Alex laughed as he followed her in. “He is. But he’s also your cover, so we need to work smart. We need to keep him happy.”
“Uh huh,” she responded. “Work smart. Got it. I guess you came to tell me how to do that?” She leaned against the kitchen counter between them, waiting for him to answer her.
“Where did you get that dress?” he asked instead. The colors did amazing things to her eyes.
Where’d you get that dress? His inner voice howled with laughter.
He cleared his throat, a stern warning as he settled into one of the kitchen chairs across the counter from her, and added, “You didn’t leave the house, did you?”
“Of course I didn’t.” She paused and tilted her head. “Jackson brought it for me.”
“Did he?” Alex worked hard for that neutral tone.
She shrugged, looking down now to fiddle with dough in a bowl to the side of her. “I think it was kind of an apology. I’d been complaining how hot it was in here with the oven going all day—it is summer. He said it looked cool.” She twisted a smile and peeked up at Alex through her lashes. “He said the color reminded him of my eyes, if you must know.”
Alex gritted his teeth. Oh, hello, Jealousy, you bastard. Get the hell out of my head. She was manipulating him. He knew it. It didn’t mean it wasn’t effective.
He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms.
She seemed put out when she didn’t get any other reaction from him. She raised her brows. “Were you going to impart any ‘work smarter’ wisdom? Or was the stare supposed to cow me into behaving?”
“Pay attention. Don’t be careless. If chef says presentation matters…then present the food on the plate. C’mon, you know this makes a difference.”
She lowered her gaze again, and nodded. “Got it. Guess I can get back to work then.” When Alex didn’t move she looked back at him. This time, she only raised one brow. “Was there something else I screwed up? Or did you want a sample of my shitty cooking? Because the chicken won’t be done baking for another fifteen minutes.”
She turned away, dismissing him and busying herself at the side counter, fingers pulling off bits of dough, rolling them into small logs between her palms, and then shaping them into crescents on the wide, flat pan in front of her. Her posture told him that not only had she been bored, but now she was pissed, too.
Fifteen minutes, huh?
It was probably best that her back was turned so she didn’t see the wide, predatory grin he felt spreading across his face.
He rose and padded into the kitchen to ease up to her. Her body stiffened when she felt him close in behind her. He pressed his palms to the counter on either side of her working space and lowered his mouth to her ear.
“Fifteen minutes sounds perfect,” he growled into her ear. “I think that’s what you asked for when you were stressed out and in need of distraction, wasn’t it? Fifteen minutes? Well, now it’s my turn.”
He closed his mouth around her earlobe, his lips gentle while the tip of his tongue ran along the soft curve of flesh, leaving a trail of popping sparks behind.
She shivered but pulled her head away and turned her face to him, angled down so she didn’t have to meet his eyes.
“You’re the one who said I had to work smarter to make the chef happy. Well, I’m working…” As if to prove her point, she showed him the curved crescent in her hand before settling it onto the pan.
The sugary, nutty scent of the dough rose up and swirled in his nostrils, mixing with the heady, heated fragrance of Lena herself. The scent cued the memory of her taste, and his blood pounded lower.
Dust, I need this.
He dipped his head down to press his lips to the curve where her neck joined her shoulder. When he ran his teeth along her skin, she shuddered in response.
“Stop it.” Her voice was husky in his ears. “You’re distracting me. This is hard.”
A low chuckle bubbled up and hummed against his lips on her skin. “That’s not the only thing that’s hard.” He pressed closer, rubbing himself against her back. “And I promise, I’ve been far more distracted by you than you know.”
She leaned away. He could hear her swallow and then suck in a breath. She shook her head. “You said this was a bad idea. You said you didn’t want—”
“I know what I said, dammit. But I can’t stop thinking about you.” He moved his arms in, wrapping them around her and tucking her in against his body. Her small back curved against his front, and the Dust started swirling, moving in where they were in contact. His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he repeated, and kissed the spot low on her neck that had made her shudder for him, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin.