by Baird, Ginny
“What do you mean?” she asked, taken aback.
“I have confession to make,” he said. His voice was low and raspy. “I’m one helluva baker.”
She sputtered a laugh. “Go on!”
“I’m also a dynamite teacher.”
Was it sheer coincidence that in the background a song about giving love lessons started to play? Matt could teach her all right, probably a lot of things. A man like him was sure to have had his share of the ladies.
“Are you now?” she said, backing up a step.
He’d be damned if she didn’t look enticing, just standing there with that little pout on her lips. Matt took another sip of wine, tuned in to the music. I got a brand-new way of teaching, I’ll give you homework every night. Yeah, I got a brand-new way of teaching, I’ll give you homework every night. Gonna make you hug and kiss me…ha-ha…until you got it right… “You’re not afraid?”
“Of learning something new?” She pulled herself up a little straighter and squared her shoulders. “Of course not.”
Now, when I’ve taught you all I know, you’re going to have a love degree. When I’ve taught you all I know, you’re going to have a love degree. You’re going be a love professor, and soon you’ll be teaching me.
That was all the encouragement he needed to grab an apron off a nearby hook and tie it on. “Did you bring any sugar?”
“I brought a small container, enough for what I use in my coffee.”
She produced the square Tupperware, and he whistled. “Got quite a sweet tooth, have you?”
Her cute face reddened all over. “I brought extra.”
“Well, that’s good, extra good. And, I’m betting we both brought butter.” He grinned, his enthusiasm building. He was going to do this. Teach Sarah to bake cookies from scratch. Even if forcing himself to keep his hands off her sumptuous body killed him. Man, didn’t she look sexy offering up her sugar that way? “I brought eggs and a bag of flour for coating fried fish.”
She gasped as he set it on the counter. “A whole five-pound bag? Got quite an appetite, do you?”
He shook a finger at her and grinned. “Got me there. Now, all we need is vanilla.”
“Think there’s any in the house?”
He turned to check supplies in the pantry, figuring he could replace anything they used later. After a few seconds passed, he held up a small dark bottle.
“Bingo.”
Sarah didn’t know how Matt made it all look so easy. They didn’t even have cookie cutters, but he’d fashioned some makeshift from various-sized drinking glasses turned upside-down to use their rims as cutting surfaces. “It’s incredible how you figured all that out,” she told him, duly impressed.
“And you thought I’d only studied law at Georgetown.”
“You didn’t learn this in law school,” she said astutely. “You learned this at home.”
“Guilty,” he said, not looking culpable in the least. “It was all about food at the Salvatore house, especially with my folks running the restaurant.”
“That must have been something,” she said a bit wistfully. “Growing up with a big happy family and so many siblings.”
“We managed,” he said with a grin. “Managed to get into a lot of trouble and drive our parents crazy. Though I understand I’ll have this coming back at me one day.”
“What do you mean?”
“What goes around comes around. I have no illusions about my own kids not giving me grief, in one way or another, when the time comes. I’ll more or less accept it as my due.”
It was easy to guess that Matt would make a terrific dad. His life experience had primed him for it. Naturally, he wanted kids. Not five children perhaps, but at least one or two.
“Your turn,” he said, handing over the rolling pin. “Why don’t you try?”
Sarah took the weighty implement in her hand, not knowing quite what to do with it. Naturally she understood she was to press it to that little ball of dough and flatten it out, but she wasn’t so certain her results would come out as stellar at Matt’s. The truth was, Sarah had never been instructed much in the way of cooking at all. And, for one reason or another had never felt much inclined to learn. Her mom was a restaurant kind of girl who considered prepackaged dinners sold in the frozen section as good as homemade. She’d probably passed that gene on to Sarah. Nearly everything Sarah ate came out of some sort of box. Not that she was prepared to tell Mr. I’m-Italian-and-Cook-Everything-from-Scratch at the moment. He probably thought she’d only packed frozen foods for her trip to the beach.
