even broach the topic. So she deferred to talking about other musicians instead, the kind of musicians who sang the music she loved that maybe…just maybe, someday she could emulate. “They’re so…intense in their music. It’s almost like listening to a confessional.”
    “That’s a great way to describe them. Although Astor Records, the company I work for, tends to book more pop artists, when it’s just me and my stereo, I mainly choose artists like Fiona Apple, maybe even some Tori Amos.”
    “Curled up by the fireplace with a glass of wine and your pet cat?” she teased.
    “And wearing a cardigan. Of course.” He winked.
    She laughed. God, it felt so good to laugh, to have someone interested in what she thought, what she wanted, and yes, to be spoiled by the fancy restaurant, the expensive wine, the incredible food. “This was a great night. Thank you for asking me out, Ethan.”
    “It was my pleasure. And thank you for the recommendation. It was a great restaurant.” He gestured toward the tray of pastries the waiter was holding a few feet away. “Do you want some dessert?”
    She pressed a hand to her stomach. If she ate another bite, she’d surely explode. “Not now. But maybe later, if the offer still stands.”
    Wait. Had she just invited him over later? No, she wasn’t ready for that. Definitely not.
    Ethan signaled to the waiter for the check, and waved her off when she pulled out her wallet. “No, no. My treat.”
    Her hand stilled on the clasp. Was this how dates went nowadays? The men didn’t want to go Dutch? Maybe she’d spent too much time dating a struggling artist to remember what it was like not to split the tab. Yeah, definitely a different experience than when a waitress went out with a musician. She couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t worried about a price tag or a restaurant bill. “At least let me pay the tip.”
    “We talked shop, right? Then it’ll be a tax deduction.” He grinned. The waiter deposited the bill in quiet, near invisible movements. Ethan slipped a credit card inside, without even looking at the total.
    “Well, thank you,” she said. “It