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A knock on her door brought her head back down and her eyes open.
Frowning, she got to her feet. She already knew it was Daniel. Didn’t he understand rejection? Sighing heavily, she walked at a sluggish speed over to the door, peered through her peephole and saw him standing on the opposite side of her threshold carrying a slow cooker.
She couldn’t stop the grin that made an automatic appearance. Gosh, he could be so sweet. Unlocking the door, she then opened it and arched her brow at him.
He had changed from his office attire and was wearing a clean-cut pair of loose jeans along with a royal blue jersey. Looking sheepish, he nodded to the food and said, “I hate to see a good meal go to waste.”
She stared at him for the longest time while many thoughts raced through her head. Beginning with the fact that Daniel Keller was probably the world’s nicest guy, most forgiving friend, a very convenient shoulder to cry on, then finally but not necessarily the least, that he looked damn sexy in royal blue.
Pulling the door wide, she allowed him to enter. As he did he kicked off his shoes and brushed past her, his eyes sliding with interest to his leather jacket she still wore, but refrained from commenting.
“Is it hot?” She motioned toward the slow cooker.
He nodded then placed it in the center of her table. “Ready to eat.”
When he raised the lid the delicious aroma of warm stew drifted into her apartment. Sonya hadn’t realized how hungry she was until her stomach let out a grumble. He heard and offered her a smile. “Tuna salad still not sitting well?”
Puzzled, she stared at him. Then she remembered their conversation at the deli and gave a short absent nod before pulling out a chair to drop down into it. “It smells wonderful.”
“It tastes wonderful as well.” He glanced at the glass in her hand then back to her face. Though she saw the question in his eyes, he turned toward the kitchenette and asked, “Where do you keep your plates?”
“Last cupboard.” As she watched him, she drew her legs up under her knees and pulled the hem of his coat around them. She had to admit, it felt nice having someone serve her.
He returned with two bright yellow plates. After filling them, he han
ded her the one first then sat down in the opposite chair and began delving into his meal.
Sonya simply watched him. He sat straight and proper in his chair with his back erect and his legs flat on the floor. One arm was tucked under the table while the other scooped up a forkful of steaming beef and vegetables before he delivered it to his mouth.
His lips moved in a precise manner as he chewed his food slowly, his jaw flexed as he rolled the meal around in his mouth before swallowing. Her gaze was transfixed as she watched him run his tongue along his mouth to gather the last trace of food. Then he began the process all over again.
He looked up all of a sudden and caught her attention focused on him. He frowned then pointed to her plate. “Eat up while it’s still hot.”
Nodding, she reached up and began to unzip his coat.
“Leave it on if you’re cold.” He surprised her by saying.
She shook her head. “I don’t want to get it dirty.”
“Suit yourself.” He turned his attention back to his meal.
While Sonya turned hers back to watch him. Reluctantly, she withdrew her arms out of the warm embrace of his coat and laid it across the back of her sofa, giving the soft material a final touch before returning to the table.
As she sat there staring at him as he ate without a care in the world, gave Sonya a queer feeling in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know why other than it just felt so homey and comfortable and he looked so relaxed and happy. At last, she picked up her fork and took her first taste. It was as delicious as it smelled.
“Well?” he inquired.
“It’s very good.” She smiled then took another taste. “I didn’t know you were such a good cook.”
“One gets tired of frozen dinners after consuming an unhealthy quantity of them.” He motioned toward the bottle of wine on the table. “Did you want some more?”
Noticing her nearly empty glass, she nodded.
After giving her a refill, he asked, “Mind if I help myself?”
“Of course not.” After all, she had bought the two bottles. There should be plenty to go around and some left over after he left.
He got a wineglass down from her cupboard, opting not to choose the tumbler such as herself, then poured himself a glass. Holding it up, he looked across at her and said, “Shall we make a toast.”
