Page 35 of The Contract Marriage

Olivia blinks. “Wow. So…did I pass the test?”

“With flying colors. He likes you.” He’d like any woman who can make one of us brothers happy. Unlike Grandmother, who mainly cares about how blue the bloodline is.

Olivia smiles. “Good. I like him too. He seems very grounded. So did you make any of the items on the table?”

“Nope. Safer that way. Apparently, my cooking isn’t fit for human consumption. I say it can’t be harder than turning boring carbon into pretty diamonds in the lab, but everyone disagrees.” I give her a mock pout.

She chuckles, the sound surprisingly relaxed and triumphant…then suddenly stops. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re…thinking about something deep.” She narrows her eyes. “Are you plotting something behind my back?” Her voice is teasing, but her eyes are a little too focused.

“No.” I laugh. “I was thinking about that time back in college when our model crashed. You remember? The one we made for the AT&T project?”

She makes a face. “Oh my God, don’t remind me. That was horrible. If we hadn’t been able to recover the data, I might’ve sued Microsoft.”

“I would’ve joined you and called Jeremiah.”

She laughs. “Lucky them, our models never crashed again.”

“Can’t have those engineers get in the way of getting an A.”

“Nope. I’m glad none of the other projects we did together suffered midnight crashes.” She grins, then looks down at the Rubedo on her finger. “Anyway, don’t let a lack of culinary skill drag you down. Your diamonds are stunning.”

“I also look awesome flexing my forearms while serving food.” I turn my cuffs up and flex for her benefit.

Interest glints in her eyes.

“Ten out of ten?”

“Do that again. In case I missed something.”

Laughing, I flex and move my arms so she can see them better.

“Yup, ten out of ten.” Her eyes sparkle with good humor. “That more than makes up for the lack of cooking skills.”

“Thought so.” I grin.

Her answering bright smile hits me square in my heart like another of Cupid’s arrows. My mind goes blank.

She takes a bite of the sea bream. Her eyes light up with approval. “Wow. Frederich’s cooking is up there, too.”

“The man is gifted.”

“Mmm.” She sighs wistfully.

“What is it?”

“Trying to think of the last time I was treated to such a brilliantly put-together homey dinner.”

“You didn’t have one after…you know,” I say, trying to be circumspect about her pain.

She laughs wistfully. “You can say ‘after your mother passed away.’ I’m not that fragile.” She sniffs. “Deena isn’t exactly the most thoughtful person, to put it mildly. She served deviled eggs and Korean mandu at the latest formal brunch at the Whitmore house.”

My jaw slackens. “What?”

“I know, right? She was so proud. And she loves to serve sparkling water in champagne flutes. Says it ‘elevates’ them. With just a single cube of ice to keep them chilled, of course.”