“Go on,” he said kindly. “Just put your weight into it evenly and give it a go.”
Sarah smiled uncertainly over her shoulder. “All right,” she said, determined to try. She centered her gaze on the big mound of glop on the counter, wondering how she was going to press that into a perfect one-quarter-inch slab the way he had. She grabbed each handle on the rolling pin and gingerly pressed forward. The blob squished slightly, but the rolling pin stuck. Not much else happened.
“Put your back into it,” Matt prodded.
She glanced at him cheering her on from the sidelines and then gave it her all, heaving her might into that little wooden spindle in her hands. Dough splatted out like an egg cracked fresh from its shell, transparently thin on the cutting surface. “Oh no!” she cried with dismay. Even she knew there was no way to bake cookies from that.
“Here, let me help.” He sidled up behind her and calmly collected the mess, transforming it into a new ball. “It’s all in the technique,” he said, his voice a light tickle at the side of her neck. He drew nearer still, enveloping her in his warmth, and every inch of her came alive. He smelled so good and manly standing so close, the sleeves of his sweatshirt just brushing hers as he positioned himself around her.
He stepped a fraction of an inch closer, and Sarah feared she might faint from his proximity. It was intoxicating being enveloped in his arms, his solid chest pressing into her back as he steadied his hands around hers on the rolling pin. The “Love Lessons” song had ended, and a more provocative one had started to play. “Just like this,” he said, swaying forward. She moved with him, letting him lead as dough glided into a flat plane. “And like this…” he whispered in her ear, lifting the rolling pin and repeating the process again as the sexy music played on.
Sarah felt breathless, as if she might faint at any moment, lost in the rhythm of Matt’s embrace.
He held her more tightly in his arms and whispered, his voice husky. “What do you think of home cooking?”
In many ways, this felt more intimate than dancing, almost as if they were in bed. But Sarah had never been with a man who moved with such grace and care for her comfort.
“I think I like it,” she said, barely breathing the words.
He stopped rolling, wrapping his fingers around hers.
“These are going to be damn good cookies.”
“Yes,” she agreed.
The seconds ticked by like hours as Sarah’s heart beat furiously. Was it her imagination, or could she feel Matt’s heart beating in his chest behind her as well? All she could think of was Matt turning her in his arms and kissing her, just as wonderfully as he had on that dance floor all that time ago. But then the kitchen timer went off, indicating the previous batch of cookies had baked.
Matt nestled his chin on her shoulder. “I think we’re done.”
“What?” she asked, her knees on the verge of collapse. The timer beeped louder, intruding once more on their moment. He lightly squeezed her hands in his.
“The dough, Sarah. It looks like it’s perfect.”
And it did, a perfect quarter-inch slab. They were ready to cut.
Matt broke his embrace and headed for the oven, which couldn’t have burned any hotter than she felt right now.
Sarah excused herself for a moment and strode quickly to her bathroom, where she splashed cold water on her face. Then, she dampened a washcloth to dab the front, sides, and bac
k of her neck. That Matt Salvatore was one hot man in the kitchen. Look at the mess she was in, and all from one teeny little glass of wine. But inwardly Sarah knew it hadn’t just been the alcohol that had sent her head spinning and her heart racing. That had more to do with being deliciously wrapped up in the sexy Italian’s arms while moving to that sultry music. When he captured her in his deep blue gaze, liquor was beside the point. She was drunk on him, Matt Salvatore the man, and all the wonderful things he was.
And one of those, Sarah reminded herself sternly, was someone who wanted to be a father. She swallowed hard, gathering her nerve to go back out there and face him. She needed to nix the wine and find a way to get through the rest of this day on more even footing. Perhaps she could offer to fix dinner and shoo Matt out of the kitchen for the next little while. There was clearly too much combustible heat in the room for the two of them. Then after dinner, maybe they could do something harmless like watch a holiday movie. One of those funny family films. Romance, right now, was a no-go. It was simple to see how quickly she could fall for Matt. The scary thing was, Sarah worried that she’d started falling already. She needed to stop herself before she got in deeper, in order to avoid a most certain and devastating outcome. Walking away from Matt with a broken heart.
