when?”
His controlled expression softened. “Still the demanding princess I see. But Michael wouldn’t want me giving everything away.”
No, he wouldn’t. One thing she could be certain of, however, was that her brother was trying once more to alter her life somehow. As far as Michael was concerned, she lived in a state of chaos, from her in-house clothing design business cluttering every room, to her lack of domestic skills, to her varied tastes in men.
She mulled the minor facts she had. Kyle was a fantastic chef who had, on occasion, worked for pay preparing meals for her folks’ lavish parties. He earned cash for college in any number of cooking related jobs. He’d done a bit of everything at Amelia’s Bistro, from slapping together sandwiches to bartending.
Still, this catered affair was, today of all days, strange and unnecessary. Michael knew full well their parents had a formal dinner party planned at the family’s Lake Minnetonka home tonight.
“I don’t think I’d be stepping on Mike’s toes by telling you your kitchen here is a bit of a disgrace,” Kyle complained in mock sternness. “Barely enough food to keep a mouse alive. Cheap, mismatched utensils. Outdated stoneware dishes and jelly jar glasses. You have money flowing from your ears. I just don’t get it.”
Grace laughed in the face of reality. “I am after a more homey feel. When we were kids, we were scared to death of breaking something precious. Nothing in this kitchen is precious.”
“You do have wonderful appliances, though.” He lifted up the handle of the paddle shaped board and carried it to the stove, using the knife’s shiny blade to scrape the onion bits into the kettle. He then hovered over the brew with a wooden spoon, adjusting the burner’s flame. “These gas stoves are far superior to electric ones.”
“Really? Why?” Grace sidled up to him, placing red manicured fingertips on his arms.
“A true flame makes for quick and even heat.”
No lie. She closed her eyes, carrying herself off to an erotic place. The red hot pepper steam was seeping into her pores, making her burn everywhere. Suddenly his broad shoulders seemed the full breadth of the tight alley in which they stood. Time and space were squeezed short.
It took a lot of nerve to raise her gaze to his with cool smoothness. To keep her hand on his arm even as he glanced at it with some surprise. But Grace managed. What she lacked in culinary skills, she made up for in nerve.
A thread of sexual tension pulled tight between them. She could almost feel him wince from the imaginary tug.
“Care to join me for a taste?” he asked flirtatiously.
“All right.”
He rooted through the cutlery drawer with a low unexpected whistle, pulling out a tablespoon. He held the curved scoop end flush against her nose, as a magician might doing a spoon trick. “You realize you don’t even have eight full place settings?”
“I do so have them,” she spouted, swatting the arm she’d just caressed.
“Not a matched set,” he persisted.
“See if I care.”
“A challenge I just may accept.” Cupping one hand on her chin, he used the other to dip the spoon into the chili, guide it to her mouth.
“Blow.”
“Huh?”
“Gently,” he encouraged. “On the chili. Don’t want to burn your tongue.”
Trembling with awareness, she allowed him to guide the spoon between her lips. The chili proved thick and satisfying, though a bit spicier than she was accustomed to. A trace line of perspiration quickly formed on her brow.
So much for playing it cool.
He’d set the spoon on the stove top, in no hurry to move his face or hand away from her. “This is a lot of fun,” he murmured, “tormenting you all over again.”
“You and Michael never did play fair with me,” she complained. “The endless teasing about my hair, my clothes…”
“You make us sound awful.”
“Precisely!”
He massaged her chin with his roughened palm. “Well, shouldn’t hurt to give you a hint. In a way, I’m Michael’s birthday present to you.”
His tone was unmistakably provocative. If he thought she was still harmless fun, though, he was in for a big surprise himself. She touched his collarbone, skimming a flame tipped fingernail along his throat. Kissing Kyle full on the mouth, without the old excuse of mistletoe was growing just too tempting. “Well, happy birthday to me,” she said huskily. Moving her hand to his neck and she began to pull him down. Their lips brushed in a featherlight fencing.
Then the back screen door slammed.
“Grace, what the hell are you doing to him?”
The pair broke free at the sound of Michael North’s boom.
Grace turned slowly to confront her brother saucily. “Once you give a birthday present, you have no control over how it’s handled.”
Michael broke into a wide attractive grin, which greatly resembled his sister’s. They also shared the same sparkling green eyes and reddish brown hair. He was huskier though, and about a foot taller than she. They also parted company in choice of day wear. While Grace dressed the part of the free spirited artist, Michael dressed formally, befitting his position at the family’s accounting firm. Today it was a navy gabardine suit.
“He wasn’t supposed to tell you anything, brat,” Michael complained. “I wanted the pleasure.”
“Mike,” Kyle broke in urgently, his eyes darting the room. “What about—”
Michael gave a glance out the screen. “Right out here on the stoop.”
Kyle sighed in relief.
“What’s out on the stoop?” Grace asked coyly.
“Never you mind.” Michael kept watch out the door, primed to keep his sister at bay. “We’re playing a game.”
Grace inhaled in anticipation. She had an idea of what could be out there. The gift she’d asked for!
“So, you give the whole show away?” Michael demanded of his pal.
“Not yet. But she was just about to pry the answers right out of me. With her wiles. When did Gracie get wiles, Mike?”
Grace tapped her foot on the hardwood floor. “Fellas, my patience is running thin.”
“You’re gonna love this, sis. Kyle’s the gift for the girl who has everything.”
Her heart tripped dangerously. “Meaning?”
“I’ve hired him to supply you with some sorely needed nutrition, to make sense of this topsy-turvy kitchen.”
“What?”
