Always Means Forever. Deborah Fletcher Mello
Читать онлайн книгу.
was controlled and confident and Darwin was willing to bet that Bridget didn’t have a clue just how intimidating she could be to a man.
Bridget could bring a man to his knees with just the hint of a smile. And when she opened her mouth to speak, those around her were usually bowled over by her intellect, her beguiling sense of humor. And her laugh could make a whole room feel comfortable to be around her.
And damn, he thought as he laid four strips of chicken breast against a plastic cutting board, she smelled sweet, like a delicate concoction of vanilla and honey. As he’d wrapped his arms around her in greeting, it had taken every ounce of his control not to trail his tongue in the crevice of her neck to see if she tasted just as tantalizing. He heaved a deep sigh and Bridget looked up from her reading to meet his gaze with her own.
She smiled and his stomach did a quick flip. He smiled back, praying in the back of his mind that he didn’t ruin this meal, his attention focused on everything but what he was cooking.
“You do that quite well,” Bridget said, breaking the silence.
“Excuse me?”
She gestured in his direction. “Cooking. You are good at it. I’ve been watching how easily you’ve been moving around in my kitchen. It’s almost like a ballet the way you’ve been dancing behind that counter. And whatever is in that pan smells incredible.”
Darwin chuckled. “Girl, I don’t do ballet. I’m more of a tap-dance, hip-hop kind of guy.”
Bridget laughed with him. “Excuse me! Either way, you do your thing very well. You’ve got good moves.”
“Well, it’s easy when you’ve got a great kitchen to work in,” he responded. “Are you sure you don’t cook? Your kitchen is stocked way better than my own.”
She shook her head. “Thank you, but no, it’s more for show than anything else. I could probably burn water without any effort.”
He nodded. “I guess I’ll have to stop by more often and take advantage of this.”
Bridget’s eyes widened as he grinned in her direction. “Any…any time,” she stammered, the prospect of Darwin returning for any reason raising her temperature.
The duo laughed, then almost simultaneously returned to what they were doing. Bridget grinned into the manila folder that lay open on the tabletop. Her body was on overdrive. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. Darwin was covering the chicken strips in flour, an egg wash, and then seasoned breadcrumbs before laying them into a pan of sizzling olive oil. The aromas wafting through the room had her insides bubbling with hunger, and the man himself had stirred a low flame through the rest of her.
A girl could get used to this, she thought as he moved effortlessly from one saucepan to another. She closed her eyes and then pinched herself, grasping just a bit of the flesh at her wrist between the thumb and forefinger of her other hand. If this wasn’t real, she needed to wake up before it went any further. When she opened her eyes again, Darwin was still there, still moving as though he’d always belonged right there in her kitchen and her life. As he pulled a tablespoon of simmering sauce to his lips, blowing lightly over the hot substance, Bridget closed her eyes for a second time, imagining what it might be like to have those lips blowing warm breath against her skin.
Darwin’s deep voice suddenly shook her from her reverie as he stepped in behind her, a large hand pressed easily against the center of her back. The tips of his fingers burned hot against the flesh beneath her silk blouse.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?” she asked, nervous energy quivering in her voice.
“No. I apologize,” Darwin responded, smiling down at her. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I just thought you might want to set the table. The food’s almost ready.”
Bridget stood up quickly, shifting away from the rise of heat that was spreading like a raging itch through her body. As if sensing her reaction, Darwin clenched his fingers into a tight fist and crossed both arms behind his back, staring sheepishly in her direction. The earlier awkwardness between them suddenly resurfaced with a vengeance.
Chapter 4
Roshawn and Jeneva were giggling hysterically into their telephone receivers. Bridget didn’t find a thing funny about her situation and she said so.
“You two get right on my nerves. I called for some advice and instead you’re making fun of me. I hate you both.”
“Don’t say hate. That’s not nice,” Jeneva responded.
“And it’s very funny,” Roshawn quipped. “You and Darwin have actually gone from making goo-goo eyes at each other to playing pocket pool. I personally think you’re making great progress. Not!”
Jeneva laughed.
“Pocket pool?” Bridget questioned. “What’s pocket pool?”
“You know how you play pool? That game with the long stick and the balls that you sink into the little holes?”
“Those of us with a little refinement call that billiards.”
“Yeah, well, whatever you want to call the game, you two are playing it with both of your hands in your pockets instead of on each other. Unfortunately, that makes it kind of hard to sink his—”
“Don’t even say it!” Bridget shook her head, fighting to suppress the smile pulling at her lips. “Roshawn, you are too nasty!”
“But she has a point,” Jeneva interjected. “You like him and he likes you and for the life of me I can’t figure out what’s keeping you two from hooking up. It’s been almost six years and the only kiss you’ve gotten has been on your cheek.”
“And it wasn’t the right cheek, either.” Roshawn laughed. “I keep telling you he can’t get there if you keep your clothes on.”
“I’m convinced it’s just not meant to be. He doesn’t see me any differently from how he sees you, Jeneva.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. Darwin is usually a lot smoother around women. Him being so nervous tells me he sees you quite differently.”
“And he cooked for you. That has to count for something,” Roshawn added. “So what else happened? Finish your story.”
Bridget sighed. “Well, you would have thought I’d never set a dinner table before. I couldn’t remember where my good silverware was. I knocked the water glasses over twice, dropped the wine bottle and forgot to light the candles.”
“But was the food any good?” Jeneva asked.
“To die for. That man can cook his behind off. And he made dessert, too! It was the cutest little dish of wafer cookies, ice cream and sautéed peaches. He served it in a champagne glass.”
“That’s all well and good. But I want to know who had to wash all the dishes he dirtied?” Roshawn asked.
“We both did. He washed and I dried. Then he went home so I could finish reviewing his contracts.”
“Did he kiss you good-night at least?” Roshawn inquired.
“No. In fact, he rushed out of here so fast I think I may have scared him.”
The women laughed and Bridget could feel her face warming from embarrassment as she remembered how quickly Darwin had raced out of her home.
“But you get to see him again, right? To give him back his papers?”
Bridget nodded into the receiver. “Tomorrow. I’m taking them over to his studio in the morning.”
“Well, wear something low-cut,” Roshawn chimed. “Sounds like you need to step it up a notch.”
Bridget heaved a deep sigh. Stepping it up a notch didn’t begin to address what she needed to do, she thought. What