“Probably not.” He motions me back to the stove. “We’ll worry about it after dinner. Let’s make the sauce.”
“Again, I don’t think you need my help.”
“I don’t.” He reaches over and tugs my arm, pulling me to the stove.
I don’t bother to fight him, though I’m still embarrassed. But I care less about the skillet when he steps up behind me, close enough I can smell him again, and begins explaining the process, using phrases like “deglaze the pan” and “reduce the liquid.”
I only half listen, distracted by the fact his jaw hovers over my shoulder.
“Are you paying attention?” he asks, using his magic to stir the simmering liquid.
“Not really.”
He turns his head, bringing his lips a whisper away from my ear. “Why?”
A pleasant tingle runs the length of my spine when the question tickles my skin, and my magic responds. It fizzles over me like sparkling water, on display yet again.
Ash inhales softly. “You’re distracting.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m here to help you get your business affairs in order,” he reminds me, his words caressing my skin.
“Right.” My stomach clenches violently, my magic unpredictable.
“And we only met a few days ago,” he adds.
Consumed by his nearness and the cool smell of his magic, I swallow. “Are you reminding me or yourself?”
“I don’t know,” he admits, which does not help the sparkling situation. “You’re sure you’re not a spring?”
My heart beats faster. “Pretty sure.”
“I’ve never done this,” he murmurs, moving his hands to my sides, testing us both.
I close my eyes. “You’re good at it for a complete novice.”
Ash chuckles. “Let me rephrase: I’ve never done this after only a few days.”
“Ah…but that’s the kind of thing men who do this sort of thing all the time say.”
“Is it?”
“Mmmhmm.”
“How can I convince you I’m a gentleman?” he asks, his cultured tone turning into a darker rumble.
I turn to face him, thinking. “Perhaps you should fumble a little. Pretend to be clumsy?”
A smirk tugs at his lips, and he meets my eyes. “I’ve never fumbled anything in my life.”
My knees wobble, and I nearly reach for him to keep my balance.
He clears his throat and nods toward the stove. “The sauce is done.”
Right. Dinner.
Swallowing my disappointment, I step aside to gather a couple of plates.
