“Stop,” he said, pointing a spatula at her, but amusement and heat warmed his eyes.
“Fine.” She mock-pouted. “I’ll behave. For now.” He flipped some kind of potato patty. “Seriously, what are we having?”
“Roasted chicken with chardonnay and fresh herbs, potato galette and asparagus with brown buttered breadcrumbs.”
“Ah, so another blah-blee-blue.”
A chortle came from him. “Yeah, that.”
“Well, if it’s as good as the last time, I can’t wait.”
Mac worked over the stove for a while, then asked, “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
She rested her chin on a hand. “Sounds like I’m spending it with you.”
His gaze darted to her, then he tsked softly, shaking his head. “You don’t even know what I’m about to ask you.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m game.”
He studied her for a moment. “You really don’t back away from anything, do you?”
The smile she gave felt more strained than usual. He was actually dead wrong. Mac had the ability to break her heart. She’d had enough heartbreak to last a lifetime, so she was deliberately backing away from that possibility—and fast. Keeping things light and sexually charged was all she would allow herself to give him.
She shrugged. “Just call me curious. If you’re wanting me to do something with you, I’m intrigued enough to want to go.”
“There’s a fight tomorrow night. It’s a local MMA circuit. Lance signed up about two months ago to fight, and honestly, I’m itching to get back inside the cage, so Lance is going to see if they’ll fit me in. Not sure yet if they will, but either way, we’ll get to see some fights.”
“Why wouldn’t they let you fight?”
“These are smaller circuits, Gayle. While they have some decent fighters with great potential, they may have only fought a handful of amateur fights and a couple pro-level fights. I’m part of the biggest cage fighting organization in the world. I really have an unfair advantage.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure there will be at least one guy there who’ll be more than willing to fight Mac ‘The Snake’ Hannon and gladly take the ass-beating just for the bragging rights.”
A soft laugh. “Looking at it that way, you’re probably right.”
“You won’t get into trouble with your contract or anything?”
He shook his head. “As long as they’re not advertising me and I don’t accept money or wear sponsor gear, I’m good.”
“So I finally get to see you in action, huh? And this will be my first actual fight, too. Hot.”
“I’ll show you hot afterward.”
She grinned. “Oh. I’m counting on it.”
Mac plated the food, handed one to her, and she sat down at the table. As her gaze bounced between the beautifully golden chicken breast and the crispy potato patty, she couldn’t decide where to start. Her stomach grumbled in protest. She finally dug in to the potatoes and her taste buds shot to their feet, cheering. Jesus, the man could cook.
“How is it?” Mac asked.
She paused in chewing and sent him an incredulous look. “Really? You seriously have to ask?”
Chuckling, he cut into his chicken and took a bite. They ate without speaking, because there was no talking when consuming Mac’s meals. She savored every delish morsel of the amazing talent he no longer shared with the public. It really was a damn shame.
As she enjoyed the food, she watched him eat—watched his lips part, then close around the fork, his jaw work as he chewed. He made even the simple act of eating hot as hell.
So much so, when she felt the belt of her robe loosen, instead of tightening it, she left it alone, shifting occasionally to encourage more slacking. Slowly the robe began to gape, widening until it hung off one shoulder and displayed the top of her breast. If the way Mac kept pausing during chews was any indication, he’d noticed. She pretended to be oblivious.
As much as she loved it when Mac took his time with her, right now she throbbed for a mauling. She hoped with this tease, she’d either be up against a wall or bent over a table as soon as they finished dinner. The moment he placed his fork on his plate, she stood and leaned over, letting the front gap as she gathered the plates. He stilled, his gaze latching onto her.
Fighting a smirk of triumph, she straightened. As she turned, the weak knot barely keeping the robe closed gave way completely, and the fabric fell open. With her back to him, he couldn’t see, but he knew she was now exposed. The ultimate tease. She couldn’t have planned that better if she’d tried. And, one…two…three…
His chair scraped against the hardwood.
Pursing her lips in satisfaction, she continued to the sink, listening to his steps advancing behind her.