She tucked her legs up under her, curling into the wicker chair like a cat. She studied him for a moment, brow pinched. “You really want to learn?”
“Absolutely. I’d love to know all your grandmother’s old recipes. I am opening a restaurant, you know.”
“Okay. I’ll teach you whatever you want to know.” Playfulness tugged at her lips. “I’m adding my own conditions though.”
“All right. Name them.”
“You don’t serve them at the restaurant unless you get them exactly like Gram’s.”
“You’ve got it.”
“And you wear one of her frilly aprons during every lesson.”
“Maria never mentioned you were kinky.”
“She didn’t know everything about me.” The giggle that purred out of her stirred him from head to toe.
“I can indulge your kinks. You’ve got a deal.”
Chapter Seven
She watched as he jogged back down the boardwalk, the muscles flexing in his darkly tanned legs. The breeze was warm but she shivered anyway. “Thank you, Gram, your scones are magic, as always. But why couldn’t you have made him come around more when I was younger? Would have saved me a lot of heartache with all those other assholes.”
A flash of pain seared through her stomach as she remembered the fight with Todd. Fight. That wasn’t right. It wasn’t even an argument, more a statement of fact. They were over. Plain and simple. She wasn’t even sure why it hurt so much. He wasn’t the love of her life and she knew it. They had so little in common. They’d barely spent any time together in the past year. It was more like a comfortable habit. She liked knowing she had a boyfriend waiting for her at home. Liked being a couple on holidays and at events. Now it all seemed ridiculous. He’d been an illusion, never really hers. Humiliation washed over her. She hated being the last to know things, and she was certain all of Manhattan had seen him out and about with every woman he’d dated on every trip she’d taken. You’re such a fool.
She headed into the kitchen to wrap up the scones then poured herself another glass of tea. Gram’s recipe book was still out on the dining room table. I wonder what he’ll want to learn how to make. Images flashed into her mind of the two of them, in the kitchen, the exotic scents of Maria’s cooking floating through the air. Another shiver ran through her. He’s so handsome. And sweet. She imagined what it would be like to feel his strong arms wrapped around her. Her eyes drifted closed and she stroked her arm. Would his hands be firm or gentle? Hot or cool? The flutter in her stomach raced down between her legs. One step at a time. Right now all he wants are your recipes.
She flipped open her laptop and refreshed her email. Just as she was starting to read, the house phone rang. No caller ID. Gram’s voice sounded in her head. Why would I spend money to find out who’s calling when I can just answer the phone and find out? “Hello?”
“Oh, good, you left the land line on.” James’s deep voice was unmistakable. Her lips curled into a smile and she bit her lower lip.
“Who is this?” she asked, trying to keep from giggling.
“Oh, sorry, it’s James. I…”
Laughter tumbled out in a breathy snort. “I know, I’m just giving you a hard time.”
“Wha… Ah, I see. Nicely done.”
“What’s up? You need another scone?” She wound the phone cord around her finger, feeling like a teenager once again.
“I was hoping for a first cooking lesson. The flooring guy cancelled on me so I’ve got the whole afternoon free, if you’re available.”
Available? Yes, I’m available for whatever you’d like. “Sure. Do you want to do it here or at your place?” Oh my God, did I really say that?
He chuckled. “Wherever you’d like.”
Did I imagine it or did his voice get even deeper? “How about here? I know where Gram keeps everything so it’ll be easier for the first time.” First time. Jesus, I did it again. “We can always do it again at your place if you don’t catch on right away.” What the hell is wrong with me?
“Sounds great. Three o’clock okay with you?”
“I’ll be here.”
“How about if I take you out for dinner after? Check out the competition, for the restaurant.”
Is he asking me out? “Okay, sure. Thanks.”
She hung up feeling like she’d just been asked to the prom. Oh my God. What do I wear for a first cooking lesson and a first date? Shit.
Her bedroom was in shambles. Clothes were strewn all around and her suitcase was still a jumble of everything she’d crammed in when she rushed out of the apartment. She dumped the contents of her other bag onto the floor and scooped up an armload of laundry. The black halter dress. Casual enough to look like a simple beach dress but add high heels and some dangly earrings…perfect.
She piled the clothes on top of the washing machine and reached for the detergent. The smell took her straight back to folding clothes with Gram. She closed her eyes and breathed it in, comforted by the aroma. No matter where she’d lived and how far she’d traveled, that was one scent that always made her feel like she was home. This is my home. For now, at least.
She glanced at her watch. Two hours and he’d be there. For the first time since she arrived, the summer felt like it had when she was a kid, filled with possibilities.
James showered and shaved debating whether to take her to Antonio’s or the Back Bay. Antonio’s was more romantic, but Back Bay was trendier, probably more what she was used to with her lifestyle. Plus it was on the water, always a nice touch. He could see her now, the breeze blowing her hair off her shoulders, her eyes sparkling like the moonlight on the bay. Jesus, get a grip. All she’s agreed to is giving you some of her grandmother’s old recipes. Not even. Teaching them to you. He didn’t care. As long as it meant spending time with her, it sounded good.
He trotted up the back steps to her house and rapped on the screen door.