The second Sarah had cleared the room, Matt set the cookie tray on the stovetop and pulled an ice cube from the freezer, pressing it to the back of his flaming neck. It melted on contact, sending little dribbles racing down the line of his back. Sarah had set him virtually on fire. She’d been so subtle and giving in his arms, yielding to his every move. No wonder he’d wanted to take her to bed before. It wasn’t just the way she kissed, it was in the sexy way she carried herself, seemed to have complete control of her body. Well…except for that sickness thing. She was definitely out of control then. But everyone’s allowed a slipup now and again. He’d had his fair share of his own, particularly in his younger days.
Matt rocked the open freezer door back and forth, rapidly fanning his face with puffs of icy air. It was working already. He was feeling better. Next best thing to a cold shower, he supposed, hoping Sarah hadn’t noticed his level of excitement before she’d raced out of here. Or maybe she had, and that was why she’d bolted like a scared rabbit. Matt felt suddenly consumed by guilt, wondering if he’d done something wrong by laying it on so thick. It wasn’t exactly like he’d planned their cooking lesson to turn extra hot. It just serendipitously had. Of course, once it had headed in that direction, he’d done nothing overt to stop it. He surely would have if Sarah had protested. Yet she seemed to be enjoying their joint venture into the culinary arts just as much as he had. Matt hoped he hadn’t imagined that. He would feel awful if she felt he’d come on too strong and that had put her off. For Matt was growing attracted to Sarah, way attracted. And in his heart of hearts, he couldn’t believe he’d gotten her signals that wrong. She was growing attracted to him as well. But Matt needed to be careful not to push it. Maybe the best thing to do would be force himself to back off a bit and let Sarah take the lead. If she was truly as interested as his instinct said, within the next couple of days she definitely would.
Sarah returned looking all fresh-faced with her hair pulled up in a ponytail. By this time, Matt had already washed the baking dishes and was busy putting them away. “I was going to help you with that,” she protested, a little after the fact.
“It’s all right. I didn’t mind it. Besides, the kitchen needed to be tidied before I start dinner.”
“Oh no, you don’t.” Sarah bossily entered the kitchen and took him by the elbow. He set down his dishtowel with surprise. “You’ve done all the cooking you’re going to for the next little while.”
He was mildly disappointed by that. Mostly, he’d been hoping they’d do some more cooking together. The good thing was that Sarah appeared bright and cheery, not like she was upset about anything. Perhaps she had enjoyed being close to him but was just too conservative to say so. She handed him his glass of wine and steered him toward the sofa. “Why don’t you sit, and I’ll refill that for you? I’m doing the cooking tonight.”
That sounded super to Matt. He could relax in front of the fire and briefly check the score on the game. “Mind if I turn on some football? Just for a moment.”
“Watch it as long as you’d like,” she called from the kitchen with a smile. She pulled two frozen pizzas from the freezer, and Matt chuckled to himself, wondering if back in Maryland she did any home cooking at all. Not that it mattered to him. He was sure the dinner would taste just as delicious as if she’d made the pizza dough herself. All he had to do was look in Sarah’s eyes and everything seemed better. Even being trapped at the beach in a storm was starting to seem pretty awesome.
Chapter Five
The next day was just as enjoyable. It was still too nasty to go outdoors, with very high winds and lightning. But inside, they found plenty to do. They’d watched a movie together, read companionably by the fire, and had taken turns cooking. Now they were settled at the dining room table, sharing milk and cookies over Holiday Scrabble.
“Not fair!” he challenged with a laugh as she chalked up another triple word score. “You never told me that you were a Scrabble shark.”
