Author: Jaci Burton

It was interesting having a woman in his kitchen, something that had never happened here before. She looked—cute. Domestic. Comfortable. He sure as hell never had a woman come over and cook for him. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told her he didn’t invite people over to his place. It was too personal. If he spent the night with a woman, it was at her place, or at a hotel. There were no sleepovers here, no fixing breakfast in the morning together, no spending the day together. That had always seemed too close to a relationship and he steered clear of those. Building his career was enough of a full-time job. Dragging a woman into the mess that was his life would be more than he could handle. He wasn’t ready.

Though he sure seemed to be doing a lot of relationship-type things with Savannah. Going out for dinner. Having her over to his parents’ house. Dancing with her at his cousin’s wedding. Then again, maybe all those things were coincidence—just the nature of her job and the fact they always seemed to end up together lately.

And relationships were things he sure as hell didn’t want to be thinking about right now. Or ever. Time to focus on food, work, and keeping his priorities straight.

Once the fire was hot enough, he went inside.

Savannah was conducting a symphony. Music played on her iPod. She was dancing as she moved from one task to another. Pots littered the stove. She was preparing lettuce, slicing strawberries, and boiling something that smelled really good. He stayed still, leaning against the doorway to watch as she hummed along to the music, comfortable in his kitchen.

There was that word again—comfortable. He waited for his own discomfort to set in. It didn’t.

She turned around and spotted him. “How long have you been there?”

“Awhile.”

She grinned, not at all concerned that he’d been spying on her routine. “I can’t help myself. Being in the kitchen relaxes me.” She handed him the steaks. “Go cook. I like mine medium.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He got out of her way and did his thing, and let her do hers. By the time he brought the finished steaks in, she had the lobster tail on plates, along with rice and a bed of lettuce for the steaks.

He gave her the plate and she scooped the steaks onto the lettuce, then poured sauce over them, sprinkled a little cheese and a few strawberries over the top of the meat. He frowned.

She laid her hand over his. “I know—you like your steak naked. But trust me.” She handed him a plate and they moved to the table.

She’d already poured wine for both of them, so they sat and he dug into the steak, his first inclination to brush away the stuff on the top of the meat. But he didn’t want to insult her, so he scooped the strawberries and cheese into his mouth along with the steak.

“Oh, god,” he said after he swallowed. Who knew those flavors would go so well together? “What the hell is this sauce?”

She took a sip of wine, then smiled. “I told you to trust me. I wouldn’t ruin a great steak. It’s just a balsamic reduction, some blue cheese, and the sweetness of the strawberries bring out the flavor.”

“It’s really good.” So was the lobster. Perfectly tender, and she’d even provided melted butter. “Can you come over every night and cook for me?”

“I thought you said you cooked.”

“Eggs. Bacon. Tuna. Burgers. Basic stuff. I’m no gourmet cook like you.”

Her cheeks darkened pink. “I’m hardly a gourmet cook. I do like to dabble here and there with different recipes when I have some free time.”

“You’re very good at it. This is great food.”

“Thank you.”

“Where did you learn to cook like this?”

“Television cooking shows, the Internet, and a lot of practice.”

He ate everything on his plate, and what was left on Savannah’s that she didn’t finish. After that he did the dishes, since she’d done most of the work on the cooking, though he wasn’t able to kick her out of his kitchen. She stood by and helped him load the dishwasher, and when she wasn’t doing that she was cleaning off the stove, counter, and table and putting things away, despite his suggestion that she take her glass of wine and sit down.

“Don’t you ever relax?” he asked as he dried his hands on the dish towel.

“This is relaxing for me. It’s what I do after a long day. I cook. I clean up.”

He shook his head. “This is work.”

She laughed. “Not to me it isn’t. I travel so much that most of the time I eat restaurant food or room service. To be able to eat a home-cooked meal is heaven for me. To cook it myself is a double bonus.”

Women were odd creatures.

No, Savannah was an odd creature. Most of the women he went out with were perfectly content to have him take them out for a pricey dinner. Not once had any woman offered to cook him a meal.

She was unique.

He led them into the living room. Savannah took a seat at the end of the sofa. He almost sat in the chair across from her, to maintain that professional distance and all, but decided on the sofa, too. “What you said about being at home? I know what you mean. Once the season starts we’re either on the road and when we have a home game we’re at practice. Not that I’m a big cook to start with, but I’m tired by the time I get home, so I’ll grab something on the way. I eat a lot of take-out food. Don’t tell my mom.”

Her lips lifted. “Your secret is safe with me.” She kicked off her shoes and tucked her legs under her on the sofa.

“You’re a woman of many talents, Savannah.”

“Not really. I just like to cook. And men are easily impressed by a woman who knows how to cook. It caters to one of their base needs.”

“Food and sex.”

“Exactly.”

“So you’re saying I’m easy?”

“No. I’m saying you’re a man.”

