The chair appeared to be straining.
She fed Oreo a bite of French toast and met Parker’s gaze. “Don’t judge me,” she said.
“Are you kidding? I’m about ready to steal that plate from you. It smells amazing.”
“It’s my secret ingredient.”
He dropped his duffel bag on a chair. Playfully, he moved in behind her, scooped her hair away, and pressed his face to the nape of her neck to smell her. “Is the secret ingredient you?”
“No,” she said, elbowing him with a laugh. But goose bumps broke out on her skin and she shivered. He actually thought maybe she moaned, too, but that might have been him. Unable to help himself, he took another big sniff of her.
“Cinnamon,” he said with a hungry sigh.
“Told you I could cook.” Her voice sounded a little shaky as she dragged a piece on her plate through a river of syrup and stuffed it into her mouth. “It’s just baking that keeps defying me. But no worries.”
He grinned. “Because you’ve got this.”
“Well, yeah.” She smiled.
He stared at the gorgeous, resilient, tough-as-nails woman and felt a mixture of pride, hunger, lust, and, most surprisingly of all, affection.
“So what’s that stuff?” she asked curiously, pointing to his opened duffel bag on the chair. Inside was the one extra camera he hadn’t placed up at Cat’s Paw.
“It’s for surveillance.”
“Like . . . a nanny cam?” she asked.
“Sort of. Except it’s not a continuous feed. It doesn’t roll until it detects motion. You can watch the feed from an app. I drove up to Cat’s Paw and put some in play today.”
“And you have a leftover camera.”
“It’s a spare. In case one malfunctions.”
“Huh.” She ran a finger over it. “Think I could borrow it?”
He stared at her as all sorts of really erotic thoughts vied for first place in his head. He wondered if they were on the same page.
“I’ve always wanted to put one here in the house to see what Oreo does all day long,” she said.
Nope, he thought, laughing at himself. Not on the same page. Not in the same book. “He sleeps on the couch,” Parker said. “He snores. He occasionally farts and wakes himself up. He trolls the kitchen in case the elves have brought him food and then he goes back to the couch. That’s about it, but sure, have at it.” He pulled the camera from the bag and set it on the table. “You’ll need to load the app on your computer.” He rattled it off, expecting her to say never mind, it was too complicated, but she didn’t look intimidated in the least.
In fact, other than when she was attempting to bake, Zoe never looked intimidated at all. And damn if that wasn’t attractive as hell.
She went back to her French toast, taking another bite before moaning.
And Parker went hard. “Damn, woman.” He looked to the pan on the stovetop hopefully—yes, there was a God, because there were two more pieces in there. “Can I—”
The doorbell rang.
Oreo barked and farted.
Zoe rolled her eyes and pushed the dog off her lap. “Wonder who’s here?”
“Oh yeah,” Parker said. “It’s your date.”
She blinked and then her mouth opened in an Oh! of surprise.
Parker stared at her for a beat and then tipped his head back and laughed. He’d been feeling pissy about the date with Joe, and she’d not even remembered. “You really forgot?”
She put her hands on her hips and appeared to fight for words, which gave him a moment to take in the rest of her. Her hair was piled up on her head, but much of it had escaped, brushing her bare shoulders. She was wearing sweat bottoms that were way too big for her, but that was okay because they’d slid dangerously low on her hips, leaving a strip of her stomach bare.