Page 50 of Twisted Beauty

Matt stood up and tossed the spatula into the sink and grabbed a clean one from a utensil caddy on the counter. After he wiped up the spill, he shot her a look of disapproval but wound up laughing too. “I hope you like eggs. I’m making mushroom and bacon frittatas.”

“Sounds delicious. Please tell me you have coffee too.” If not, she might have to panic. Of all the things that had happened to her in the last few months, being stranded without caffeine was the most terrifying.

“Help yourself. That white mug is yours.” Matt gestured toward the corner of the counter where a French press was filled with steaming coffee, half hidden behind a large, gleaming espresso maker.

Relief flooded through her. “You’re my hero.”

Liv filled her cup and drank, savoring the flavor. She took a minute to study the shiny espresso maker on the counter. “That’s a fancy machine. Doesn’t look like you’ve ever used it.”

“I haven’t. It was a gift from my kitchen staff when I left Chez Claude. I’m a chef, not a barista. I’d probably burn the place down.”

“I’d pay to see that.” She poked around the machine a bit. “How would you feel about letting me try?”

“To burn down my house? Maybe after breakfast. The eggs are just about ready, so have a seat.” He stepped out of the kitchen briefly, just long enough to disappear into the laundry room and come back wearing a freshly laundered t-shirt. She felt a stab of disappointment.

Liv sat down at a dining table that straddled the kitchen and living room. It was a solid slab of polished wood, long and narrow, and already set for breakfast with cloth napkins, utensils and two tall glasses of orange juice. Matt leaned over her to set a plate down, and then again to crumble fresh goat cheese over the eggs.

He smelled delicious, a mix of aftershave and soap and all man. He was so close.

So. Close.

If she just lifted her head slightly, she could touch her lips to the pulse strumming at the base of his neck.

Would he pull away if she did? She didn’t have beer as an excuse for her behavior this time. But delirium from lack of sleep? That would be close enough to the truth, though not exactly something she was ready to admit.

Fortunately he straightened up before she did anything irrevocably stupid. He went back to the stovetop to grab his own plate.

“Wow, this is a beautiful presentation,” Liv said, finally noticing the food once he left her personal space and she could breathe again. Her meal looked like it belonged on the cover of some foodie magazine. A triangular slice of frittata sat in the center of the plate, surrounded by cooked spinach, wedges of red potato, and a drizzle of something red along the edges. “You mind if I take a quick photo before we eat?”

“Yes, I mind. It’ll get cold.” His voice was crisp and decisive.

“But—”

“Just eat, Liv.”

“Are you always this bossy?” She pushed her chair back from the table and stood up. “I’ll be fast. I just have to grab my camera.”

Matt sighed. “I’ll make you a deal. Sit down and eat while it’s hot, and I’ll set up another dish just like it while you’re busy screwing around with my espresso machine.”

Screwing around. Why did that sound so tempting?

“Deal.” Liv scooted her chair back to the table. “Thank you. I really do appreciate this. It’s just so perfect I hate to ruin it.”

She took a bite of frittata and moaned. “Oh my god.”

Her eyes fluttered closed and she forgot why she wanted to leave the table in the first place. These had to be the most amazing eggs she’d ever tasted, with a burst of flavors she couldn’t name, probably spices she’d never even heard of. She chewed for a little longer than necessary, savoring every last bit, and swallowed.

When she finally opened her eyes, Matt was staring at her mouth with that same fleeting look of heat in his eyes she’d seen once or twice since the storm hit. After she licked the spice off her lips, his gaze flickered up to meet hers.

“It’ll be tough going back to my morning oatmeal after this,” she said.

Matt flashed her a genuine smile, which took his face from handsome to completely devastating. If she made it through the meal without drooling, it would be a small miracle.

They ate in silence after that, and when she finally scraped her plate clean she sat back in her chair. “If all your food is this good, you really have some mad chef skills.”

A flicker of sadness crossed Matt’s face but he covered it up quickly. He leaned back into his chair and gave a small shrug. “I learned from the best.”

“The best?”