The kitchen was magnificent, all dark wood cabinets and gray and green marble. The appliances were shiny silver and the stove looked like something you’d see in an industrial kitchen. Alex had his head in the refrigerator, giving her a lovely view of his beautiful ass in fitted jeans. The long-sleeved t-shirt he wore hugged the lean muscles of his upper body, showing off the breadth of his shoulders.
She felt that stupid tightening in her lower stomach again just looking at his back, and she wanted to turn around and leave. If Chris hadn’t been standing there, she might have.
“Hi,” Alex said, and turned to face her with a bowl of strawberries in his hands. “Glad you could make it.”
She nodded, so uncomfortable she didn’t even know what to do with her hands. “I can’t stay long,” she blurted. She was lying. She didn’t have anything else to do that afternoon. And Yaya would kill her for this, but… “My grandmother called this morning and wanted to have lunch. I told her I was busy, but she insisted on an early dinner.” Liar liar liar. She couldn’t believe what a coward she was, but that kiss last night had shaken her and she really didn’t know what else to do.
Chris saved her from another awkward silence by saying, “He’s been in here cooking all morning. You have to eat some of it.”
She smiled, hoping it didn’t look too forced. She’d always liked Chris. And she still had to work with these men. She didn’t want that to be uncomfortable, too. “Great game Friday,” she commented to Chris, as Alex approached, frowning.
“What the hell is that smell?” he asked Chris, before Chris could comment on her statement. Then Alex’s brows furrowed. “You’ve got that shit on again, don’t you? Get out of my kitchen with that smell. You’ll ruin my food.”
Chris shrugged, looking bashful as he waved a finger at his roommate. “Hey, now. Don’t knock the Miracle ointment. The stuff is awesome in a pinch, and I have no time to do anything else today.”
Nathalie suddenly recognized the menthol scent of a popular heating balm and realization hit. “You got hurt Friday?” She followed Chris back out of the kitchen. “What’s bothering you?” she asked, stopping him close to the small living room with a hand on his arm.
“Chris…” Alex warned from the kitchen doorway. But she ignored him and motioned for Chris to continue.
He dumped the fleece he’d been carrying onto the floor and pointed to a spot just beyond his reach at the back of his shoulder. “There. I can’t even reach it but the muscle is spasming. Needed a mirror to get the patch on.”
“Let me see.”
“Nat, I don’t think—”
“Show me. Now,” she said more firmly.
He hesitated for a long minute, staring at Alex. She squeezed Chris’s elbow and nodded at his shirt. Reluctantly, he rolled up the short sleeve of his gray polo, pushing material out of the way so she could get a look at his shoulder. She removed the coated heat pad covering the bruise and gently investigated the area. The smell of the additional balm he’d used under the pad was almost overwhelming, so strong it made her eyes water.
She shook her head at his attempt at self-medication and pressed her palm over the muscle, letting heat flood her hand. “Just relax. Feels like a pretty solid knot back here. Let me see what I can do.”
The focus required to heat her hands just enough and find the exact place to apply pressure took her mind off how awkward she felt in their beautiful home. She worked his muscles until she heard him groan. “That hurt?”
“No, feels great. Your hands are really warm.”
“Is the muscle relaxing? Any more spasms?”
“That’s helping a lot. Thanks.”
After another few minutes, she stepped back and he rolled his sleeve back down. “Thanks, Nat. That really worked out the kink.”
“No problem. But you should come into the Center tomorrow and have it worked on a little more. And put a hot pack on it tonight to keep the muscle from seizing up again.”
“Will do.” He glanced briefly at Alex, then said, “I have something I need to do, so I’ll see you guys later. Enjoy lunch.” He nodded to her and hurried down the hall.
When the front door closed, she faced Alex. He was scowling after Chris.
“I need to wash that balm off my hands,” she said to get his attention. “Bathroom?”
He was still frowning when he nodded toward a door across from the living room. When she emerged with better smelling hands, she felt more settled. And while she couldn’t say she was relaxed, at least she wasn’t ready to bolt.
She went back into the kitchen and got hit once again by how gorgeous Alex looked in jeans and a t-shirt. Her calm started to slip away. She took a deep breath and said, “So what are we having for lunch?”
“Roasted chicken with a white wine sauce.” He gestured to the bowl of strawberries on the central island and motioned to a chair. “Sit. I’m almost finished. Help yourself to the strawberries while you wait. You’re not allergic?”
“No. Thanks.” She sat and munched on a berry while she watched him work over a few pots on the stove. He looked entirely too sexy in the kitchen.
“Chris shouldn’t have had you to look at his shoulder,” he muttered without facing her.
“I made him, remember. And it’s no big deal. It’s my job.”
“Not today. You’re my guest.”
“Why?”
He paused in his mixing. “Why what?”
“Why am I here?”
“I wanted to cook for you.”
“But why? Alex… This is getting out of hand.”
“Shut up and eat some strawberries.”
His comment surprised her enough she almost laughed.
“You really having dinner with your grandmother?” he asked quietly.
