Kasra stumbled backward. “Whoa.”
Steadying her with a hand, he snagged a can of diced tomatoes from the top shelf. Handed it to her. Didn’t miss the coy look she shot him as she accepted it, then wheeled around him back to the counter. She added some spices. Slid the can to him. “Can you open that for me?”
“Ah, something I can do without burning down the ship.”
She laughed. “You don’t like to cook?”
“I like to protect the environment and its people—from me.” He scrounged and located a can opener. Thing was about like trying to crank a rusted bolt loose. Success. He passed the opened can to her. “See, I stick to the skills I do have and everyone’s better for it.”
“I am better for your skills, thank you very much,” she said quietly as she poured the tomatoes into the pan. She stirred it, let it rise to a boil, then lowered it to a simmer. Added salt and pepper. From a bottle she dumped some dried herbs into her palm, then shook them into the pan. “Range …” Her voice was so soft it forced him closer to hear over the extractor on the stove and the sizzling shakshuka. Those green-brown eyes rose to him. “Please know that I do not think of you as misogynistic. Believe me, I have known those men.” Her face seemed to pink as she stirred, then her gaze fluttered back to him. “You are not one of them.”
Rip current. That’s what her soft words and soft lips were. Somehow, his hand found the small of her back. “How do you know?” Because he had a powerful need to kiss her again but they hadn’t clarified some things—like the marriage—yet.
She smiled at him. “Because I can tell you want to kiss me but will not.”
That sounded like a challenge.
Or a warning.
“I don’t want to be just another man lining up to taste your virtue.”
“I do not think I have any of that left.”
Range smirked. “Virtue also means a good or useful quality, and you have that in spades.” Instead of taking that kiss, he brushed her hair from her shoulder. Appreciated how satiny it was. “You’ve had men take from you long enough, Kas.”
Kasra returned her attention to the stove. Dropped eggs into the now-simmering mixture. “It’s true,” she said. “They have taken from me.” Her wide, expressive eyes found his again. “But there is a man I would gladly give it all to.”
Wait. What? Did she mean him? He searched her face as she turned to him.
“Yes, you, Rage.”
His heart did the mamba. He moved his hand to the back of her neck. Diving in … Range caught her mouth with his. Felt that undertow of attraction that yanked his good sense from him. Knew that what he felt for her, thought of her, could tempt him to go places he’d vowed to never go.
“What smells so—Whoa-ho! Get it, Metcalfe!”
He broke off, automatically shifting to block her from Renner’s sniggers and clapping. Scowled at the guy. “What do you want?”
Renner cocked his head. “Don’t blame you, Pretty Boy. I’d go all alpha over her, too.” He slapped Range’s gut then moved to the stove and loudly inhaled the aroma. “About time we got a real cook up in here! Tell me you’re making enough for me.” He pressed his hands together. “I’ll beg. I’m good at begging.”
Kasra huffed a laugh, her cheeks pink.
“She’s not your freakin’ maid,” Range growled, itching to rearrange his face.
Palms up, Renner acquiesced. “I hear you. I hear you.”
“It is okay,” Kasra said, hand on Range’s abdomen. “It is the least I can do since they helped us leave Pakistan.”
“You don’t have to pay anyone for anything.”
“No,” Kasra agreed, “but if I can do this little thing as thanks, then why would it be wrong?”
Again, he threw a glower at him. “I don’t want anyone on this ship thinking you owe them a thing.”
“Except your life,” Renner teased, arousing Range’s anger, but he lifted his palms again. “Chill, dude. I get where you’re coming from, but that was never my intention.”
“Mr. Renner,” Kasra said, touching Range’s back. “You mentioned you saw a video on the dark web.”
Range stood in a stiff standoff with the guy, who warily glanced at her.
