“I was in the bathtub, or I’d have been out sooner. I couldn’t figure out what all the racket was, and-well, well, well.” She stopped her litany and walked slowly around Cruz, looking him up and down. She fluttered her eyelashes coyly. “What do we have here?”
Madeline looked wildly about for the floor to open up and swallow her. No such luck. Ariel was eying Cruz like a starving lioness at fresh prey, and he, darn him, was enjoying it. He grinned at her.
“I’ve got all my own teeth, too.”
“I’ll just bet you have,” Ariel cooed. “I’m Madeline’s friend Ariel. Maybe she’s told you, I’m very interested in natural herbs and their healing powers. I’d love to have you tell me about the wonder treatment you must have used to shed thirty pounds, shoot up a foot and grow hair.”
Cruz looked puzzled, Madeline desperate. She should have known that she would have to pay for telling Ariel those whoppers about her new partner. The need to shut her friend up won out over the need to get rid of Cruz. She grasped his arm and pulled him into her apartment. “Goodbye, Ariel,” she said as she swung the door closed.
“Nice meeting you, Ariel,” Cruz called with amusement.
“Nice meeting you, Mr. Martinez.”
He turned to look at Madeline. “Seems a little weird, but nice. How’d she know my name?”
“Thanks to your performance in the hallway, the entire apartment complex knows your name,” Madeline retorted. “You’ve been here only five minutes and already you’ve managed to disrupt my neighbors, ruin my reputation and embarrass me in front of my friend.” She glared at him. “Get a new hobby.”
His mouth quirked. “Gee, and I wasn’t even trying. Imagine what I could do if I really set my mind to it.”
“I shudder to think of it. You have to leave. Now.”
“Can’t,” he said cheerfully over his shoulder as he strode to her small kitchen and set the bag on the counter. “I came over tonight to fix you dinner, to apologize for this afternoon.”
“I already ate,” she fibbed.
“What did you have?” he shot back.
Madeline blinked. “Um, I had…” Her mind went blank. “Chicken,” she finished lamely.
“Liar.” He chuckled, unpacking the groceries and setting them about. “Now if you’d said something dripping in grease and full of cholesterol, I might have believed you.”
She gave up. “So I haven’t eaten, but I’m not going to eat with you. This isn’t necessary. Cruz!”
He was ignoring her as he opened packages, but looked up at his name. “Do you like stir fry?”
“I hate it.”
“You’ll like mine,” he said surely. He began opening cupboard doors. “Where do you keep your pans?”
Common sense said she needed to get this man out of her apartment. Self-preservation demanded that she put a great distance, preferably miles, between them. But from the looks of him, it would take an earthquake to move him. Madeline mentally calculated the chance of that particular natural disaster coming to her aid now. The odds didn’t look good.
She sighed and capitulated. “Pans are beneath the stove, silverware is in the top drawer and the fire extinguisher is on the wall.”
His eyebrows rose. “Why, Ms. Casey. That sounded very much like a sexist remark to me. Are you saying you doubt that I can cook?”
“I don’t know. Can you?”
“I’ll have you know,” he said, his voice muffled as he squatted and rummaged through her cupboard, “that my culinary reputation is legendary.”
She could certainly imagine that
He stifled a smile. Her tone belied the helpful words. She sounded decidedly out of sorts. Obviously she wasn’t used to finding herself on the sidelines while someone else barged in and took over. And that was exactly what he’d had to do, he admitted to himself cheerfully, to get into her apartment. He cast a glance at her. He much preferred to work alone when preparing a masterpiece, but from the looks of her, he’d be better off giving her something useful to do. Maybe it would improve her mood.
“There’s a bottle of wine in the sack. Why don’t you pour us a couple of glasses?”
That sounded like something she could handle. She obeyed, retrieving the bottle and reading the label curiously. Her eyebrows rose. Another example of his expensive taste, she noted. However, it raised her spirits somewhat. She loved that brand of white wine.
She removed the cork easily and poured some for each of them. She even went so far as to get a small wedge of cheese and a box of crackers from her cupboard and put them on a plate on the counter. If he was intent on coming into her apartment and feeding her, the least she could do was to be hospitable, she reasoned. Besides, she added silently as she sat on a stool across the counter from Cruz, the cheese and crackers might be the only edible items on the menu tonight.
“Is there anything else I can do?” she asked halfheartedly.
He shook his head. She looked more relaxed already. He saw that her wineglass was half-empty, and reached over to fill it again. “No, why don’t you take it easy? You had a rough day.” Without giving her time to respond to that, he went on easily, “I enjoy cooking. It relaxes me after work.” He winked at her. “Of course, I only do it when I feel like it, so it’s not a chore to me.”
“It seems like such a waste of time for one person. I rarely make a real meal for myself.” Having someone in the kitchen cooking for her while she sat and relaxed was beginning to gain merit. There was something to be said for laziness. She studied him judiciously, over her second glass of wine. He didn’t look any less masculine moving about in the tiny room with the ruffled curtains. His movements were lithe and sure. He hadn’t been exaggerating. He obviously knew his way around a stove. He stirred several ingredients together in the frying pan, his hand going to adjust the heat. Her gaze drifted over him. It was especially pleasant to watch someone cook for her when that someone was so easy to look at.
The wine was pleasantly uninhibiting. Her gaze wandered down his well-muscled legs, and back up to trace the inverted triangle of narrow waist, lean back and broad shoulders. His hair looked thick. She wondered if it would be soft or coarse to the touch.
She mentally shook herself. That way of thinking was not for her. She pushed her wineglass away. It might be responsible for easing some of the day’s tensions, but she’d better stop now, before it drained away some of her common sense, as well. This case didn’t need any further complications.
“Out of deference for your finicky appetite, we’re keeping the green things to a minimum tonight. I’m fixing a pasta salad.”
“I like pasta,” she said cautiously. Maybe this meal wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
“Now how did I guess that?” he joked. “I didn’t want to shock your system by introducing too many new foods at once. We’ll expand your salad appetite another time.”
Madeline wondered at his assumption that there would be a next time. But he was a surprisingly pleasant companion, conversing the whole time he cooked. By the time dinner was ready their patter had finished the job the wine had started, and she felt thoroughly relaxed.
Cruz filled both of their plates and set them down at the tiny table in the dining area. She sat down almost nervously. The room wasn’t large enough for a bigger piece of furniture, but since she rarely entertained, she’d never given it much thought. But now, with Cruz sitting across from her, the table seemed too cozy, almost intimate.
To mask her unease, she turned her attention to her food. To her astonishment, the meal was delicious. She surprised herself by putting her normal reservations aside and ate with enjoyment.
Cruz watched her over the top of his wineglass. She had approached the first few forkfuls warily, he noted with amusement. She definitely did not have a trusting nature. But after several minutes their conversation had her so involved that she forgot to surreptitiously examine the food, and just ate it. They were arguing about national politics and he was surprised to find that their viewpoints were not that far apart. But he’d never been one to let similar viewpoints get in the way of a stimulating discussion.
“I agree with you.” He interrupted her in the midst of a spirited argument. He replaced his wineglass on the
