Page 49 of A Tempting Seduction

Yeah, but Ford was different.

We’re just friends. I argued with myself. And anyway, I was just wearing cotton underwear, no lace. So there.

No sexy underwear meant no sex. No sex meant I didn’t trust him. No trust meant I wasn’t in love with him. Easy, breezy, it all made sense now.

The timer for the sauce chimed, and I turned my attention back to the meal. The enchiladas needed to go in the oven, and the tamales needed to start steaming. I moved through my kitchen with growing confidence, tasting and adjusting seasonings, arranging serving dishes, setting the table with fresh flowers and the good candles I'd been saving for a special occasion.

By six-thirty, the entire house smelled like cumin and cilantro and hopefully not insecurity. The tres leches cake sat cooling in the refrigerator, the enchiladas were bubbling perfectly in the oven, and everything else was ready to be served.

I checked my reflection in the bathroom mirror one more time. The dress looked great, my hair had cooperated for once, and the light makeup I'd applied brought out the green in my eyes without looking overdone.

I was ready.

The doorbell rang at exactly seven o'clock, sending my heart jumping into my throat.

Trust yourself to know what you're worth.

I went and opened the door.

There he was. Goodness, he looked good.

I should have worn lace panties.

Chapter Ten

Ruby disappeared into the kitchen, and I took a moment to watch the way her hips swayed in that navy dress. The soft fabric moved with her body like it had been designed specifically for her curves. Goodness, when she'd opened the door tonight, I'd nearly been knocked flat again. The woman was absolutely stunning.

Carrie's words echoed in my head for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. When the right woman comes along, she'll knock you flat on your rear and you won't know what hit you.

My sister was a prophet.

I stood up and started clearing the dinner plates, stacking them carefully to make room for whatever dessert Ruby had planned. The meal had been incredible. Every single bite proved that Ruby Miller had skills that went way beyond making coffee. The woman could cook like a dream.

“Are you sure you don't need my help?” I called toward the kitchen.

“I've got it all under control,” Ruby's voice floated back, warm with contentment.

I smiled and continued clearing the table. The intimate dinner had been perfect. Better than perfect. The way Ruby had laughed at my stories about Walker and me getting into trouble as kids. The comfortable silences between courses. The way she'd actually relaxed and let me see glimpses of the woman behind all those careful walls she normally kept up.

Ruby returned carrying what looked like heaven on a plate. The tres leches cake was pristine white, soaked in cream and topped with fresh berries. She set it down in the center of the table with obvious pride.

“This looks incredible,” I said, settling back into my chair. “Did you really make this from scratch?”

“Every last bit.” Ruby cut two generous slices and slid one across to me. “The chef at the restaurant where I worked said tres leches was all about patience. You have to let the cake absorb the milk mixture slowly, overnight if possible.”

I took a bite and nearly groaned with pleasure. The cake was moist and sweet but not cloying, with layers of flavor that developed on my tongue. Rich cream balanced perfectly with vanilla and a hint of cinnamon.

“Ruby, this is restaurant quality.” I took another bite, savoring the texture. “Have you ever thought about opening your own Mexican restaurant?”

Pink flooded her cheeks, and she shook her head quickly.

“No way. I'm happy where I am.”

“Why not? You've got the skills. Tonight's meal could compete with any restaurant in Nashville.”

Ruby shifted uncomfortably in her seat, focusing on her cake instead of meeting my eyes.

“I don't want that much attention.”