“Open,” he said, his gaze affixed to her lips the same way hers fixed to his.
Going against her better instincts, she didn’t say no. Instead, she opened her mouth. He slid the spoon through her parted lips and the move was somehow not invasive.
Holy hell. She closed her mouth around the smooth surface.
Her taste buds would not take any commands from her brain because the sauce was that good.
Then she actually reached for the handle, not even caring that her fingers brushed against his and the little nerve endings really liked that touch. She took the spoon because she was about to make out with his flatware like it was her first boyfriend and she didn’t know what to do with her tongue, so she just put it everywhere.
Whatever he put in that sauce was pure witchcraft in raspberry form.
The grin he had was so much more than a half smile. The clarity that he liked that she liked his special sauce made her tummy flip right on over. In a super nice, flippy kind of way.
Bad Emmaline.
“Fiona,” she called. “We have to go.”
A kitten—probably a few months old, but not fully grown—scooted around the corner, batting at the air and having a great time with nothing at all. Oh, wonderful, a feline distraction.
And the only thing that could make Ethan actuallymoreattractive. Dude in the kitchen making magic? Check. That he has a kitten? Holy all-the-checkmarks, Batman.
“Who’s this?” she asked. Kneeling on the floor and putting her hand out to the cat.
“Annie and I are fostering this little guy,” he said, apparently going along with the subject change.
That was fine by her because they were dipping into an uncertain and slightly scratchy territory with the other raspberry flavored chatter.
“Pepper.” Ethan crouched beside where she gave the kitten a solid ear canoodle. “That’s his name.”
“That sounds about right.”
“Say again?”
“Well, you’re a chef. Of course you name your animals after food.”
“Pepper’s more of a spice.”
But… “You eat it, so it’d be a food, yes?”
“If by food you mean spice, then yeah,” he countered.
“Okay, maybe with pepper, but then what about basil?” she asked.
He stared at her funny. Yes, she was seriously arguing with an actual chef about what qualified as food or not.
“I should go up and get Fiona,” Em said, so she didn’t argue with him about salt next.
Ethan shook his head. “They’ll be right down. Rule is that Annie has to wash off the makeup after. She’s too young to be going out and about with it on.”
Emmaline nodded, drew in a breath through one side of her mouth. She actually agreed with him on that.
“To answer your question, I s’pose basil would qualify as both, depending on the preparation. Food in a salad. Spice when crushed.” Ethan looked at her then, as though this was the important part. Not a full assault with his gaze, just from under his lashes, as though he was ensuring she was listening.
Thank God in heaven, Fiona hopped down the staircase so they could stop talking about this. Or anything else.
“Can we stay for dinner?” Fiona asked. Really, it was a preteen plea.
Nope, they couldn’t.