“It’s how you play the game.” She playfully met his eyes. “No mercy.” She didn’t show any either, beating him in a close match. Afterward, they were both tired and ready to call it a day. It had been such a good one, Sarah found herself really looking forward to another with Matt. And what was special about tomorrow was it was Christmas Eve.
“Thanks for another fun day,” she said after they’d put away the game.
“Thanks for scorching me in Scrabble. Something tells me I could learn a thing or two from you.”
She laughed, feeling lighthearted. The fact was that Matt made her happier than anyone ever had. It was a fantastic feeling, almost like having a partner and friend who was also very easy on the eyes. Sarah cautioned herself against thinking of partnerships with Matt. Once he knew the truth about her, he wouldn’t be able to think of her in that way, just as her last serious boyfriend hadn’t. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” They stood in close proximity now, only inches apart. He stepped forward, closing the small space between them. It was silly to think he might kiss her, but she secretly wished for it just the same. He’d been so gentlemanly in keeping his distance since their cooking lesson, Sarah had started wondering what she’d been doing wrong. Then she reminded herself that things were playing out just the way she’d wanted them to. But if this was the case, why did the outcome leave her feeling sad and conflicted? If only there was a way to make things work, she would find it. But at the moment, everything seemed impossible.
“Sleep tight. I hope you have pleasant dreams.”
She held his gaze, knowing her dreams would include him. “You too.”
“The storm’s supposed to let up tomorrow,” he said, his voice raspy.
Sarah’s heart skipped a beat. She certainly hoped not. Not if it meant that Matt would be leaving. She was still wrestling with so much in her heart and head, trying to sort everything out. And that was so hard to do with him standing close enough to hold her.
“Of course, even if the roads clear,” he continued, “that ferry won’t be up and running until late in the week.”
Sarah breathed a sigh of relief, remembering. “That’s right, the ferry,” she said, backing up a step. “Can’t go anywhere without the big boat.” Wow, didn’t he look gorgeous just standing there in all of his studly beauty, a few days of beard stubble lightly framing his face? Never had a man appealed to her so much.
He raised his brow, watching her with amusement.
“You might want to turn around. You might bump into something.”
She held up her hand in agreement and whirled on her heels. Quickly enough, she hoped, to disguise her rabid blush. She’d been so intent on ogling Matt she hadn’t wanted to take her eyes off of him. Him and that beautiful bo
dy and his gorgeous blue eyes. It must have been a subconscious desire, because she hadn’t even realized she was doing it.
Sarah ducked behind her bedroom door, closing it with a gasp. Christmas Day was fast approaching, and she could think of only one thing she wanted. Having Matt take her once again in his arms.
Matt approached Sarah as she stood sipping her coffee by the oceanside sliding glass door. She looked beautiful this morning in a pretty pink sweater and slightly worn jeans, her long, loose hair damp from her morning shower.
“Looks like it’s still coming down out there,” he said, referencing the rain.
“Yeah, but not as hard as before.” She smiled sweetly over the rim of her cup, and Matt had the crazy notion that hers was a smile he wouldn’t mind seeing at eight in the morning any old time of the year. He was just glad he was getting this unexpected chance to spend the holiday with her. It was way better than intruding on Robert and Margaret’s first Christmas as parents. The view was a lot nicer too. And Matt wasn’t thinking about the drenched stretch of sand ahead of them.
“Thanks for making the coffee,” she said. “It was a treat finding it ready when I got up.”
“It’s no problem, really. I set it to brew before getting dressed and right after phoning the ferry.”
Her delicate brow rose as she turned toward him. “What’s the word?” She didn’t say it, but Matt could tell she wasn’t any more interested in that boat taking off today than he was.
“Still down for the duration.” Even though the winds had abated, storm damage to the docks would take some time to repair. Some of it wouldn’t even get started until the rain had fully stopped.
“That’s too bad,” she said, faking her disappointment badly.
“Hmm, yes. A total shame.”
He studied her a long while, lost in the heat of her stare. While it didn’t seem possible, each time he looked in those dark brown eyes, they appeared even more enticing.