The Last Lone Wolf / Seduction and the CEO. Maureen Child
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and glanced around. “Where’s Kevin?”
“Oh, I told him I’d fix dinner tonight. He’s going into town to see his girlfriend.”
Jericho scowled at that. Not only did she take over his damn house, she started giving his employees the night off.
“You know, I didn’t even realize you had a town close by. Imagine that, I got lost for what felt like hours and never saw the town?” She shook her head and laughed a little. “Must make it easier than driving all the way down the mountain when you need supplies.”
He just stared at her. The woman talked more than anyone he’d ever known.
“It’s not a problem that Kevin left for the night, is it?” she asked, watching him warily. “I only thought that since I’m going to be taking over his job soon—”
He narrowed his eyes on her. “That hasn’t been decided yet.”
“Oh, I know, but I believe in positive thinking.”
“Uh-huh.”
She smiled again. “Yes, I can imagine what you think of it, but affirmations can really make a difference in your life. Think it, be it, you know.”
“What?”
She laughed again and the rich, throaty sound rolled through the room and settled over him like a blessing.
“I just mean, you put out into the universe what you want to happen and it generally will.”
“The universe.”
“Sure. If all you do is think negative thoughts, then it’s hardly surprising when you only experience negativity, right? So, same goes with the good stuff. Imagine you’re happy doing exactly what you want to do and the universe will find a way to provide you with that dream.”
He shook his head. “So the universe is going to help you through the mountain tests?”
“You bet!” She stirred the contents of a stainless steel pot on the stove. Instantly, even more unbelievably tantalizing aromas drifted into the air. “I’m envisioning myself succeeding and gracefully accepting your congratulations.”
He smiled in spite of everything. She seemed so damn sure of herself. How were you supposed to argue with a woman who thought she could arrange her life simply by thinking?
The scent of whatever she was cooking reached him again and Jericho’s stomach rumbled in appreciation, but he wasn’t about to be seduced by a pot of soup. “You go ahead and keep imagining. I’ve got actual work to do. I’m just going to make a sandwich, then I’ll be gone.”
“Sandwich?” she said, and looked horrified at the notion. “That’s not a meal for a man like you. I think we can do way better than that. Why don’t you sit down and I’ll fix you a snack that will hold you over until dinner.”
He thought about refusing. He really didn’t want to spend any more time around her than he absolutely had to. Especially if she was going to be spouting all of her New Age bull. But if he walked out now, she’d know he was avoiding her and he wasn’t about to let that happen.
Instead, he walked to the high bar table at the back side of the cooking island and took one of the tall seats. He watched her as she pulled an oven door open and reached in with a hot pad to pull out a cookie sheet dotted with what looked like golden-brown half pies.
“This is an amazing kitchen,” she was saying. “This warming drawer for instance. Keeps food hot but doesn’t continue to cook them. And oh, my. The refrigerator shelf under the island—” She shook her head, patted her heart and sighed. “Keeps all of your vegetables right next to the sink and the cutting boards.” She laughed a little and did a more dramatic sigh. “And I’m not sure, but I think I had an orgasm when I saw the Sub-Zero fridge.” She caught herself, winced a little and gave him a sheepish smile. “Did I just say that out loud?”
“You did,” he told her and wished he hadn’t heard her. She said the word orgasm and his body went on red alert, instantly prepared to show her just what an orgasm should really feel like. At the very least, she wouldn’t have had to wonder if she’d had one or not.
“Sorry,” she said and walked to a cupboard for a plate. “I get a little emotional about great kitchens, and let me tell you, this one’s a beauty!”
“Uh-huh.” He didn’t care. Until he’d hired Kevin to cook for them, the most the kitchen had seen was a lot of microwave action from him and Sam and the others who lived here. As long as the kitchen held a fridge for food and beer and provided a sink and ready fire, that was all he needed to know. Jericho remembered the kitchen remodel he’d done to the place years ago, but he’d simply turned the designer loose and hadn’t asked any questions.
Their clients were served simple food and plenty of it. No one had ever complained. Now though, he gave it a quick look, following her pleased gaze. He took in whitewashed plank walls, dark cedar cabinets, dark green granite counters and a gleaming wood floor. There was an industrial-size cooking range, double ovens, a couple of microwaves and a refrigerator big enough to hold supplies for a battalion. That wasn’t even counting the two big freezers situated in the butler’s pantry.
Overhead lights banished shadows, and through the wide windows on every wall, night was creeping its way across the mountain. Inside, though, the oversize room was feeling a little cramped at the moment.
She was standing just opposite him on the other side of the island. In front of her was more granite and a snaking stainless sink that served, as he recalled Kevin telling him once, as an “entertaining sink.” Apparently, you could stock drinks in ice at one end of the sink, then as the ice melted, it simply drained away.
Didn’t impress Jericho any. A cooler was just as good.
“You seem to have found your way around,” he said finally, when he noticed she was simply staring at him waiting for him to say something.
“I have. It’s like exploring an amazing new country.” She slid open the refrigerated drawer, plucked something from inside and dropped it onto a plate beside a pie she’d already taken from the cooking tray. “Now, I want you to try this and I think you’ll be glad I talked you out of having a sandwich,” she said, sliding the plate across the counter toward him.
Jericho shifted his gaze from her to the plate and back again. “What is it?”
“It’s good,” she said, giving him a teasing smile. “Honestly, don’t you have any adventure in your soul?”
“I’ve had plenty of adventures,” he countered. “I just don’t usually include food in them.”
Still, he thought, it did smell good, not that he was going to admit it anytime soon. The half-a-pie was still steaming and alongside it sat a small bowl with a couple of radish roses, curls of carrot and celery beside a small dish of what looked like ranch dip. He lifted his gaze to hers. “Raw vegetables? Not a favorite.”
“I’ll make a note,” she said with a shrug. “But for now, you could eat them anyway. They’re good for you.” Then she waved at the plate. “Try the pasty.”
“Pasty?” One eyebrow lifted. “Not the definition of pasty that I’m familiar with.”
It took a second to register, then she blushed—actually blushed, for God’s sake—chuckled and that soft sound rippled through the room. “I can imagine. But this is a meat pasty. They’re from Cornwall, originally, I think. Some say it pah-stee,” she said. “Wives made them for miners’ lunches. They were easy to carry and hold and satisfying enough to take care of a hardworking man’s hunger.”
Jericho nodded absently as she talked. Picking up the half pie, he sniffed it again, almost suspiciously, then took a bite. The piecrust simply dissolved in his mouth and the filling was … He groaned.
Daisy gave him a bright smile. “You like it!”
“You