to tie my shoes, how to read. Her name was Mrs. Perrine, my first nanny.”
“Your nanny?”
“You thought I was referring to some nubile young woman. I assure you Mrs. Perrine was anything but nubile or young. She was as tough as any headmaster, but she did have a way with crepes.”
“I’m looking forward to sampling yours.”
He sent her another killer grin. “My crepes?”
He pinned her in place with his blue eyes and suggestive tone. No touching, a little voice warned her. No nothing, just friendship. “Yes, I’m looking forward to trying your crepes, Your Highness. Or maybe I should say Your Chefness, since Mr. Nicholas isn’t around.”
“Marc will suffice,” he said as he retreated to the monstrous refrigerator and rummaged around some more, withdrawing two covered bowls and a block of butter. He set the items on the counter next to Kate and opened the bowls. One held strawberries, the other a stack of what looked to be pancakes.
“Actually,” he said, “the cook has already prepared the crepes, so I will only need to prepare the filling.”
Kate crossed her arms over her middle. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
He gave her a visual once-over, pausing slightly when his gaze passed over her breasts. “You need only stand there and look beautiful, since you seem to do that very well.”
Sheesh. Beautiful? She was bare-faced and bleary-eyed. “You are such a liar, Marc DeLoria.”
His expression went stern. “I have never lied to you, Kate. I have no reason to lie.”
Remorse brought heat of a different kind to Kate’s face. Why couldn’t she stop throwing around the “L” word? “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m not used to men saying those kinds of things to me.”
Marc took a cutting board and knife from the counter and began slicing the strawberries, precisely, slowly. “I assure you, Kate, men have said you’re beautiful, even if not to your face. Perhaps you give off signals that indicate you don’t wish that kind of attention.”
Kate frowned. “Do you really think…I mean…do I?”
He leveled his eyes on hers. “You do.”
Kate had never considered that before, but maybe he was right. Maybe she had been too afraid to make herself that accessible for fear that she would be rejected. “Then you’re saying I’m a snob?”
“No. You’re friendly enough yet you still retain an aloofness, as if you are untouchable. Some men find that very intimidating.”
She thought of her one medical school fling with Trevor Allen and how he’d often complained that she seemed to save all her emotions for her parents and her patients. “Do you find it intimidating?”
“No. I find it very appealing.”
A network of chills slid down Kate’s spine as Marc continued to look at her with eyes that could liquefy the stainless steel appliances. How many women had succumbed to his overt sexuality? Probably plenty. And she shouldn’t want to be among them, but for some stupid reason, she did.
Glossing over the moment, Kate turned around and propped her elbows on the counter, her palms supporting her jaws. “Are you sure I can’t help you with something? I feel so useless, just standing here looking beautiful.”
His smile finally reappeared. “Can you melt butter?”
She was melting every time he flashed his dimples. “Yes, I can do that. How much?”
He took a large wooden spoon from a ceramic container, scooped a large chunk of butter from the block then handed it to Kate. “Put this in the pan and watch it for a moment to make sure it doesn’t burn.”
Kate took her place at the stove and slapped the butter into the already heated pan. It sizzled just like the blood in her veins when Marc came up behind her and added the strawberries and brown sugar, his solid arms forming a frame around her.
“Stir that, please.” His warm breath caressed her neck.
“Stir it,” she repeated as if the instructions might be too complex. How ridiculous was that? She’d been through med school, for heaven’s sake. She could cook a few strawberries.
Marc went away for a time and she glanced at him now and then over her shoulder while he mixed whipped cream in a bowl. He returned to the stove with a ladle filled with a clear liquid. Some kind of liqueur, Kate presumed, considering the pungent aroma. Again he stood behind her as he heated the ladle over another burner for a few seconds before igniting it with a gold lighter. The flame rose from the ladle then spread over the strawberry mixture like a blue blanket as Marc poured it into the pan. The flame quietly died away, but the fire spreading through Kate when Marc’s hand came to rest on her waist singed her through and through.
“Now what?” she asked, surprised she had recovered her voice.
“We wait until the alcohol burns for a while.”
Marc’s voice, the heat radiating from his body so close to hers, acted on Kate as if she’d consumed the entire bottle of liqueur. She leaned back against him for support and his arms came around her, strong and inviting. Then he slowly turned her around in those solid arms until she was facing him.
Again Kate witnessed the indecision warring in his eyes, but this time she also saw desire win out before he cradled her jaw in his palms, then touched his mouth to hers. Yet he only brushed her lips with tempered, chaste kisses, drawing back each time until she thought she might go crazy. She wasn’t sure if it was uncertainty on Marc’s part or if he was waiting for her to make the next move. The need to know how it would feel to have him kiss her completely drove Kate to clasp his nape and pull his mouth full against hers to finally have what she craved.
Although she had imagined Marc’s kiss, although she’d thought she was ready, Kate soon realized she’d been totally deceiving herself. Skill wasn’t an adequate enough word to describe Marc DeLoria’s expertise. Never before had she been kissed so softly yet so thoroughly. He used his tongue like a feather, invading her mouth with fine strokes without being at all intrusive. And Kate felt it down to her knees and lower.
He pulled her against him and slid his hand down her back to her hips. She realized the result of this spontaneous kiss when Marc pressed against her, showing Kate up front that he was very affected. And so was she.
After abruptly breaking the kiss, Marc took a step back, rubbed a hand over his jaw and exhaled a long breath. “My apologies, Kate. Something about you standing at the stove made me forget myself.”
Kate wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or insulted. She was, however, very winded and very warm. “Oh, so do you have one of those French maid fantasies or do you just prefer the domestic type?”
His expression turned serious. “I have to remember that nothing has changed since I left you at your hotel door. We really can’t be doing this.”
“We just did.”
“I know, and it shouldn’t happen again.”
Kate
