Kiss The Cook

'I thought you wanted breakfast,' she murmured, hot desire pooling low in her body.

'I do. Later.' He trailed his fingers up her thigh and tangled themselves in the curls at the apex. 'Right now I want you.'

'Oh, well, all right,' Melanie managed to say, her eyes drifting closed when he caressed the moist, swollen flesh between her legs. 'If you insist.'

* * *

Thirty minutes later, once again clad in Chris's dress shirt, Melanie poked at the congealed mess in the frying pan.

'How do you like your eggs?' she called. 'Black or brown?'

Chris walked into the kitchen, dressed in a clean T-shirt, a pair of navy shorts, and his Reeboks. He looked over her shoulder and whistled.

'Yuck,' he said, shaking his head. 'That looks like stuff you scrape off tires. Good thing I'm heading out to grab us some grub.'

Melanie cocked a brow at him. 'This would have been a perfectly respectable breakfast if certain people hadn't distracted the cook.'

He patted her behind. 'Couldn't help it. The cook was mighty distracting.'

Melanie turned and found herself face to face with him. Dark stubble shaded his jaw, and his hair looked as if someone-namely her-had been running her fingers through it. He looked incredibly sexy and slightly rumpled, as if he'd just rolled out of bed, which, of course, was precisely the case.

'I think,' she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, 'that you are just easily distracted.'

'Funny thing is, I'm usually not.'

'Could have fooled me. As far as I can tell, you get aroused by a strong breeze. Not that I'm complaining.'

He cupped her face with his hands, his gaze long and searching. 'I get the impression,' he said, a frown forming between his brows, 'that you think what happened between us last night is a normal and frequent occurrence for me.'

'Isn't it?' Melanie shook her head in disbelief at her own question. She held up her hands. 'No, never mind. I don't want to know. It's none of my business anyway.'

'None of your business?' he repeated, an incredulous note in his tone. 'Oh, boy. Listen, we are going to talk about this. But later. I'm in serious need of sustenance. Why don't you put on some coffee while I'm gone.' He dropped a kiss on her nose. 'I'll be right back.'

'I'll be right here.'

A slow smile curved his lips. 'Then it seems I have you right where I want you.' He grabbed his keys and left, whistling slightly off key.

Standing in his kitchen, Melanie heard the front door click shut.

He was gone.

But definitely not forgotten.

* * *

When Chris walked into his condo half an hour later, he was greeted by the heady aroma of fresh brewed coffee, the soft sounds of Elton John on the stereo, and the woman of his dreams wearing his favorite dress shirt, setting his table.

He stood in the doorway leading into his kitchen, feasting his eyes on the sight of Melanie giving his counter a swipe with a sponge. From the top of her curly head to her bare feet, she looked disheveled and well loved.

And by God, that's what she was.

Well loved.

She satisfied him more completely, fulfilled him more absolutely than any woman ever had.

The thing that surprised him was how calm he felt about loving her. He'd always thought he'd panic at the first sign of falling in love-find himself in a frenzy to escape and cling to his freedom.

But not with Melanie. He knew without a doubt that she was 'the one.' The one he wanted to spend his life with, wake up next to every morning, live with, love with, and share everything with. His plan hadn't been to find 'the one' for another few years, but what the hell, he was flexible.

Now all he had to do was convince her.

She was understandably gun-shy of relationships, and he didn't want to scare her off. Yet, his pesky inner voice yelled that persuading her to continue their relationship would be damned hard to do if he screwed up her chances of getting her loan.

He firmly told his pesky inner voice to shut up.

* * *

'That was a great breakfast,' Melanie said, leaning back and patting her full stomach. 'Best cheese danish I've ever eaten.'

Chris winked at her. 'You should try my cinnamon buns.'

She laughed. 'I thought I already had.'

'Are we still talking about breakfast?'

'Beats me.' Melanie pointed to the unpacked grocery bag on the counter. 'What's in there?'

Chris stretched out his legs and sipped his coffee. 'Cake stuff.'

'What do you mean, 'cake stuff'?'

'Stuff to make a cake. It's on your things-I-want-to-do-before-I-die list. Besides, you're a gourmet cook. You should know what cake stuff is.'

Curious, Melanie peeked in the bag. There were three boxes inside. She reached in and pulled out a box of Duncan Hines chocolate cake mix. The next box yielded a mix for fluffy fudge frosting. She pulled out the last box and choked back a laugh.

'Condoms?' she asked, raising her brows. 'What do condoms have to do with making cakes?'

He grabbed her hand and pulled her onto his lap. 'We have to do something while the cake is in the oven,' he said, nuzzling her neck.

'The cake only has to bake for thirty-five minutes. This is a package of thirty-six condoms.'

'So we'll have one left over,' he said against her lips.

Melanie laughed. 'Maybe we should try to pace ourselves.'

'No can do. In case you can't tell, I want you again.'

'I can tell, and I must say I'm amazed. And flattered.' She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his stubbly jaw. 'Don't you ever get tired?'

'If you'd asked me that question last week, I would have said yes. Today, the answer is no. It appears that you are to me what spinach is to Popeye.' He nibbled on her neck. 'One taste of you and I have the strength of a thousand men.'

'A thousand men? I think you're gonna need some more condoms, Popeye.'

'Now you're talkin',' he said, chuckling. 'But first we shower. Then we bake. Then… well, we'll have to see.' He shot her an exaggerated leer. 'I have a feeling we'll find something to do.'

Melanie laughed at his expression and tried to ignore her racing pulse. Again she had to force herself to remember that this was an interlude. An affair. No commitments, no promises. She had to enjoy it while it lasted, then let it go. No more relationships for her. No way. Just fun and games.

Now all she had to do was convince her heart.

In an effort to control the emotions simmering on the surface, she asked, 'Shower? Us? You mean like, together?'

'Absolutely.' He wrapped his arms around her and stood. 'Never let it be said that I haven't done my part in the global water conservation effort.' He walked toward the bathroom, kissing her all the while.