Somewhat self-conscious, she topped her outfit with a long, loose tee, as though obscuring more of her upper body made up for her naked legs. Pretending a confidence she didn’t feel, she strode downstairs. Jase didn’t seem to notice the shorts, but then, he’d seen her in a lot less. However, he did compliment the oversized shirt.
“Gives me easier access,” he said, running his hand up under it and snapping her bra, then drawing her close for a good-morning kiss.
He released her to pick up a manila folder from the table. “I’ll be out most of the day looking at properties Craig Freiberg has located for me. Probably won’t be in till about six, but put on your glad rags. We’ll be dining with the elite tonight.”
Laurel nearly choked. The elite were exactly whom she didn’t want to meet.
“No way, guy,” she said, trying for sultry. Standing tall and swaying against him, she moved her hand over a very sensitive part of his anatomy. “I have a special evening planned for you here at the house tonight, and I don’t think we want an audience.”
“I’ll take a preview,” he said, bending her backward over his arm and kissing her so thoroughly that she started wondering about the possibilities of the kitchen table.
He released her abruptly and stepped back. “If I didn’t already have a hot date with old Mrs. Anderson…”
He winked and was out the door before her passion-addled brain could register what was happening. Weak at the knees, she sat back down at the table. Gradually her last words to him permeated her brain.
“A special evening”—where had that line come from? What was she going to do? She’d implied some sort of outrageous sexual escapade, but what could she think of that would even begin to top what had already happened on the drawing room floor? Sarah had told her about a movie she saw in which a woman painted herself with chocolate sauce for her lover to lick off, but Laurel didn’t think she was up to anything like that.
And she’d never get the chocolate out of the sheets.
Let the sex take care of itself, she decided. Everything had worked out fine in that department so far. She felt the heat rise in her cheeks.
More to the point, what could she feed him? Judging from last night, there was more to cooking than literacy. She stared around the kitchen, hoping inspiration would strike, but none obliged. Only one recourse: She grabbed her keys and headed off to Piggly Wiggly to throw herself on the mercy of the precooked foods aisle again.
Various menus ran through her head as she drove down the street. She’d already served beef, and she was obviously no good with chicken. Barbecue was too messy, and fish scared her. Pork? Didn’t seem sexy enough. Maybe a vegetarian feast—but somehow she didn’t think Jase was the type of man who’d appreciate a meatless meal.
She raced into the store at full throttle, not caring who might see Reverend Ed’s daughter in shorts. The important thing was to get in and out in enough time to make preparations for the erotic evening she’d promised. She’d open up the dining room again and set out candles. The Limoges wouldn’t work, though—the Haviland pattern was too old-fashioned. Nor would Mrs. Claypool’s brightly painted crockery. How about glass plates? They were cheap enough, and sort of sexy, especially dressed up with a white tablecloth, white napkins, the heavy silver, and good crystal.
What did it matter? She’d probably screw it up. The only thing she could handle was frozen dinners.
Frozen dinners…Gourmet frozen dinners!
She trundled her cart out of the precooked food area and over to the refrigerated displays.
Shrimp! She bet he’d like shrimp—and she could get three of the dinners to be sure there was enough food for him.
With a sigh of relief, she tossed the dinners in her cart, picking up a set of four glass plates as she headed toward the checkouts. Right in front of her stood an artistic display of wines. She couldn’t tell one vintage from another—that wasn’t something one learned in the household of a small-town central Texas Bible Belt preacher—but that deep red was a pretty color.
Why not? Without even looking around to see who might be watching, she seized a bottle and stuck it in her cart.
Chapter Thirteen
I stink like hell,” Jase said, wiping the sweat off his forehead as he came through the back door. “Been checking out available land from here to Waco and back.” He slapped his hat down on the table and glanced around the kitchen, then at the table, innocent of all but a napkin holder. “What about dinner?”
Laurel never would have guessed she’d be so turned on by the stench of honest labor. Her first impulse was to yell “catch me, catch me,” then take off up the stairs with Jase in hot pursuit. Instead, she pulled the cloth belt of her terry cloth robe tighter and frowned at him.
“Go take a shower in the bedroom across the hall, then give me twenty minutes. We’re eating in the dining room tonight.”
He paused, looking her terry cloth robe up and down. His voice lowered to a growl. “I hope you don’t have anything on under that.”
She smiled like a woman with a secret. “You’ll never find out.”
He wrapped her in his arms. “Until later, then.”