But it wasn’t just the mess. She’d gone too quiet, too stiff—nothing like the lively, sharp Daphne from an hour ago.
Her forehead wrinkled, and she kept checking the clock like it was ticking down a bomb.
“As cute as you are when you’re worried,” he said, edging closer,“I’d rather you tell me what’s going on in that pretty head so we can work through it.”
Her gaze snapped to his. “I’m just... working. This is a big deal.” She cleared her throat. “And I’m not exactly used to having...youin my kitchen.”
So.
Hewasthe problem.
But from the flush blooming in her cheeks, the problem wasn’t entirely negative.
“I can work up in my apartment if that would help.”
“No!” She said it so fast she startled herself. “It’s not that I don’t want you here. It’s just—” Her shoulders dropped. “There’s so much to do. And I need this catering job to work. I have to build more business so I can make some desperately needed updates.”
“Then perhaps,” he said carefully, “weneedto take a break.”
Her eyes shot wide. “How can you say that? We barely have a week to prepare as it is! We can’t make great food if we don’t have time to practice what we’re making.”
He stepped closer and wrapped his fingers gently around the rolling pin clenched in her hand. “We also don’t make great food while clenching the utensils like weapons,” he said, voice low. “Or rolling dough like it insulted Granny D.”
She scowled, pulling her hand free and pointing the rolling pin at his chest. “Some of us don’t operate on island time, Finn. Some of us respect deadlines.”
“Daphne...” he murmured, even softer now. “Put down the rolling pin.”
She hesitated. Frowned deeper.
“We don’t have time for—”
Her words came to a grinding halt as he reached around her and, with one hand, took the rolling pin while the other untied the apron with a little tug.
The soft slide of the fabric untying seemed to suck the air straight out of the kitchen.
Heaven help him, she was so deliciously close, her breath brushing his jaw.
“We have time.” He stepped back before he forgot every good intention he had.
“I’m not leaving.” But her whispered response held very little conviction.
“You are.” He grinned. “Because you need to. And because”—he leaned closer, lowering his voice—“I’m bribing you.”
She narrowed her eyes, wary. “Bribing me with what?”
“With a drive.” Finn jerked his chin toward the back door. “A much overdue ride in the Cabriolet.”
Her breath actually caught. That lovely mouth dropping open.
“The... the Cabriolet?”
“I owe you.”
She swallowed and gave her head a little shake. “That’s totally unfair.”
“Maybe,” he said, chuckling. “But it’s a very good idea for a very good reason.”
She glared at him for a full three seconds.
