“The thing is I’m a better celebrity than I am a chef.”
He didn’t know about that. She was quickly on her way to being a washed-up celebrity. But on that, he held his tongue. “Your show is good, Gina. I don’t even cook and I watch it.” He left out that he especially enjoyed the T&A part of the program. “But your cooking”—he held his hand over his heart—“incomparable.”
“Don’t get carried away. Whatever skills I had I’ve lost. And even when I was good, I wasn’t Thomas Keller or Nancy Silverton good.”
“I disagree. And I’ve eaten at the French Laundry, Per Se, Bouchon, and Ad Hoc. I freaking lived at La Brea Bakery and spent my childhood eating at Campanile before Nancy and Mark split up. You’re every bit as good as them.”
“Nancy and Mark?” She rolled her eyes at his familiar use of Chef Silverton and Chef Peel’s first names.
“Hey, my parents are Wendy and Dan Dalton.” His lips curved up. “They handled the press on the divorce.”
“I’m not doing anything innovative or extraordinary,” she said, getting back on point. “Everything I do is basic. My signature is strawberry shortcake. Enough said, right?”
“Isn’t Nancy famous for grilled cheese sandwiches? And Keller, a version of an Oreo cookie. It’s all in the execution.”
She shook her head. “You know what? For a cowboy you’re an awful big know-it-all.”
“Nah, I’m just smart as hell. And hungry.” He got to his feet before he did something stupid like kiss her again. Because the mood in the room was definitely veering in that direction.
He stuck his head in the fridge, wishing he could stick the lower half of his body in there too. All of Gina’s leftovers were gone. He’d powered through her baked ziti in less than two days. “You want something?”
“I gorged on Charlie’s cheesy beef quesadillas. I couldn’t eat another thing.”
“Quesadillas, huh?” He searched his dairy drawer for cheese, found a package of stale tortillas on the top shelf, and piled his ingredients on the counter.
“You want me to make them for you?” she asked as he fumbled with a cheese grater.
“I can do it.” Although hers would be edible. His, not so much.
She came over and grabbed the butter before he closed the fridge door. “Go sit down. Watching you is painful.”
Not half as painful as watching her bending over to preheat his oven in that short skirt.
“You have any steak?”
He looked at her pointedly. “I own a cattle ranch.” Then he got up and opened his freezer.
“Holy cow.” She laughed at her own pun, which really wasn’t that funny. “You’ve been holding out on me, Dalton.”
“It’s fresh,DeRose. Help yourself. But it’s a little late for beef.” Nighttime had never stopped him from grabbing a burger when he was out on the road on assignment. But when he was home, he tried to adhere to somewhat of a normal schedule, which included not eating heavy meals before bedtime.
“I wanted to test out Charlie’s recipe. With a twist, of course.” She eyed the freezer shelves filled with various cuts wrapped in white butcher paper, each package efficiently labeled. “I’ll take you up on your offer, though. Not tonight. But I can’t wait to play with your meat.” It took her a second, then her face flushed. “Yeah, that sounded…weird.”
He thought of a dozen double entendres he could fire back, but was afraid it would hurt to talk. Instead, he concealed the lower half of his body underneath the granite ledge of the kitchen island while she finished grating the hunk of cheddar cheese he’d butchered.
“Not what I would normally use, but it’s all you have.” She gazed around his kitchen. “You have a red onion?”
“Maybe in the pantry.” He started to get up and thought better of it.
She didn’t seem to notice and found what she was looking for.
“I don’t know how old that is.” Hell, he couldn’t even remember buying it.
“Not old. I brought it for thepanzanellasalad.” She filled a bowl with apple cider vinegar—another staple he didn’t know he had—sugar and salt, then began slicing the onion. “Nice knife. Mine’s better, though.”
“What’s that for?” He bobbed his chin at the vinegar mixture.
“It’s to pickle the onion. Technically, it takes an hour. But I won’t make you wait.” Her lips ticked up in a teasing smile.