“Yes,” she lied.
“I’m baking a cake for dessert.” He finally glanced over his shoulder. “No box mixes.”
She smiled. “I’d expect nothing less from a future pastry chef.”
With a nod, he turned back to the stove. “Rob wants us over around eight tomorrow night. Will that give you time to get home? Or should I pick you up from work?”
“No! Not work. I’ll go home first. I’ll need to change anyway. Probably not a good idea to show up in my uniform.”
“So you’re not going to back out, then. I was starting to worry.”
“Until we find—”
“Yes, I know,” he interrupted.
He leaned over to pull something delicious smelling out of the bottom of two separate, stacked ovens and gave her an equally delicious view of his backside. Damn but the man had a gorgeous ass. She’d always been a sucker for denim-encased male butts and Alex had one of the best she’d ever seen. That was not a good thing, given the tension in the room.
“I didn’t invite you to this dinner tomorrow because of the stuff with Johnson, though.” He plated the chicken, along with the sides of risotto and a spinach-bacon salad.
“Bacon, huh?” she commented. “Definitely not a kosher kitchen.”
“My parents didn’t push me to keep to the eating rules of Judaism. They didn’t want me to stand out too much. Besides, finding kosher food in North Dakota when I was growing up wasn’t really possible.” He set a plate in front of her. “You want a glass of wine?”
“Water will be fine. Thank you.”
She breathed in the complimentary scents of the food and hoped she could eat. Her stomach muscles were tight from nerves. As he set the water down, she regretted not accepting the offer of wine. It might relax her enough to actually enjoy the meal.
Once he was seated, she dug into the chicken. He watched her take her first bite before starting on his own lunch.
“This is really, really good,” she said, her mouth still full. She swallowed. “You sure you don’t want to be a regular chef?”
“I like baking better. Wait’ll you taste the cake.”
After eating a little more in silence, she said, “How’s your leg today
?”
“Sore still. You offering to work on it?”
“No. I’ll look at it tomorrow. At the Center.”
His eyes narrowed. “But you had no trouble taking care of Chris’s shoulder?”
“Shoulders are easier than legs.” Less clothes to remove.
“You afraid I won’t be able to control myself if I take my pants off?”
“No.” She was afraid she wouldn’t be able to. “But for the purposes of this lunch, your pants have to stay on.” He raised a brow and glanced down toward her lap. “My pants are staying on, too,” she said dryly.
He shrugged, but the gesture didn’t convey his agreement. Damn him. She was now imagining him without his pants on and that was not going to get her through this meal with her sanity intact.
As it was, she was dreading work tomorrow. If she was lucky, another one of the PTs would end up working on Alex, and she wouldn’t have to worry about her errant hormones interfering.
“Chris won’t be back until later tonight,” he said in what felt like a change of subject.
But she had a feeling it wasn’t. “Okay.”
“There aren’t any cameras out there right now, are there?”
“No.”
“And there won’t be for the rest of the afternoon.”
“Fine.”
“You can relax, Nathalie. You’re not going to get caught here by the press. And I’m not going to attack you.”
She gave him a look. “I know that.” She nodded to the window at the far end of the kitchen. “How did you manage to score a backyard?”
“Happy accident. You can see it after lunch if you like.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll give you the full tour.”
She made a point of looking around the kitchen and back down the hall. “The house is really nice, tidier than I would expect from two men who are on the road a lot.”
“Maid service. I’m kind of a slob outside of the kitchen.”
“I find that very hard to believe.”
He looked up from his meal. “Why?”
“You’re too controlled.” She shrugged.
He held her gaze, and said, “Not that controlled.”
Before she had a chance to react, he went back to eating and launched into chitchat that didn’t make her want to squirm in her seat. His efforts worked to relax her enough that she managed to finish her lunch without trouble. When they were done, he put the dishes in the sink.
“I’ll get them later,” he said when she asked if she could help with the cleanup.
He turned to the top oven and pulled out a glorious smelling chocolate cake. “It’ll take a while to cool. Let’s do that tour, and then I’ll come back and make the frosting.”
“Real frosting? Not the stuff in those little plastic containers?”
He actually glared at her. “Not in my kitchen.”
With a laugh, she followed him into the hall. He gave her a general tour, leading her upstairs to the second floor and showing her a larger living room with an equally large TV, bookshelves which were full of actual books and not random knick knacks, and comfortable looking furniture. There was a small bar near the large windows that looked out over the back of the house, but it looked a little neglected. The gaming equipment set up next to the TV surprised her. “You guys have time for video games?”
“They’re good for the reflexes,” he said, completely unrepentant.
He led her on up to the third floor and pointed out his room, Chris’s room, and the main bathroom. But to her relief, he didn’t linger on that floor or even open the door to his bedroom. For some reason, that eased a worry she hadn’t realized she’d carried with her on the tour. And on the way down the stairs, she felt like an idiot. Confusion did not mix well with her lust, and it was playing havoc with her logic.
