He's smiling now. Full-on smiling. "I'm kidding."
"You're terrible."
"I've been told."
I shake my head, laughing despite myself.
Ethan moves around the kitchen with an ease that's mesmerizing. He's confident but not showy. Precise but not fussy. And watching him cook is doing things to me I absolutely should not be feeling.
"So," he says, stirring the sauce. "Tell me about these ideas."
Right. Work. Focus.
I pull out my laptop and open the file I created. "Okay. For your mom, I'm thinking a custom birthstone necklace. An Irish tree of life pendant with stones representing you, your siblings, your dad, and any grandchildren. The Irish tree of life will have a celtic knot border around the tree. The top will have her and your father’s birthstones, the next branches have the children’s and then under the corresponding grandchildren. Like this…" I turn the photo towards him.
Ethan stops stirring. "That's..."
"Too much?" I ask, suddenly worried I overstepped.
"No." He looks at me, and there's something raw in his expression. "It's perfect. She'll love it."
Relief floods through me. "Good. I found a jeweler who can do it, but I'll need to know everyone's birthstones."
"I can get you that information tonight."
"Great." I pull up the next file. "For Claire, I'm thinking a first edition novel. Something rare and meaningful. Do you know what her favorite book is?"
"Pride and Prejudice," he says without hesitation.
"Of course it is." I grin. "I have a contact at a rare book shop. I'll see what he has. It’ll probably be costly."
"Money is no object. And if he doesn't have it?"
"Then I'll find someone who does. I don't give up easily."
Ethan's gaze holds mine. "I'm starting to realize that."
My pulse quickens.
He turns back to the stove, and I take another sip of wine to steady myself.
"Dinner's almost ready," he says. "Why don't you set the table?"
"Sure."
He points me toward the dining room, and I find placemats, silverware, and cloth napkins in a sideboard. I set two places across from each other, trying to ignore how intimate this feels.
When I return to the kitchen, Ethan is plating the food. Perfectly twirled pasta topped with a rich, red sauce and fresh basil.
"This looks amazing," I say.
"Wait until you taste it."
He carries both plates to the dining room, and I follow with our wineglasses.
We sit, and I take my first bite.
Oh my God.
