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“Oh,” she replied archly, “is that what you were thinking?”
“What else?”
She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, but he kept his expression angelic.
“What if I were to tell you that I put dinner in the oven before we left?”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re implying,” he said.
“No?”
He shook his head.
“Oh, fine. You win. I’ll pretend you don’t think me an absolute disaster in the kitchen.”
“Lovely.”
Kate laughed, and God, but it was a gorgeous sound. Aidan tried not to imagine the idiotic grin on his face as he stepped back into town.
She wasn’t sending him away. He’d see her again in an hour. Less than that. And he didn’t plan to bring only dinner. He’d purchased a chess set that morning from a shop near the dock. It was winter, after all, and far too cold to spend every day touring the town. But chess . . . a single game could take hours. Hours spent inside, together, in front of a warm fire.
The gray sky suddenly seemed bright as summertime.
It was dark in the alley when she opened the door to his knock. A tingle of danger spread down her belly as she stepped aside to let Aidan in. If anyone saw him entering . . .
But Aidan smiled the smile of a pleased child and held up the basket.
“Is that roast chicken I smell?”
“Perhaps.” He shifted the basket away from her reaching hands and inclined his head toward the stairway. Kate led the way eagerly, her mouth watering at the smell. She had no doubt it’d be the best meal she’d had in weeks.
Aidan was immediately busy with laying out the meal. He’d brought everything, as far as she could tell—food, plates, silverware, napkins, even wine and glasses. The bounty quickly overwhelmed her small table. As she craned her neck to see past him to the feast, his broad shoulders shifted toward her and he handed her a glass of wine.
“Is this a celebration?”
His eyebrows rose in surprise before he smiled warmly at her. “No, but I suppose it should be.” He touched his glass lightly to hers. “To you. To our renewed friendship. To our continued success in business endeavors. To the simple fact that we are both alive.”
“Yes,” she replied softly, unable to tear her eyes from his gaze. He still smiled, but his eyes turned serious—intense and unwavering. He raised a glass to his mouth and she did the same, mirroring his movements. The sweet, sensual taste of the wine filled her mouth like summer fruit.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s gorgeous.”
“Yes,” he murmured, green eyes suddenly hot as they moved over her face.
Blinking hard, she stepped past him to take a seat at the table, intent on ignoring the knot that formed low in her belly. The moment passed unacknowledged, and they settled into the meal, finishing the bottle of wine long before starting dessert. Tired and full, they both subsided into silent contemplation of their wineglasses.
“What are you thinking?”
Kate blinked and shook her head to clear the cobwebs—the wine, actually—from her head. “Nothing. Why?”
“I just want to know. You must be someone different now. We were so young. You must have scars and memories.”
A sudden constriction tightened her chest. Was it possible he really did see her? Her hand drifted to her cheek, to that small scar high on the bone. The playful light in his eyes faded to puzzlement as they followed the movement. His own hand rose to hover over hers for a moment before he brushed her fingers aside and set the lightest of touches against her skin.
“What is this?”
She shivered at his soft touch, at the low rumble of his voice. “Nothing.”
