He twisted, dragging the last side of the crib in place. His shirt rode up and she caught a glimpse of the dragon’s tail across his hip, the one she’d explored and longed to explore again.
Alice had denied herself the right to touch him for all the right reasons and now she had to live with the consequences.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Nico flipped the light switch in the CG kitchen, squinting at the harsh light.
“I’ll grab my laptop and my notes then head home to do my edits.” Alice disappeared up the stairs, her jeans hugging her ass.
Niko dragged his gaze from the enticing sight. Lusting after her was useless, not to mention physically torturous. It had been difficult enough to deal with her sitting on the back of his motorcycle during the ride from Grams’s Kids, her body pressed tight to his own. Sighing, he strode into the quiet kitchen and tossed his coat on the desk chair. While the rest of the world would be sleeping, he still had to make rum balls for a catering job. There was only a week left until the Christmas Eve show and he had back-to-back banquets up until then. His legs ached thinking about it.
He retrieved the dough from the refrigerator and shut the door when Alice entered, a soft flush on her cheeks. She’d never looked more beautiful or more enticing.
“You’re working?” she asked, one arched brow raised.
He eyed her laptop with an eyebrow raise of his own. “You’re working?”
“Touché.” She wrinkled her nose and sat the computer and her purse on the desk. “Do you need some help?”
“Sure, I never turn down help.” Or time spent with you. He smiled, more pleased than he should be. She wasn’t eager to leave his company any more than he wanted her to go. Good. He wasn’t imagining the growing connection between them.
While she washed her hands, he snatched up a bottle of rum. It was time to numb his desires with alcohol. Pouring two shots, he added a sprig of mint he used for garnishes and lined them up on the table.
She moved to his side and eyed the rum. “I get the rum in the recipe but why the shots?”
“Number two rule in my kitchen. You don’t make rum balls without taking a shot.” And since I can’t touch you, I need a drink.
“You made that up.” She accused, elbowing him in the side.
The silky material of her white sweater brushed his arm, soft like her skin had been under his lips. He lifted the shot glasses and handed one to her. “Number three rule, never question the wisdom of the kitchen rule maker.”
“You really want me to drink this?” She brought the rum to her nose and offered a visible shudder. Lowering the glass, she contemplated the liquid inside.
“I really do.” He raised his shot glass and waited until she met his direct gaze. Damn, she was tempting. “Ready?”
She nodded, leaned her head back, and did the shot. The action exposed her neck, the hollows shadowed in the harsh industrial lights. He yearned to explore the sleek column with his lips and inhale her scent. Frustration reared its ugly head and he drank his own shot, wincing at the bite of the liquor. He had it bad, a concept that continued to haunt him.
“Geez, that’s strong.” She dropped her glass on the metal surface, coughing as she lifted the back of her hand to her mouth.
“Has a bit of kick if you’re not used to doing shots.” Niko removed a container of coconut and grabbed a stack of sheet pans, sliding them on the table. Time to turn his attention to the safety of work.
“You think?” She asked, her voice raspy from the alcohol, adding to the sexiness she projected. “I don’t do shots often. Not since my twenties. My mother was an alcoholic so I try to refrain from more than two glasses of wine.”
“Can you grab the wax paper from the pantry? Also, two packages of red candy cups?” He popped the top off the container and eyed the dough. Technically, it was a non-baked cookie but they were popular among the Christmas party crowd and profitable. “A shot of rum and a glass of wine have roughly the same alcohol content.”
Alice returned with the paper and leaned over the table, arms stretched as she placed the paper on the pans. The neckline of her sweater gaped, exposing the top of her breasts before it fell back into place. He went to the sink to wash his hands before he did something stupid like grope her.
“True, but I can make a glass of wine last longer and I like the flavor of it.”
After donning a pair of gloves, he snatched up some cocoa and returned to the dough. Taking the smaller of the sheet pans, he dumped some coconut onto it and sprinkled the cocoa over the mixture. “Making rum balls is pretty simple. We want them about an inch in size.”
He grabbed a bit of dough, shaped it, and rolled it into the coconut/cocoa mixture. Once done, he placed it in one of the candy cups.
Alice dipped her fingers in the mix, jaw set in concentration. She’d grabbed too much dough, but he didn’t dare correct her-- she’d figure it out on her own. Wrinkling her nose, she formed the ball and sat it next to the one he created. “Pretty simple for you. Don’t you have a measuring spoon or something?”
“Sure, I do,” he said, rolling another ball. Although he’d known her a small amount of time, he was getting pretty good at gauging her moods. She was a complex woman and he liked the puzzle she presented.
“Well?” She removed some of the excess from her ball, re-rolled it, and placed it next to his. It was perfect.
