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She jerked her head back to him at his sharp tone and slowly nodded.

“You baked me alfajores? Those were my favorite thing that my mom baked for me and my brother.”

Lainey felt some of the tension draining out of her shoulders. “Oh, so you like them. That’s good. Does your mom make them with dark chocolate or milk chocolate on the outside?”

“She used to make them with dark chocolate.”

“Used to?”

“She passed away a while back.”

“So, it’s just you and your brother?”

Matt said nothing for a moment, then finally he shook his head. “No, he died in his early twenties. It’s just me.”

Shoot!

He must have seen her look of dismay because he started talking again.

“I can’t wait to taste your baking. I hope you have more jewelry to put on than just earrings,” he teased.

“Why don’t you sit up on the barstool at the island, and I’ll serve you up two cookies. What would you like to drink with them?”

“Do you have milk?”

Lainey bit her lip. He looked all muscley and fit. He probably drank some milk substitute or non-fat milk. “I only have whole milk.”

“Perfect. That’s the only thing you should drink with alfajores as far as I’m concerned. Are you going to join me?”

“I’ll have half of one. I did a taste test on two earlier.” She grinned. “I had to make sure I wasn’t poisoning you. But first, let me finish getting ready.”

“Take your time.”

He watched as she walked down the hall. She looked damn fine.

He hadn’t been giving her a line when he told her that she looked beautiful, because she definitely did.

Mateo looked at the Argentine cookie on his plate. It looked good, but he didn’t have high hopes. Rarely did people in America get it right. He was glad that Lainey was down the hall when he took his first bite. That way he didn’t have to mask his reaction.

As the cookie got close to his mouth, the smell of the dark chocolate hit his nose and he smiled. But he kept his glass of milk close at hand and took a small bite. The two soft, buttery cookies covered in chocolate crumbled in his mouth and brought back memories of his childhood. He put his hand under his chin, so that he didn’t make a mess, then the dulce de leche layered between the cookies burst across his tastebuds, and he groaned.

So good.

So, fucking good.

He chewed slowly, savoring the flavors that mirrored his childhood, but the experience was over far too fast. He took a bigger bite, downing half the cookie, and forced down another moan of pleasure, but this was right on up there with an orgasm.

Again, he chewed slowly, his eyes closed. He didn’t set down the cookie, instead he finished off that last bite, content knowing there was another on his plate and more to take home.

He heard a soft laugh beside him. It had a hint of music in it.

He looked sideways. “You caught me.”

“You’re looking like I imagined I looked yesterday and today. Those things are addictive. I had to get them out of my house yesterday really fast.”

He tilted his head, and she answered his unasked question.

“I did a trial run yesterday. They were eighty-five percent right. Not like today’s batch. Today is at about ninety-five percent. Yesterday’s cookie wasn’t as crumbly. But it didn’t stop me from sampling a few. After all, I had to figure out what was wrong, didn’t I?”