“You scared me to death,” she said, sitting up straight. “What are you doing here?”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He stood back to evaluate her face and judged that the crisis had passed. He also knew why he’d scared her to death, where her mind had gone, and it made him hate Basil Hampton even more. “I came back to cook for you.” He held up a shopping bag as proof.
“You’re going to cook for me?” She reached for the bag to see what was in it, but he pulled it back.
“It’s a surprise,” Landon said. “Why don’t you take my car home. Shower, relax, and come back in three hours.”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to relax again,” Kait murmured. Even now with the lights on and Landon here, she was still spooked. The thought of returning to the dim apartment with all of the odd nooks where someone could hide...she shivered.
“Go to the condo,” Landon ordered, sensing her hesitation and its reason. “The fob is with the car keys. You can’t feel unsafe in a building with an armed guard.”
Kait smiled a little. “That’s true. Okay. Three hours?”
“Three hours,” he confirmed.
Landon looked around the empty kitchen. Fifteen years ago, he’d made his last entree in the old LeClarks kitchen. Then shit had hit the fan, and it was like his hands had gone numb. Every time he thought about picking up a knife, he pictured his fingers being unable to grip the handle. Even though he could bench two hundred pounds easily at the gym, he felt sure that he’d manhandle the large, expensive saucepans. For years, he’d pushed LeClarks and cooking and all that it had meant to the back of his mind. Then, when he’d heard that the building was going to be torn down, he thought that buying it would fix him. It hadn’t. It had made things worse. Rathskeller had made things worse. Instead of preserving what he’d loved, it had perverted it.
Now, though, he felt life tingling back into his palms. He deftly prepared the meal, the moves and the timing coming back to him as though it had only been minutes instead of years since he had prepared a full French menu. He’d stuck with the relatively simple steak frites over the duck confit he preferred. The gratin dauphinois, of course, and a salade niçoise. He did his best to make chocolate soufflé, but they collapsed back into the ramekins.
“Fuck it,” Landon muttered, prodding at the sagging chocolate caps. Kait would be back in thirty minutes, and he still had to set the table.
Landon had been right. It was impossible to feel anything other than safe in the condo. There was hardly anywhere to hide in it. Kait took her time in the rain shower, letting the hot water wash away the tension in her body. Then she put on her clothes from the previous night and fished Marjorie’s earrings out of the sheets. Marjorie would have died before wearing the same thing two days in a row, but Kait didn’t feel like going back by the apartment.
When she got to the restaurant, Landon was waiting at the door.
“Hello, Gilles,” she teased when he opened it for her.
He smiled faintly and said, “Turn around.”
Heating pooling in her belly, Kait complied. She expected to feel his arms go around her, his body hard against the back of hers. Instead, he blindfolded her.
Before she could protest, he leaned down close to her ear and said, “There’s a restaurant in France that reminded me of you. The menu was a secret. You ate what they served, and you ate it in total darkness.”
He guided her to the picnic he’d laid out in the center of the dining room. Kait could see candlelight flickering beneath the edge of the blindfold.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered.
When Kait hesitated, he stroked her cheek. “Do you trust me, Kait?”
Kait’s lips parted. “Yes,” she breathed and waited.
She had been feeding people for as long as she could remember, but no one had ever fed her. Not like this. The feeling of his fingers brushing against her lips was shockingly sensual. With the loss of her vision, all of her other senses were heightened. Food had never tasted and smelled so good. She savored each bite.
When she couldn’t eat anymore, she caught his wrist and brought it to her mouth. She closed her lips around his fingers, one at a time, sucking softly as his breath became more and more ragged. When she reached his thumb, he groaned and pulled her into his lap. His lips came down on hers in a kiss that was as sensual as the meal had been. Though she could feel the tension in his body from holding himself back, he took his time parting her lips, finding her tongue.
“Wait,” she whispered, pulling back. “What about dessert?”
“You’re it,” he muttered, crushing her mouth with his again.
Kait moaned and reached for him, but he bracketed her hands and pushed them down. Only after several minutes did he release them to pull her shirt over her head and skim his hands down her torso, then back up to cup her breasts.
Kait gasped when he reached behind her back and unsnapped the clasp of her bra. “What if someone comes in?”
“No one is coming in, Kait,” Landon murmured, tracing hot kisses down her navel to the snap of her jeans. She reached for it, but he brushed her hands away and did it himself.
“Up on your knees,” he whispered in her ear.
She rose up, and he peeled the denim down over her hips. Using his shoulders for balance, she stood and he pulled them the rest of the way off. She started to lower back down, but his firm hands stopped her.
“Stay where you are.”
Holding her breath, Kait felt him roll her panties down to her feet, and then the feel of his hot tongue in her intimate folds. She
