Edouard continued to eye the cat as if it would attack him. Suddenly the cat’s ears perked up and it took off toward the open wall. It slipped inside and there was silence.
“Seal up the wall quickly,” Edouard said. “While we still can.”
Penny shook her head. “The cat stays. The building is old. There have been so many remodels, I’m sure there are dozens of places the exterminator can’t get to. A cat is a good idea.”
At least she hoped it was.
A low rumble told her the second produce truck had arrived.
“It’s all going to be crap,” she muttered as she made her way outside. “The good stuff was in the crash.”
“Can’t you sort through it?” Cal asked, falling into step beside her.
“I’ll have to.”
“I’ll help.” When she looked at him, he added, “I know what decent lettuce looks like. I might not be a trained chef, but I’m not an idiot.”
“I’ll accept that.” She was grateful he was going to ignore what he’d heard earlier. Maybe he would even-
“Not getting any, huh?” he asked with a grin. “Bummer.”
PENNY STOOD and chopped cilantro. Her back ached, a fairly new event in her pregnancy, but one she was willing to live with. In an effort to ease the pressure, she scrounged a footstool and rested her left foot on it. The new position helped and she resumed her chopping and imagined forty- seven ways she could use cilantro in various dishes.
If she-
“Penny!”
She winced when she heard Cal call her name. It had been nearly a week since Edouard had announced she wasn’t “getting any” and she was still feeling a little self-conscious. Not that Cal had been anything but the perfect gentleman. She couldn’t complain about that. But still, it was embarrassing.
She looked up. “We’re fine in here. All the orders are out. Do not tell me we have an unexpected party of twelve showing up.”
“No. We’ve cleared the reservations. We’re done for the night.”
“Good.”
He walked toward her, all tall and good-looking in slacks and a sweater. Gloria might be a bitch on wheels, but her grandsons came from a mighty fine gene pool. Just looking at Cal, at the way his body moved and the slight smile on his lips, made her knees wobble. Not a good thing when she was holding such a sharp knife.
“You’re off tomorrow,” he said into her ear.
His warm breath tickled and aroused in equal measures. There hadn’t been any repeats of their hot kisses. She’d told herself she didn’t care. She’d told herself it was better this way. She’d been lying both times.
“Is that a question or a statement?” she asked.
“A question.”
She kept her gaze on her cilantro. It had been delivered fresh and smelled heavenly. “Yes.”
“Good.” He tucked a piece of paper into her jacket pocket. “My place. Tomorrow. Sixty-thirty. I’m cooking. Here are directions.”
“What if I have plans?” she asked, turning her head so she could meet his gaze. His dark eyes made her want to jump without looking. A divorce and being many years wiser than the last time she’d jumped made her less sure.
“Do you?”
She was tempted to say she did. Except she was curious about why Cal was inviting her over. Plus the man was offering to cook. Most people assumed chefs hated to eat anyone else’s food or that they were critical. Maybe others were, but Penny loved having someone else take responsibility for the food.
“No.”
“Then I’ll see you there.”
HOW HARD COULD fajitas be? Cal had picked the dish deliberately. He’d bought beans, rice, salsa and guacamole from his favorite Mexican restaurant. All he had to do was chop up a few onions, peppers and cilantro, along with the steak and chicken and throw on the spices.
He’d already set the table and he had a blender of virgin margaritas in the freezer, so why wasn’t the meal coming together? Here it was, less than fifteen minutes before Penny was due to arrive and he’d suddenly realized he had no way to heat the beans.
“I need more pots, dammit,” he yelled as he flung open cupboards. Except he never cooked and he wouldn’t know a good pot from a bad one.
He finally found a casserole dish and dumped the beans into that. He would use the microwave and be done with it.
Just then the doorbell rang. He walked to open it.
“Right on time,” he said, before he got a look at Penny. Then he stepped back and jammed his mouth shut before his jaw dropped and he just stared like an idiot.
Penny looked great. A black-and-purple sweater clung to her newly impressive breasts and her round tummy. Black jeans made already long legs seem to go on forever. Her hair was loose and hung nearly halfway down her back. The soft waves made him remember other times when her hair had been falling over his belly and thighs as she-
He slammed the door on that train of thought and invited her inside.
“You look great,” he said.
“Thanks. I’m really starting to show, but I’m still too small for maternity clothes. It’s hard finding things to wear. Love the house. Queen Anne is such a cool neighborhood. I saw you have a view. I’m jealous.” She shrugged out of her coat and handed it to him. “I stopped by the restaurant on my way over. Everything is fine. The cat is really settling in. We have to name it. Maybe we can hold a contest. With staff, I mean. Not customers. They don’t need to know about the cat or the rats.”
He closed the door and waited for her to talk herself out. The babbling meant she was nervous. Knowing he wasn’t the only one made things a little easier.
“So, ah, why am I here?” she asked as he hung up her coat.
“Because I asked you and you said yes.”
“I know
“You passed the date.”
Tears filled her eyes. She blinked them away. “Hormones,” she said thickly. “I didn’t know you were keeping track.”
“It wasn’t hard. You only told me about the baby a couple of weeks ago. So when Naomi said you got the all clear from your doctor,” he said, “I wanted to celebrate.”
The idea had popped into his brain and he hadn’t been able to shake it loose. He’d decided to give in to the impulse and see what happened.
“You didn’t have to do this, but I’m glad you did,” she said, heading down the hall. “Is the kitchen this way?”
“Yeah. Turn right.”
He rounded the corner and plowed into her. She’d stopped just inside the room.
“What?” he asked, feeling the criticism rolling off her. “It’s big. There’s plenty of light. It’s a good stove.”
She eyed the six-burner stainless steel appliance that had come with the house. “Better than good, but jeez, Cal. It’s red.”
He nodded. “They’d just painted before they put the house on the market. I’ll change it.”
She winced. “You should do it soon. A red kitchen isn’t a good idea. You’ll never get the color right on your vegetables and it’s not appetizing. But I can live with it.”
“I’m glad, because I’m not painting today.”
She walked over to the stools at the island and plopped down. “So what are we having?”
“Fajitas. Steak and chicken.”
“Cool.”
As she seemed to have settled in for the evening, he knew he wasn’t going to get out of cooking in front of her. “Want something to drink?” he asked, when he really wanted to offer her something to read, or a movie on TV.