He laughed. She had a dry wit and could send a subtle zinger with her sarcasm using that sweet Southern voice of hers. He had to admit, he liked that.

But he liked strong women, not ones who would cry if you looked at them the wrong way. She wasn’t the type of woman to manipulate a man with tears to get what she wanted. He couldn’t see her ever doing something like that, since she was so straight-up honest. She was sweet on the outside, but she was tough. He’d given her a hard time in a lot of ways and she hadn’t yet folded.

She set her wine on the table and shifted to face him. “I want to talk to you about some suggestions I have.”

“Work-related suggestions?”

She cocked her head a little to the side. “Of course.”

“Not tonight.” He stood and grabbed her wineglass, went into the kitchen and refilled it. When he came back, he could see she was confused.

“Look, Peaches. I appreciate your cooking me dinner, and I enjoy your company, but I’m not all about working twenty-four hours a day.” He handed the glass to her. “Sit back and relax.”

She took the glass from him. “My job is to work with you to repair your image.”

“And we are working on that, aren’t we?”

“We’ve barely scratched the surface. I have a plan.”

“I’ll just bet you do. But we’re not going to get into that tonight.”

“Really. And what are we going to get into tonight?”

He liked the sound of her voice, the soft, sexy way she asked that question, almost in invitation. He didn’t think he was reading anything that wasn’t there. He was smart enough to know the difference between a woman who was interested and a woman who wasn’t. And while he’d promised himself he was going to keep it professional, she was the one opening the door now.

“I thought maybe we’d just hang out together tonight. Get to know each other a little better.”

The look she gave him almost made him laugh. She looked tense, maybe even a little horrified.

“Okay, I can tell that’s not what you want to do. Did you have something else in mind?”

She put her glass down again and stood. “Yes. Work.”

He stood, too, came over to her. “No work tonight, Savannah.”

“Then I should definitely go.”

“You’re afraid of me.”

She let out a snort. “I am definitely not afraid of you.”

“So it’s just men in general?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t play me. We had a nice night. Let’s just leave it at that.”

She went into the kitchen and he followed. She grabbed her purse.

“No, really. Is it all men, or is it just me?”

“It’s just you.”

“I make you—what? Uncomfortable? Or do I make you realize it’s been a while since you’ve been with a man?”

Her eyes blazed hot. He liked to see the cool Southern belle spitting a little fire. “You’re presuming a lot, Cole.”

“Maybe I am.”

“Don’t.” He was blocking the doorway, so she laid her hand on his chest to move him out of the way. He grasped her wrist and she halted.

He felt her pulse racing and he knew it wasn’t because she was mad. He could see it in her eyes, the way her pupils dilated, the way her lips parted. And when she took in a breath, it wasn’t so she could spit out words of anger.

She was turned on. So what held her back?

“Look,” he said. “I know we work together, but I’m good at separating the two.”

“I don’t mix business and pleasure.”

He moved in closer. “Have you ever tried it?”

“Cole. We’ve already tried this and agreed this was a bad idea.”

“No. You thought it was a bad idea.” He lifted her hand around his neck, swept his arm around her back and tugged her close. “But you already know I never do the right thing.”

He bent, hesitated, waited for her to object. He didn’t feel any resistance, so he took her mouth in a kiss. He’d been dying to taste her all night. She tasted like sweet wine and mint, her lips as soft as her skin. She melted against him, her hand sliding into his hair.

This time they weren’t outside, weren’t in public, and there was nothing to stop them from taking this further.

Nothing except Savannah, and all he felt from her this time was surrender.

SOMEHOW, SAVANNAH HAD KNOWN THIS WAS GOING TO happen. Maybe she’d even subconsciously orchestrated it by planning this dinner at Cole’s place tonight.

Despite trying her best to not put herself in this position, here she was, letting Cole kiss her.

Oh, who was she kidding? There was no “letting” going on here. She wasn’t passive in all this. She was a full-on participant, pressing herself up against him. She’d dropped her purse to the floor and sifted her hands through his hair, holding on like she was afraid he’d disappear if she let go. She was all in on this and nothing was going to stop her from having him. He’d been a fixation since that first night she laid eyes on his sexy body, since the first time he hit her with those gorgeous, sinful eyes of his.

She’d wanted him, and now she was going to have him, damn the consequences.

He waited, tensing as she shifted. Did he think she was going to run? He likely did since she’d pulled back so many times before. But not this time. She moved in closer, sliding her other hand around his neck, tangling her fingers into his hair. And when she released a sound of pleasure from the back of her throat, he relaxed.

He flexed his fingers against her hip and her knees weakened. She loved the sensation of his hands on her and wanted a lot more of it. He let his other hand roam up her back, teasing the bare skin there, before sliding his fingers into her hair.

She tilted her head back, met his gaze. He brushed her hair away from her face and traced her bottom lip with his thumb.