“Come on in,” she called.
The room was dim and shadowy in comparison to the bright sun of the boardwalk. It took his eyes a minute to adjust, then he caught sight of her standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She’d changed into a short black dress, fitted waist, loose and swingy over her curvy hips. His pulse picked up speed.
“I’ve got everything ready.” She turned and sauntered across the kitchen, barefoot and ridiculously alluring as she waved for him to follow. The sight of her bare back, the ties from her neckline dangling enticingly between her shoulder blades, was almost enough to stop him in his tracks. His fingers itched to tug on the stings and unwrap her like an unexpected gift.
“You look great.”
A slow smile spread across her lips, her thick lashes lowered over her eyes, making her look shy and irresistible. “Thanks. You look good too.” Her brow furrowed. “But something’s missing.” She reached into the drawer next to the stove and pulled out two aprons. “Sunflowers? Or rolling pins?”
He chuckled.
“Laugh all you want, no apron, no lesson. Besides, you don’t want to get flour all over your shirt.” She looked him up and down, and his skin tingled under her gaze.
“I think I’m more of a rolling pin kinda guy.” He took the navy blue apron, letting his fingers brush against hers. The fabric was soft and worn. He slipped the top loop over his head then reached behind to tie it closed.
“Here, let me do that.” She stepped behind him, easing the apron strings from his hands. Having her so close, her hands up against his back as she formed the bow, knocked the air from his lungs. He glanced over his shoulder, catching a whiff of her perfume. Jasmine? Honeysuckle? He could practically taste her. His mouth watered.
All too quickly she moved aside, reaching for the stack of measuring cups on the counter.
“Do you want to learn the cream scones? Or the milk ones?”
“You’re the teacher. You plan the lessons. I’ll just do as I’m told.”
Her eyebrows arched high. “Good to know. Let’s start with the milk.
I think they’re easier to work with, though they take a bit of hand work.”
Hand work sounds good. “Lead the way.”
“Measure out two cups of flour and put it in that big bowl.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She scowled at him but he could tell she was enjoying his teasing. He scooped out the flour. “Now what?”
She tipped the canister of salt so that some poured into the palm of her hand. “Add a pinch of salt.” She held her hand out to him, and he reached in then sprinkled the white crystals over the flour. She took a pinch herself and tossed it over her shoulder before dumping the rest of the handful into the sink.
“Is that part of the recipe? Scattering salt around the kitchen?”
She giggled. “Sort of. It was one of Gram’s rules. Bad luck not to do it.”
“Noted.”
“Okay, now for the hands-on part.”
“You’ve got my full attention.” And then some. He shifted his weight, thankful to have the apron draped in front of him.
She pulled a block of butter out of the fridge. “Chop this into small cubes and toss them with the flour, then you have to rub them in until it’s all coarse and crumbly.”
He sliced through the butter with the large chef’s knife, trying to concentrate on what he was doing when all he wanted to do was turn and look at her. “Like this?” he asked as he started to mash the butter into the flour with his fingers.
“Not quite. You don’t want the heat from your hands to melt the butter so you have to rub with a rolling motion. Here, look.”
He watched as she sank her fingers into the flour and gently ran her thumbs across her fingertips. He imagined her hands on his body, sunk into his hair, massaging across his back, down his chest. Dense heat gathered inside him, radiating out in all directions.
“You try.”
Her hands were still in the bowl, continuing to rub. He slipped his hands between hers, scooping up the crumbly mixture and pressing bits of butter between his thumb and fingers. “I’d say you’ve got a bit more finesse.”
“You’re doing fine. Just keep rubbing.” She smirked and bit her lip.
Jesus. You’re killing me.
When the bowl was full of pearly crumbs she shook her hands and reached for the measuring cup, adding equal parts of milk and water to the bowl. “Stir it until it’s barely combined, then you knead it the rest of the way.”
“Sounds good.” He stirred the mixture until a soft dough formed.
“Here.” She reached into the canister of flour and fluffed some against her hands. “You next.”
He held out his hand and she sprinkled flour onto him. It felt cool and silky as he rubbed his palms together.
“You take half and I’ll take the other half.” She dusted the countertop with some more flour then divided the dough into two equal piles. “Knead gently.”
He watched as she worked the dough, her fingers digging in, turning, flipping. His throat went dry. He tried to mimic her motions but he was too distracted.
“That’s good,” she said. “Now roll it out into a snake, like this.”
She took the handful of dough and began rolling it between her hands. He had to work hard to keep his jaw from going slack. You’ve got to be kidding me. I never thought I’d wish I was a scone.
By the time they’d cut the dough into triangles and placed them on the baking sheet he was a goner. All he could think about was kissing her. She dipped her fingers into a small bowl of milk and coated each bit of dough with the white liquid, an action that caused what was left of his brain cells to go up in a puff of smoke. She bent down to put the pans in the oven, and he thought he might keel over from lack of blood flow to his brain as he watched her ass.
“You want some iced tea?” she asked as she rinsed her hands.
“Sure.”
He fought the urge to pour the icy drink over his head to cool the heat that coursed through him. At this rate I won’t make it to dinner alive.
