Page 87 of Something Borrowed

Cal grinned. “Pizza.”

“What? Really? That’s awesome!”

He shook his head. “No, totally joking.” His voice held a note of wonder. “The craziest thing is, I really think you wouldn’t mind if it was pizza.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t.”

“Pizza on fine China?”

“Absolutely.”

Cal grinned. “Well, I hope you won’t be disappointed by what I am making.”

Vic smiled. “I’m starting to believe I couldn’t be disappointed by anything you do.”

“Well, let’s hope that’s true—and let me start off by getting you a drink and popping our appetizers in the oven. I thought we could nibble a bit and then I’ll put our main in later”

“Our main? Oolala.”

“That’s right, I’m getting fancy. You’ve been warned.”

And it was fancy. But also, simple. And utterly perfect.

Cal had premade everything, so it just had to be popped into the oven at various times.

They had plump scallops wrapped in bacon and tender-crisp asparagus spears twined in prosciutto with a lovely sparkling apple juice. The sweet, tart, bubbly juice paired perfectly with the savory, rich, delectable morsels.

“Do you drink alcohol at all?” Vic asked.

“Occasionally. And even more occasionally, I sometimes even overindulge, but yeah, I’m careful about alcohol.”

“I like that,” Vic said.

“I bought us a nice bottle of Champagne for midnight, though—and I have a bottle of red, too, for with dinner if you’d like.”

“What are you having?”

“Pomegranate juice,” Cal admitted.

“That sounds great.” And it was indeed great, a perfect complement to the buttery, garlic-infused, melt-in-her-mouth, oven-roasted ribeye steak, baby potatoes, and tossed salad in vinaigrette that Cal had prepared.

By the time Cal brought out dessert, the candles were burned halfway down, and Vic was so full of laughter and conversation on top of the delicious meal that she was sure she couldn’t eat another bite. But then she saw the Chocolate Pots de Crème in adorable individual ramekins and realized she did have space, after all.

That was the thing with Cal, she mused, sipping the fragrant, dark coffee he’d made to go with their decadent desserts, then licking her spoon, not wanting one drop of the chocolatey goodness to be wasted. He made her feel expansive, never small.

They moved to the living room after their meal, and Cal lit a trio of candles on the low coffee table. Then he tucked a blanket around her and sat close—though not quite close enough for Vic’s liking. She leaned into him, and he responded immediately, lifting his arm so she could snuggle in. It was strange for her—and somehow really erotic—to take the physical side of the relationship slowly. He leaned in and kissed her neck just below her ear. She shivered, hard.

“You make me . . . I don’t know. All my nerve endings are just so . . . hyper aware of you.” It’s the only way she could think to express.

“I know,” he said, kissing her again in the same spot, then dropping soft petals of kisses down the side of her neck all the way to her clavicle. “That’s how I feel too.”

In response, she brushed her lips against his, and when his mouth opened to hers, she tugged—ever so gently—on his lip with her teeth. He inhaled sharply and she knew he was being truthful. He did feel it too.

Breathless and heady with the rush of endorphins he sent rioting through her, Vic leaned back slightly and ran her hand down the side of his face. Before they went further, she wanted him to know, really know, what she was like—and then if he still wanted to be with her, it would tell her something. She wasn’t—and nothing could be a bigger shock to her—going to try to hide her flaws anymore or twist herself into a pretzel trying to be someone that someone else wanted.

“What is it?” he asked, voice low and soft.

“There are some things about myself I need to tell you, some things I’ve done . . . I don’t want secrets between us. I want to be fully known and accepted or to be alone.”