"You never told me what happened with your conversation with Piotr Wozniak," I ask as we drive to the restaurant down at River North to have dinner with the Henkels. I'm looking out the window, watching cars in traffic, tall buildings, and the darkening sky when I suddenly remember Henkel's victory party we attended before going to New York where Mariano and Jax talked to the polish guy.
When he doesn't answer right away, I turn my head to look at him in the driver's seat. He has one hand on the wheel while he rubs his middle finger on his bottom lip with the other, looking thoughtful—probably contemplating how much he should tell me about that conversation. I don't know what it is, but there's something hot about him doing that, and he's not even doing anything special. I must be losing it if I find just about anything this man does attractive.