She turned away, stirred the soup again. It was fitting, she supposed, as he stirred something in her.
“I said I wouldn’t have sex with you. Do you think I said that to pique your interest?”
“No. I think you say just what’s on your mind, except what you’ve got behind locked doors in there. But I figure you wouldn’t have brought it up if you hadn’t had some level of want in there yourself.”
She turned back, remained standing across the counter from him. “It was probably unwise for you to come here when you’re still a little angry and most likely experiencing some residual arousal from this incident.”
“God, I like the way you talk. And you’re right, it wasn’t the smartest move.”
“If I reconsidered because—”
She broke off when he lifted a hand. “Do me a favor? Don’t reconsider right yet. If you changed your mind on it, I’d be hard-pressed to pass it up. If you didn’t, well, I’d just be depressed. I didn’t come by for sex, though, like I said, hard-pressed. Let’s just take it off the table for tonight. I’d be willing to settle for some of that soup, some conversation.”
She didn’t want to like him, didn’t want to find herself engaged by a man—a police officer—who talked his way past her guard and sat in her kitchen, drawing out her interest with a personal story.
Logically, she should tell him to go. But she didn’t want to, and wondered what would happen if she did something just a little foolish.
“I planned to watch a movie with dinner.”
“I like movies.”
“I was going to watchSteel Magnolias.”
He let out a long, long sigh. “I probably deserve that.”
When she smiled, it seemed to him the whole room lit up.
“Actually, I was going to watchLive Free or Die Hard.”
“I should’ve brought you more flowers.”
* * *
He discovered she wasa damn good cook, and that he liked raspberry vinaigrette just fine. He also learned she watched a movie with quiet intensity—no chatter.
That was fine with him, especially since the dog appeared accustomed enough to his presence to curl up and sleep at Abigail’s feet. Though Brooks had no doubt if he made the wrong move, Bert would be up, alert, and have him pinned with those unblinking eyes, if not the teeth.
He relaxed himself. Good food, a good movie, a simmering fire and a quiet woman. When the credits rolled, she rose to gather the dishes.
As expected, the dog came to attention, shot Brooks a look that said: I’m watching you, buddy.
“I’ll take care of that.”
“No. I have my own way.”
“I’ll help you take them back, then.” He stacked bowls before she could decline. “You turned my mood around, Abigail,” he said as they walked back to the kitchen.
“I’m glad I could help.” She set dishes on the counter, turned to him. “You should go now.”
He had to laugh. “Okay. Listen, why don’t I pay you back for the mood changer. Take you out to dinner.”
“We just had dinner.”
“Some other time.”
“I don’t go out to dinner.”
“Ever?”
