She laid her hand over his. “I know—you like your steak naked. But trust me.” She handed him a plate and they moved to the table.
She’d already poured wine for both of them, so they sat and he dug into the steak, his first inclination to brush away the stuff on the top of the meat. But he didn’t want to insult her, so he scooped the strawberries and cheese into his mouth along with the steak.
“Oh, god,” he said after he swallowed. Who knew those flavors would go so well together? “What the hell is this sauce?”
She took a sip of wine, then smiled. “I told you to trust me. I wouldn’t ruin a great steak. It’s just a balsamic reduction, some blue cheese, and the sweetness of the strawberries bring out the flavor.”
“It’s really good.” So was the lobster. Perfectly tender, and she’d even provided melted butter. “Can you come over every night and cook for me?”
“I thought you said you cooked.”
“Eggs. Bacon. Tuna. Burgers. Basic stuff. I’m no gourmet cook like you.”
Her cheeks darkened pink. “I’m hardly a gourmet cook. I do like to dabble here and there with different recipes when I have some free time.”
“You’re very good at it. This is great food.”
“Thank you.”
“Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“Television cooking shows, the Internet, and a lot of practice.”
He ate everything on his plate, and what was left on Savannah’s that she didn’t finish. After that he did the dishes, since she’d done most of the work on the cooking, though he wasn’t able to kick her out of his kitchen. She stood by and helped him load the dishwasher, and when she wasn’t doing that she was cleaning off the stove, counter, and table and putting things away, despite his suggestion that she take her glass of wine and sit down.
“Don’t you ever relax?” he asked as he dried his hands on the dish towel.
“This is relaxing for me. It’s what I do after a long day. I cook. I clean up.”
He shook his head. “This is work.”
She laughed. “Not to me it isn’t. I travel so much that most of the time I eat restaurant food or room service. To be able to eat a home-cooked meal is heaven for me. To cook it myself is a double bonus.”
Women were odd creatures.
No, Savannah was an odd creature. Most of the women he went out with were perfectly content to have him take them out for a pricey dinner. Not once had any woman offered to cook him a meal.
She was unique.
He led them into the living room. Savannah took a seat at the end of the sofa. He almost sat in the chair across from her, to maintain that professional distance and all, but decided on the sofa, too. “What you said about being at home? I know what you mean. Once the season starts we’re either on the road and when we have a home game we’re at practice. Not that I’m a big cook to start with, but I’m tired by the time I get home, so I’ll grab something on the way. I eat a lot of take-out food. Don’t tell my mom.”
Her lips lifted. “Your secret is safe with me.” She kicked off her shoes and tucked her legs under her on the sofa.
“You’re a woman of many talents, Savannah.”
“Not really. I just like to cook. And men are easily impressed by a woman who knows how to cook. It caters to one of their base needs.”
“Food and sex.”
“Exactly.”
“So you’re saying I’m easy?”
“No. I’m saying you’re a man.”
He laughed. She had a dry wit and could send a subtle zinger with her sarcasm using that sweet Southern voice of hers. He had to admit, he liked that.
But he liked strong women, not ones who would cry if you looked at them the wrong way. She wasn’t the type of woman to manipulate a man with tears to get what she wanted. He couldn’t see her ever doing something like that, since she was so straight-up honest. She was sweet on the outside, but she was tough. He’d given her a hard time in a lot of ways and she hadn’t yet folded.
She set her wine on the table and shifted to face him. “I want to talk to you about some suggestions I have.”
“Work-related suggestions?”
She cocked her head a little to the side. “Of course.”
“Not tonight.” He stood and grabbed her wineglass, went into the kitchen and refilled it. When he came back, he could see she was confused.
“Look, Peaches. I appreciate your cooking me dinner, and I enjoy your company, but I’m not all about working twenty-four hours a day.” He handed the glass to her. “Sit back and relax.”
She took the glass from him. “My job is to work with you to repair your image.”
“And we are working on that, aren’t we?”
“We’ve barely scratched the surface. I have a plan.”
“I’ll just bet you do. But we’re not going to get into that tonight.”