For the First Time. Stephanie Doyle
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he’d been rethinking his position. Maybe finding someone he could actually try to develop...what? After so many years of playing, he couldn’t actually say he understood what a real relationship was. He couldn’t fathom a scenario that he would be willing to subject not only himself to, but Sophie, as well.
“What’s the matter?”
Mark shook himself out of his reverie. What the hell was his problem anyway? There was no reason to be thinking about love and sex now.
It was only JoJo who was coming over.
He transferred the lasagna to the dish then splashed the sides of the ceramic with sauce. He turned on the oven and put aluminum foil over the dish, hoping ten minutes of heat might permeate the apartment with the smell of home cooking. He didn’t have to pretend with the bread. Who came home and made fresh bread? As soon as he had the garlic and butter coating ready he could throw the loaf under the broiler. Surely that would give off enough smell to convince anyone that major work had transpired in the kitchen.
“Are you serious about this?” Sophie asked as she watched him methodically set the stage.
“Like a heart attack. Here.” Mark handed his daughter the garbage bag containing all evidence from the restaurant—the receipt, the trays the food came in, even the menu that had been included. “Take this to the trash shoot. Be careful on your return. If she’s already at the door, double back, walk the long way around the hallway and then pretend you’d forgotten to pick up the mail.”
Mark walked to the dish where Sophie had already placed the day’s mail and handed it to her.
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