Back in the entryway, he grabbed her coat off the hook where Chris had hung it. He held it for her so she could slip it on.
“I’ll show you the yard. It’s pretty tiny, but we have a bench and a few very stubborn plants.”
He grabbed his own coat and gestured her back toward the kitchen. From the backdoor, he led her down a narrow set of wrought iron steps to a small space paved with gray stones and circled by a brick fence. The neighboring houses, both to the sides and the back, could easily see into the space, but enough sun hit the area even in the afternoon to give it an open feel.
Alex had been right about there not being much to it. She stood in the center, taking in the worn wooden bench and the three pots of ragged-looking plants, the bare dirt along two sides, and the stems from ivy covering the back fence. “Lot you could do back here,” she said, already imagining the plants and flowers she’d use to fill in the dirt spaces.
“I’d do more, but we really don’t have the time.”
“You’d rather be in the kitchen,” she guessed. “Or playing video games?”
He shrugged good naturedly at her ribbing. “My parents were botanists. I’m not.”
“Why the tree of life tattoo, then?” He had a large and very detailed tree inked onto his upper right shoulder which she’d always liked. But she’d never been brave enough to ask him about it. It was his only tattoo—at least that she’d ever seen. And since she’d seen him in as little as a towel, she knew he didn’t have any others in any obvious places. If there were any in the less obvious places, she didn’t want to know about it because she wouldn’t be able to think ever again.
“I got that my sophomore year in college. A few months after my parents died.”
“Tree of life because of the botany or the Judaism?”
“Both.”
She smiled. “I like that. My dad would like the image. You had good work done.”
“Thanks.” He gestured around the little yard. “So what would you do to this place? If it was yours?”
“Oh, lots. I’d have to plot and plan. Probably get my dad in to help me diagram. But I’d definitely put an herb garden over there.” She pointed to the dirt closest to the stairs. “The light seems to be good in that area. And you could easily come down and pick fresh herbs for whatever you were making. At least in the spring and summer. You’d have to either bring them inside or cover them well in the winter.”
“Does your dad do landscaping? Maybe I should hire him.”
“You’re a little out of his way here. But because you’re who you are, he’d probably make an exception. He’s a big Empires fan, too.”
Alex’s smile made her forget for just a minute that they weren’t really friends, or lovers, or anything other than sometime-colleagues who were forced together by her stupid vision. Then reality returned.
“We should get back inside,” he said when she wandered to the far end of the yard, only a few feet away. “Time for cake.”
“I could eat some cake,” she said to cover her lapse.
He followed her back up the stairs, and she pretended he wasn’t looking at her ass.
In the kitchen, he dropped his coat over a hook near the backdoor and went straight to the large mixing bowl on the counter. “Hang up your coat. I’ll have the frosting mixed up in a few minutes. Then you can help me frost.”
“You’re putting me to work?”
“It’s good for you.”
She rolled her eyes but was secretly happy to have something to do with her hands that didn’t involve stripping Alex naked.
To her surprise, he kept her entertained while he mixed up a chocolate buttercream, detailing the process like he was the host of a cooking show. She relaxed and laughed and enjoyed herself so much she really did forget about the strangeness of the situation. She realized that here, in his home, without any possibility that someone would spot them or snap a picture or otherwise make her life difficult, she really could just enjoy his company. And she did. Being around him made her feel…happy.
It was a happiness she knew would lead her right to heartbreak.
The cake was one of the most delicious thin
gs she’d ever had the pleasure to eat. And wicked thoughts of licking that chocolate frosting off Alex’s gorgeous body ensured she’d never look at chocolate cake quite the same way again.
*****
He refused to send her home on the subway, so she had to wait for the car to arrive. She’d stuck to her story of having an early dinner with her grandmother because if she admitted to the lie, she wasn’t sure he’d let her leave. And she needed to get away, soon, before she completely lost her senses. He was too much. Too sexy, too fun, too nice, too everything that was right when he was absolutely wrong for her.
She stood with him in the entryway, her hands vice-like on her purse, sweating because she’d insisted on putting her coat on already, and wondering if he’d kiss her goodbye. Afraid he would. But equally afraid he wouldn’t.
“I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty tomorrow night,” he said before gripping her coat pockets and tugging her close.
She wanted to resist but for some reason didn’t. “I’m dressing up, right?”
“Whatever you want to wear will be fine.”
“Dinner? I mean, they’re serving dinner?”
“Yes.” He leaned in close and settled the question of would he or wouldn’t he. He did. And she gave in to the kiss like this was how all their time together should end.
He held her in place with his hands in her coat pockets, not actually holding her in any other way. Their mouths were the only skin-on-skin contact, but it was enough to leave her dizzy and aware that his bedroom was only two stories above them. His slow, firm, sensuous assault did more to turn her on and rob her of balance than anything else he could possibly have done. It was like he’d uncovered the key to destroying her resolve, but it was a key she hadn’t known existed until now.
When the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of the driver, her relief was as great as her disappointment, and neither made her particularly happy.
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