* * *
I feltCole’s eyes following me around the kitchen as I prepared dinner. He had a briefcase out and was looking over his papers, but every time I glanced at him, I caught him staring. I may have exaggerated the sway in my hips as I sashayed to and from the fridge and stove. I told myself it was just the high heels making me walk that way. I didn’t want to admit how much I liked his attention.
He claimed he was attracted to me, and in this moment, I felt it. We could cut the sexual tension with a knife. Could he not feel it?
Maybe he was a robot.
I grumbled as I cracked eggs into a bowl.
“What’s that, Regina?”
“Nothing.”
“What are you making?”
“Brinner. Breakfast for dinner. I inventoried your pantry and we don’t have a lot of options.”
“Make a list and I’ll go shopping.”
“You don’t want to send me to the grocery store looking like this?” I gave a half curtsy. “The town thinks I’m crazy anyway. I’ll tell them it’s research for my psych degree.”
“I don’t want anyone looking at you but me.”
“I’m used to it. I grew breasts when I was thirteen. Men noticed.”
“I don’t need to be reminded of that,” he muttered.
Hmmm.
I turned back to the sausage frying in the pan. “Is that why you won’t fuck me? Some sort of penance for lusting after me when I was underage?”
Goading him worked. He replaced his work papers and closed his briefcase with a snap.
“No. And watch your language. I won’t tell you again.”
He seemed frustrated. Good.
I set the plate down. “You can start eating. I’m not that hungry.”
“You need to eat.”
“I’m only hungry for one thing.” I gave him a pointed look.
“Suit yourself,” he said, and tucked in. Unbelievable. I was flouncing around his house like Mr. Walton’s wet dream and Cole was ignoring me. Ignoring me! I stomped back to the skillet, hell bent on burning his eggs.
“Regina, I think those are done.”
“Another minute.” I headed to the pantry.
I returned to Cole waiting for me beside the stove, arms crossed over his chest as he glared at me. The burner was off, and a blue haze hung over the kitchen.
Perfect.
“Are you in the habit of leaving the stove while it’s on?”
“Maybe. I get distracted.”
He grabbed my wrist and pulled me to the kitchen table. I made him force me over his knees, gritting my teeth so I didn’t cuss him out.
