“It’d be my honor, chef.”
Wanting to kiss him again, I lift on my toes and press my mouth to his, moaning when he wraps me in his arms and takes over the kiss. When we pull apart again, he rests his forehead on mine, our eyes locked. “Lucky I locked the door. At this rate, we’ll never get fed.”
“Not complaining, sweet cheeks.”
“Okay, then. Let’s get started.”
“Yes, chef,” he says, shooting me a cheeky smirk before looking around at the numerous bowls of pre-prepped ingredients.
I move to the big industrial refrigerator and start pulling out what we’re going to need. “Because I’m an overachiever, who wanted to impress my date, I may have gone a little overboard with the menu,” I explain, handing things off to Rhodes when he holds out his hands to help.
“This date of yours must be one hell of a guy,” he muses.
I laugh. “Yep. He’s a firefighter, like you. Rather handsome and claims to be rusty at dating, but so far he’s proving that to be a lie.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. At least he’s a great kisser though. Really good. I’m hoping he plans to kiss me a lot. His nice butt doesn’t hurt his case either,” I continue, earning a deep chuckle that I feel everywhere.
“He sounds like a catch.”
“It seems that way, yes.” My face starts to ache from grinning too much.
When I return to his side, he bumps my hip with his. “I’ll stop seeking compliments if you tell me what culinary delights you have in store for us tonight.”
I roll my eyes and sigh melodramatically. “Needy men, I dunno. Lucky I really like you, Rhodes Anderson.” I turn around and hold up my handwritten list of dishes for him, putting on my best presenting voice. “So, tonight, we’re starting with a little snack of grissini with goat cheese and black-truffle dip. For the appetizer, there’s oysters three ways—mignonette sauce, a Vietnamese chili dressing, and Oysters Kilpatrick.”
“Wow,” he says, sounding genuinely impressed.
Happy that he is—and that he’s not averse to seafood, which was a big risk—I continue. “And over there in the pot I should be stirring, is our main of sweet corn and crab risotto.”
“Damn.”
My lips twitch as I glance over at him. “Either I’ve reduced you to single-word answers or I haven’t done my job right.”
He lifts his brow and smirks. “Or maybe I’m wondering if I have a shit-show in hell of keeping up with you to help cook this delicious meal.”
“Don’t worry, honey. I promise I’ll go easy on you . . . with the cooking anyway.”
“Honestly, I’ve watched you cook online, and I was mesmerized. Seeing you do it in front of me might be a dream come true.”
“Oh, you wait. If you’re impressed with all of that, then dessert is gonna knock your socks off.”
“Just my socks?” he says with a sexy smirk so hot I momentarily consider delaying our meal.
“Behave. I can’t cook and be thinking about everything I wanna do to you.”
“Now this I want to hear. How about you keep going, and I’ll sit over here far away from you while you tell me all these things you’ve been thinking about doing to me.”
“Maybe I wasn’t always the one doing.”
“Even better. Because I’ve got my own little mental wish list going too.”
“Do tell me about these plans you said you had for me . . .”
He chuckles, his eyes alight with an equal measure of humor and heat. “Where’s the fun in that? I’ve been looking forward to seeing the master at work in her element.”
“Flattery will get you everywhere.”
Then he languidly runs his eyes down my body and back up, sending a wave of heat in its wake that makes me lock my knees to stay upright. When his hooded gaze meets mine again, there’s no mistaking the direction his mind has gone. By god, I like where it’s going, too. Although, if this keeps up, dinner will be out the window and we’ll be dining down on each other.
“How about we keep adding to our wish lists while we cook, because that risotto smells amazing and everything else you’ve described sounds just as good. And maybe . . .” he says, leaning in close. “Maybe one of my fantasies has been to cook with you, too.”
That makes my chest warm and my lips curl up. “Okay then. You can grab those two ears of corn and strip off the kernels for me while I stir the rice, make the dressings for the oysters, and pour us a glass of wine.”
“How about I get us the wine, and then I’ll strip the corn. But first, I have to do this.” Then his hand is wrapped around the back of my neck and he’s closing the distance between us for a long, wet, thorough kiss—something I’m learning Rhodes does very well.
He grins at me when I moan at the loss of his mouth. “Like that,” he rumbles.
“Not as much as I do, honey.”
“Debatable,” he murmurs, his eyes drifting to my mouth again.
I flatten my hand on his chest. “You’re gonna have to stop looking at me that way if you ever wanna eat.”
“Yeah . . .” he says, not changing the way his eyes are eating me up. He shakes his head as if trying to snap out of a daze. “Right. Wine then corn.”
“Sounds good.” I smile before flexing my fingers against his heart and moving away to finish the main course.
“Damn, Dee. That was fucking amazing,” he says, placing the cutlery on his empty plate and leans back in his chair.
Having gorged ourselves on all three courses so far. It’s fair to say we’re well-fed and happy, especially if the satisfied grin on Rhodes’s face is anything to go by.
I lift my glass to my lips and take a sip of the 2018 Far Niente Chardonnay I paired with the risotto. “Glad you enjoyed it.”
“I knew it would be