Chapter Eight
The breeze picked up as James walked Kay home after dinner. They strolled down the gravel driveway and he followed her onto the porch. She fumbled for her keys, wondering if he’d want to come in or if this was goodnight. She’d hoped that maybe he’d have taken her hand on the walk home, but he’d kept them shoved deep into his jeans pockets for the entire walk. Butterflies raced around her stomach. Maybe he only thinks of me as a friend. Disappointment settled over her, a familiar and unwanted sensation. “Thanks for dinner,” she said. “The food was amazing. Not as good as your soup and oysters, though.”
The smile he gave her was enough to shatter her heart into pieces. “You don’t have to resort to flattery to get me to keep feeding you, you know.”
“Well, I know how fragile the male ego can be.”
“Ah, I see. So you were hedging your bets. I see your game plan. What happened to that sweet little girl I used to be so fond of?” The breeze made his hair flutter down over his eyes, and she felt like she might liquefy if she looked at him much longer.
“Used to be?” She could hardly breathe.
He shifted, stepping closer. “You’re certainly not a little girl anymore.”
“I’m not that sweet anymore either.”
“No?” His voice was barely a whisper as his face moved toward hers.
She shook her head, unable to take her eyes off his.
He reached up to stroke her hair, his strong fingers curled, cupping the base of her skull. “Let’s see.” His lips brushed hers, a wisp of heat.
She closed her eyes, tipping her head back. His mouth made a second pass across hers, gentle, questioning. She answered with a low moan and rose up onto her toes. That was all the encouragement James seemed to need. His free arm wrapped around her, pulling her closer. The tip of his tongue trailed against her lower lip and her mouth sprang open, hungry for more. She sank her fingers into his hair, cool and silky, soft as rabbit’s fur.
For all the times she’d imagined what it would be like to kiss him, she’d never managed to capture the intensity of the actual moment. Time seemed to slow. Nothing else existed. Their tongues tangled in an endless dance as his fingers massaged the back of her neck, leaving her loose and molten. When he pulled back it was as though he was taking away her oxygen. She’d forgotten how to breathe.
He brushed his nose against hers and placed another soft kiss on her lips. “Still sweet,” he said.
Her brain was mush. She couldn’t form a thought, let alone a full sentence.
He stroked her hair again, tucking it behind her ear. “I’d better let you go while you still think I’m a gentleman.”
She ran her hand down his arm, reluctant to stop touching him. When am I going to see him again? She was afraid to ask. She didn’t want him to leave. Her brain sputtered and she blurted out, “You forgot your scones.”
A mischievous smile spread across his face, crinkling the skin around his eyes. “No, I didn’t. I was hoping if I left them here I could swing by in the morning for breakfast. I’ll bring the coffee.”
Excitement bubbled inside her. “Well, okay, as long as you bring coffee.” He wants to see me again. She had to stop herself from bouncing up and down.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He leaned in for a final kiss, slow and delicious.
She rested against the porch railing, watching him trot down the steps, her entire body still tingling.
He turned when he hit the bottom step. “Hey, how do you take your coffee?”
“Splash of cream, three sugars.”
“Dark and sweet.”
She couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “Yep. I like my coffee like I like my men.”
His laughter rang rich and deep in the dense night air. “Sweet dreams, Kay.”
Kay practically floated back inside her house. It smelled like scones. She drifted back to the kitchen, breathing in the buttery scent. He kissed me. It didn’t seem real. Her tongue traced over her lips, tasting him. He
actually kissed me. She layered the scones into a round metal tin and sealed it tightly. And tomorrow he’s coming back.
James’s apartment was quiet and empty, but his body was still humming. Jesus, that was some kiss. Sweet didn’t begin to describe her. He could have gone on kissing her all night. Stopping had been next to impossible. It had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed to keep him from bracing her against the side of the house and having his way with her.
He had no trouble at all picturing what it would have been like to have tugged at the string at the back of her dress and let the top drift down to expose her breasts. He could still feel her leaning in toward him, the honeyed scent of her enticing him, making him crave more. Would she have pulled away? Stopped me? Or would she have been as hungry as I was?
He could imagine her silky legs wrapping around him, her sexy curves molding against his body. Jesus, you’re in trouble. He couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so drawn to a woman. Sure, there’d been plenty he was attracted to, lusted after, but this was different. Kay had a pull on him that was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Everything was heightened. The desire to protect her and ravish her fought with equal intensity inside him.
He stripped off his shirt, wishing he was still with her. The ceiling fan spun over his bed, sending a gentle breeze across his bare chest. In his mind it was the soft caress of her hands. He stepped out of his jeans and boxers and fell into bed. The sheets were cool beneath his overheated body. His hand went straight to his erection, closing around its solid length. He’d been at least semi-hard since mid-way through the scone lesson. His balls were heavy and aching. Images of Kay swarmed around him as he stroked. Her fingers rolling the thick rope of dough, her breath sweet against his lips, her tongue warm and velvety against his. Tension coiled white and hot deep within him as he imagined her against him, soft and inviting, surrounding him. A low groan rumbled out of him as he gave in to the sensations.
Then, Again Page 4