“There are several questions you need to answer tonight in order to get any food.” His tone was deep and husky. “First, are you wearing your toe socks?”
I arched an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
Dillon beeped his horn. When his car rumbled to life, so did my stomach. I felt like I was on my very first date ever. My hands became clammy, my mouth became dry, and I had the urge to jump off the porch and chase Dillon down as his car sped away.
“Well?” Kelton’s bulging biceps poked out from under his T-shirt as he crossed his arms.
“For me to know and you to find out.” I stuck out my tongue. If he wanted to play, I could too.
“Wrong answer.” He turned and moved farther inside. “Oh, and be careful with that tongue.”
I tripped over the threshold, almost falling flat on my face. Fortunately I caught myself on the edge of the heavy door. When I was safely upright, Kelton was gone. I slinked into the opulent townhome as if I was robbing the place. I giggled at the thought. As big as the place was, I’d bet no one would even hear me. I peeked into the dining room on my right. The shiny wooden table was clear. I guessed we weren’t eating in there. He’d said he liked dessert before the main meal. A picture of Kelton licking chocolate off me ignited heat in my cheeks.
“Lizzie,” Kelton called.
I glanced ahead. My chin hit my chest. I shook my head once then again. I knew Kelton had said he was cooking, but to actually see him standing in the large foyer whisking something in a stainless steel bowl just didn’t jive with his playboy persona.
He strutted up to me. “I’ll ask you again. Are you wearing your toe socks?” No grin. No jackass smile. His expression was serious.
“What is it with you and my toe socks?”
“That was the requirement.”
“Do you want to inspect me before I go any farther?” Good thing I’d worn my best bra and panties.
He froze, his hooded blue gaze undressing me. He let go of the whisk, dipped his finger into the bowl, then scooped out a dab of white stuff. Before I could clear the cobwebs clouding my brain, he smeared the sugary concoction over my lips. My tongue slithered out, tasting the sweet meringue.
He groaned, then repeated the process. Only this time he eased his finger into my mouth. A fire erupted low in my belly as I sucked on his finger. Not a bad way to start a date.
A ding went off. He slowly removed his finger. “Dessert is almost ready,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Come on.” He began whisking again.
He wasn’t kidding about dessert before dinner. I wiped my mouth with my fingers and removed my jacket, dropping it on a chair next to the Cinderella-like staircase before following him into the spacious kitchen. The cabinets were a rich, dark cherry; the appliances large and stainless steel; and the counters white marble. A marble island traveled from one end of the kitchen to the wall of windows in the back. My mom would’ve been in heaven. She had remodeled our kitchen at our home in Miami not long before the boating accident.
Kelton removed a pie from the restaurant-grade fridge.
“Lemon meringue? No chocolate and strawberries?” I took a seat on a barstool across from him.
“Lemon pie is your favorite.” He set down the pie on the island and began covering the top with meringue, concentrating on getting the peaks just right.
In addition to the giddiness making my heart race, shock and awe careened through me. “What else do you remember?”
“Your favorite color is blue. You love the ocean, dolphins, football, and Grimms’ fairy tales.” He finished adding the topping to the pie then licked the spatula.
Blue because of your eyes. I’m still in love with you, and football because I loved when you tackled me.
“Is this our dinner?” I didn’t see any protein or veggies.
He grinned sinfully as he retrieved a fork then came around to sit next to me. “This is where the game begins. For every right answer, you get a bite of pie. For every wrong answer or refusal to answer, I take off a piece of your clothing. You in?” He dragged the pie over to us.
I was wearing jeans, a belt, and a tank top underneath a sheer lace tee that Bee had insisted I wear. She’d said it was eye-catching. “Um. This is how you envisioned our first date?” I had other ideas—a movie, dinner, and good conversation.
“Yep,” he said easily.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Kelton didn’t do normal. I’d always liked a challenge, anyway. I was also intrigued by what questions he would ask me. And he did go to a lot of trouble to bake my favorite dessert. “But the pie isn’t done. You’re supposed to bake the pie again so the meringue can stiffen then let it cool for a couple of hours.”
“Lizzie. You’re stalling. And I know you like it this way.”
Darn guy was right. I loved freshly made meringue that I could eat right out of the bowl. “I’m in on one condition. I get to ask you questions too.” If we were playing a game of Strip Questions, it was only fair that the tables were turned.
Excitement blazed in his eyes. “Fair. First question. Are you nervous?”