Author: Jaci Burton

He smoothed his arms down her back, kissed her neck, and held her, not wanting to let her go.

“I’m starving,” she said against his chest.

He laughed. “Good thing I went to the grocery store this morning.”

They disengaged, cleaned up, and dressed, and Elizabeth picked up her cup from the coffee table, grimacing.

“It’s cold now. Guess I won’t be drinking any more coffee. How about a cocktail? Or do you want to get dressed and go out to eat?”

“I’m making you dinner tonight. I bought white wine. It’ll go with dinner.”

She stopped on her way to the kitchen and pivoted, arching a brow. “You are? Does this mean I have to make a pie?”

“Nah. I was just teasing about that.”

She gave him a dubious look. “Okay.”

She looked like she didn’t believe him, but he went into the kitchen to start dinner. Elizabeth fixed them glasses of wine and sat at the counter, watching him drag out pans and ingredients.

“What are you making?”

“Pan-seared salmon with pasta and spinach cream sauce.”

She laughed. “No really. What are you making?”

He slanted her a look. “That’s really what I’m making.”

“I’m stunned. And will be highly impressed if you don’t poison me.”

He laughed. “I promise not to poison you.”

He put water on to boil, then put butter in a pan and added a piece of salmon. While that was cooking, he got out the spinach, washed it, and zested a lemon.

“You look like you know what you’re doing.”

He smiled at her and took a sip of wine. “I told you I can cook.”

“I guess you did, didn’t you.”

Once the salmon was done, he set it aside, threw more butter into the pan, and tossed the spinach in there. Once the spinach had wilted, he added the lemon zest and some cream, and stirred it with one hand while drinking his wine with the other.

Elizabeth inhaled. “Gavin, that smells so good. What can I do to help?”

“Are you sure you want to? I don’t want to ruin your cooking embargo.”

“Ha-ha. What do you need me to do?”

He gave her instructions for the garlic bread, so she busied herself with slicing the bread and preparing it. She set the table while he tossed the bread in the oven. By then it was time to flake the salmon and add it to the pan with the spinach and cream. He’d already added pasta to the boiling water.

Everything was moving along at a fast clip, just the way he liked it.

Elizabeth came up behind him and wrapped her arms around him. “A man that cooks. I might just never let you go. Do you hire out for parties?”

He laid the spoon on the stove, turned around, and kissed her thoroughly, making sure she understood just how much he still wanted her. “Depends on the payment plan.”

Her cheeks were bright pink, and he didn’t think it had anything to do with the stove being hot. “Oh, I think I could definitely meet your payment demands.”

He patted her on the butt, and she moved out of his way while he drained the pasta and added parsley to the salmon and spinach in the pan.

While that heated up, he pulled the bread out of the oven, put some pasta on their plates, and scooped the cream, spinach, and salmon on top of the pasta, finishing it off with some fresh parsley. He brought the plates over to the table where Elizabeth had already poured fresh wine.

He waited while she took the first bite. Her closed eyes and murmured sounds of approval made him smile.

“Holy crap, Gavin. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be a chef? This is fantastic.”

“Thanks. And I like to eat but don’t always like to eat out. Told you my mom is a good cook and insisted we learned to fend for ourselves.”

She scooped another forkful into her mouth. More yummy sounds. He liked that.

“Fending for yourself is tossing a steak or burgers on the grill. This is cuisine. Men just don’t cook like this.”

He took a bite, enjoying her delight in his cooking. “This man does.”

She waved her fork at him. “You are a rare breed, Gavin Riley. Don’t tell too many women your secrets, or they’ll be lining up in droves to marry you.”

“You think so?”

“Hell, yes. You’re gorgeous; you play Major League Baseball, which means you’re a jock; you’re a millionaire; and you can cook, too? Women will swoon. I should get media to do a photo spread of you in the kitchen.”

He ate, watching the wheels turn in her head. Her eyes widened, and he knew the gears had clicked into place.

Shit.

“Oh, my God, the exposure would be fantastic. We could do the cooking angle, maybe get you on some of the cooking network shows, some of the morning shows, because they eat that up. The jock who can cook.” She grabbed a forkful of food and ate another bite.

“What else can you cook?”

He arched a brow. “Why?”

“Well, is it fancy stuff like this?”

“This isn’t a fancy meal, Elizabeth. It didn’t take long to make.”

“It doesn’t matter. It looks fancy and it tastes incredible. So tell me what else you can make.”

He ignored her. He was hungry, so he finished his food, drank his wine, and ate garlic bread, then fixed a second helping. Meanwhile, Elizabeth grabbed her laptop and ate while simultaneously typing notes.

“What was the name of this dish again?”

“Pan-seared salmon with pasta and spinach cream sauce.”

She typed, then looked over the top of her laptop at him. “Now tell me what else you can make.”

He sighed, pushing his plate to the side. “Pasta carbonara. Lime chicken with mango salsa. Steak fajitas with Spanish rice. Chicken Parmesan. I make a lot of stuff, Elizabeth. I don’t even remember half of it.”

She was wide eyed. “Really? This is great. We could do a cookbook. Or even a cooking show.”

“No.”

“What? Yes.”

“No. I don’t cook for a living. I play baseball.”

“You could do both. Are you kidding me? Women will go crazy over you. This will sell tickets like nobody’s business. I’ll make you famous.”

“Me cooking will not sell baseball tickets. That makes no sense.”

“Of course it will. See, this is why I’m in charge of your PR and you’re not. You just don’t get the connection.”

“Because there is no connection. And no, I’m not going to be your cooking baseball guy.”

“But—”

“No, Elizabeth.”

“Gavin . . .”

“No.”

She inhaled and let out a huge dramatic sigh. “Fine.”

She closed the laptop and took her dishes to the sink. Gavin sat back and finished his glass of wine, watching her take her frustrations out on the pots and pans.

She was cute when she didn’t get her own way. He let her storm about the kitchen for a while, then went in with his plate and helped her finish up the dishes. She didn’t speak to him or look at him, which meant she was either pissed or gearing up for round two.

“What do you do during your off-season?”

Round two.

“I come down here to fish, hang out at home. See my parents. Go see some of Mick’s games. Relax.”

She grabbed the dish towel and dried her hands. “Cook?”

His lips lifted. “Yeah. I cook.”

“Alone or with your mom?”

He snorted. “I don’t need to cook with my mom anymore, Elizabeth. I’m a big boy now and can handle the stove all by myself.”

“Not what I meant. Do you try out new recipes alongside your mother? Does she help you, or do you come up with dishes on your own?”

“I spend a lot of the off-season on my own, so yeah, I cook for myself. Why?”

She folded the towel and hung it on the rack. “No reason.”

No reason his ass. But he wasn’t going to question her further because he didn’t want to encourage her stupid notion of him and cooking and making anything promotional out of it. Wasn’t gonna happen.

“Lizzie?”

She turned to face him. “Yes?”

“Drop this idea. I mean it.”

She lifted one shoulder. “Okay. Sure. If that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want. I cook because it’s fun and relaxes me. I don’t want you exploiting it.”

She nodded. “Understood, Gavin.”

Somehow he didn’t think she really understood. Elizabeth with an idea was like a dog with a meaty bone. Once she got hold of it, nothing was going to make her let go.

And that worried him.

TEN

THE SUN CAME OUT AGAIN AND BASEBALL RESUMED. Elizabeth was glad to get out of the house. She’d always hated being cooped up. Even in Saint Louis, she’d go out in the rain or snow if she had to.

Now that the preseason was in full swing, she actually enjoyed the crowds and the atmosphere of the games. For the past few days the Rivers had played on the road, which meant Elizabeth had stayed at the beach house while Gavin traveled. It gave her time to catch her breath and do some work.

Today was the Rivers’ first day back on their home field. Gavin had come home late last night. She’d been asleep. He’d woken her up by crawling into bed and making love to her. She hadn’t minded that at all. In fact, waking up to his warm hands and mouth on her, bringing her to orgasm before she was fully awake, had been an amazing surprise. He’d slid inside her while she was still climaxing, and he’d fucked her with a slow and lazy rhythm, kissing her neck, whispering that he’d missed her, until they’d both come, then fell asleep wrapped around each other.

She could get used to having him around.

Dangerous thought.

She sat with Shawnelle and Haley, and watched the game. Well, she had her laptop on and her face buried in it. But she was really paying close attention to every aspect of the game. Gavin just didn’t know that. No sense in giving his already healthy ego too much of a boost. He already had her heart. She didn’t want to give up her soul to him.

“Nice to see you back here,” Shawnelle said. “Gavin’s playing much better now that his lucky charm is back where she belongs.”

Elizabeth dragged her gaze away from profit-and-loss statements and Gavin’s position at first base to frown at Shawnelle. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, everyone knows you’re Gavin’s good-luck charm,” Haley said, leaning forward from Shawnelle’s left side. “He played like total shit while you were gone those few days last week. You come back and boom—suddenly his batting improves.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I don’t think my presence has much to do with his batting average.”

“Uh-huh.” Shawnelle dipped her sunglasses down to her nose and gave Elizabeth a look. “Honey, you have everything to do with how that boy plays ball. We’re not blind. We see how he glances up here to see whether you’re paying attention or not. So pull your head out of that laptop and look at him. Let him know you’re rooting him on.”

“Oh, I’m rooting him on. And I’m definitely paying attention. I just don’t want him to know that.”

“Huh?” Haley’s confused expression told Elizabeth the girl knew nothing about power plays.

“If he sees me hanging on his every play, then he’ll think he owns me. It’s bad enough I agreed to stay down here during preseason. I can’t give him everything.”

Shawnelle arched a brow. “Seems to me you already have, haven’t you? You love him, don’t you?”

Elizabeth looked around, glad no one else was sitting near them. “I do not.”

“Liar. Even I can see it, and I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed,” Haley said.