Lead Me Home. Vicki Thompson Lewis
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like that.”
“Exactly! From what I could tell, she’s been making the same kind of meals for years, and I thought everyone would like a change of pace.”
“That’s a good idea, but maybe it was too sharp a turn for them, considering they’ve probably never eaten gourmet food before.”
She nodded. “I can see that might be a possibility.”
“I have an idea for an experiment, if you’d like to hear it.” And boy, did he like this idea. He hoped she would.
“Sure. Go ahead.”
“I know plain food and I know gourmet food, so I could be your consultant and taste-tester while I’m here. We could look for recipes that are fun for you, but give a nod to the sort of food the cowboys are more used to. And then we could see what happens.”
“That would be great, but I can’t believe you have time to spare. You’re here to work with Houdini, not help in the kitchen. I don’t think Sarah or the Chance men would go for it.”
He’d anticipated that argument. “I won’t be training Houdini at night. After several hours of work, we’ll need a break from each other.”
“Yes, and you’ll probably be exhausted.”
He smiled. If she only knew how much the prospect of spending time with her would revitalize him. “I might be physically tired at the end of the day, but all we’d be doing is going over recipes and planning menus.” He could imagine other activities, too, but he wouldn’t count on it. She might not be the least bit interested in him.
“I’d want you to clear it with Sarah, and make sure she knows it wasn’t something I asked for. They’ve been really good to me, and I don’t want them to think I asked for extra help.”
“I’ll check with Sarah, but I really doubt she’ll object.” He had a hunch she’d be overjoyed if he stepped in and made some menu adjustments. Pete Beckett might have taken the kids to the diner tonight to stave off a revolt.
Aurelia gazed at him. “You’re a very nice man, Matthew, to offer this when you probably should be relaxing down at the bunkhouse instead of coming up here to work.”
He felt a pang of guilt. Although his original intent had been to help the cowhands out of a jam, now the plan was mostly an excuse to hang around Aurelia and get to know her better. He wasn’t sure where that might lead, and he might be making a huge mistake.
She had home and hearth written all over her, and he couldn’t offer her anything along those lines right now. But maybe, despite outward appearances, she wasn’t looking for permanence. He’d never know unless he asked.
His plate was empty, and so was his wineglass. He should probably leave now. The boys in the bunkhouse expected him for a game of cards and he’d had a long day.
On the other hand, Aurelia had indicated a willingness to go along with his plan, and her cookbooks were still on the table. He glanced at them. “We could start tonight, if you want.”
“Tonight? Oh, no. You must be jet-lagged. Besides, I’ve already narrowed it down to either spinach soufflés or ratatouille for tomorrow, so I’m okay for the time being. If Sarah agrees, we can start tomorrow night.”
“I’m really not that tired.” Adrenaline had kicked in the moment he’d walked into the kitchen and caught sight of her. He hesitated. “Can I say something about your two options?”
She waved a hand. “Be my guest.”
“I’ve had many spinach soufflés, and I’m sure with your talent you’d turn out something amazing. But I’d argue against making that for tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“The color. To these guys, it’ll look like you baked a frog.”
She burst out laughing. “Okay, I can see you think like a cowboy. Apparently I don’t because I never would have thought of that.”
Her laughter charmed him. He was also impressed by her willingness to be flexible. “If you haven’t been around cowboys before, I don’t know how you could be expected to understand them.”
“But I need to, obviously.”
“That’s where I come in.”
“How about the ratatouille? I suppose that’s out because of the name. I doubt cowboys are fond of rats.”
“So don’t call it that. Call it vegetable stew.”
“And make it the authentic way?”
“Maybe not quite.” He shoved back his chair and picked up his plate. “Let’s have some more wine while we talk about how you can modify the recipe to make it more cowboy-friendly.”
“I’ll admit I’m intrigued.” She stood, too. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”
“I am if you are.”
“Okay, then. That book on the top of the pile has the ratatouille recipe in it. If you want to take a look, I’ll tidy up and bring out the baked figs.”
“Great.” Someone in his travels had told him that figs were beneficial to a man’s family jewels. Considering his state of mind, he couldn’t think of a more appropriate dessert for her to serve.
AURELIA COULDN’T TELL whether Matthew had offered his services because he was a good guy or because he found her attractive. A couple of times she’d noticed what could be a gleam of interest in his eyes, but it could also have been appreciation for her cooking. At least he liked that about her.
She quickly refrigerated the remaining food and put his plate in the commercial-sized dishwasher. When she glanced at the table, he was intently studying the ratatouille recipe. “I can warm up the figs or serve them cold with whipped cream. How would you like them?”
He glanced up. “Cold with whipped cream sounds good.”
“All right.” When he focused those blue eyes on her, she lost track of everything else.
She’d never licked whipped cream off a man’s body, but she wouldn’t mind licking it off his. She could imagine popping open the snaps on that blue denim shirt and squirting a trail of whipped cream down the middle of his chest toward an even more interesting part of his anatomy … oh, yeah. They could have fun times with a can of whipped cream.
He glanced down at his shirt. “Did I spill food on myself?”
Whoops. “No, no, I was just … wondering how you stay so fit.” Way to go, girl. Now he knows for sure that you were ogling his chest. Her cheeks grew hot. “I mean, it must be tough with all your traveling, and I know you love to eat, and …” Dear God, the more she explained, the worse it got.
Fortunately he looked more amused than offended. “The horses make sure I don’t get lazy and fat.”
“Well, that’s logical.” She struggled to remember what she’d been about to do that had started the whole whipped-cream fantasy. Oh, yes. Dessert.
“So go ahead and pile on the whipped cream. I’ll work it off.”
“Coming right up.” She turned quickly back to the counter and resisted the urge to fan herself. She’d just bet he could work it off, in any number of ways. Right now she was picturing how many calories they could burn if they got naked.
Taking a deep breath, she uncovered the leftover figs. Darned if those figs didn’t remind her of a certain part of the male anatomy. She hadn’t planned to have any, but she found herself dishing a couple for herself.
Normally she would have whipped the cream herself instead of using a commercial version, but making her own would take too long. For the sake of convenience, she grabbed the pressurized can that had been in the refrigerator when she’d arrived last week.
After