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“Look out.” Oz threw a noodle against the side of the cabinet, purposely missing Blair by inches.
She jumped back, laughing. “What’s that for?”
“Don’t you watch the cooking networks?” Stirring the ladle in the boiling pasta, he grinned.
“Um…no,” Blair denied, eyeing him oddly. “Do you?”
“I’ve watched all kinds of television since moving in with Dr T. Whatever catches his eye, I watch.” Oz sighed melodramatically. “He likes the cooking network. Lucky me.”
“You learned to throw noodles at the cabinets from the cooking network?” Her brow arched suspiciously. “Sounds to me like something a little boy would make up to cover for being naughty.”
He raised his fingers in a scout’s salute and winked. “On my honor. See.” He pointed to where the noodle stuck to the cabinet. “When the noodle sticks, it’s done.”
“Heart surgeon. Babysitter. Noodle thrower,” Blair teased. Her eyes raked over him, then returned to his, searching, asking for answers to who he really was, looking as if she’d like to peel away the layers to see the man beneath. To see the man he never let anyone see. “What other secret talents are you hiding, Dr Manning?”
Oz got the strangest urge to show Blair. To demonstrate every talent he had to the fullest of his capabilities.
Which was crazy.
Wasn’t he just like his father? Didn’t he forever bore with women and move on to the next? He didn’t want commitment or to have a person’s happiness depend upon him. He would never do to a woman what his father had done to his mother. Especially not Blair. She deserved better than a man like him.
“Oz?” Lips parted, she smiled tentatively up at him, her gaze dropping to his mouth.
She wanted him to kiss her.
If only he could without her paying the price.
“Here.” He shoved the Alfredo sauce bowl at her. “Mix this.”
She looked at the bowl. Looking confused, she reached for the sauce. Her fingers collided with his.
Tension sizzled back and forth.
Damn it. He didn’t need this.
Oz pulled back, but only managed to slosh hot water, splattering his finger. He wasn’t sure if the burn was from the water or Blair’s touch. Regardless, he yelped in pain.
“You burned yourself.” She grabbed his hand and marched him the few steps to the sink to run cold water over his fingers.
Treating him like a child, she held his hand under the water for several silent minutes. Oz stared at the intent expression on her face, the concern in her eyes, absorbed the gentleness in her touch when she examined his fingers.
“It may sting for a bit, but it’s only a first-degree burn. You’ll be all right.” She lifted his finger to her mouth and placed a kiss on the burn.
He swallowed. Hard. From the moment he’d met Blair he hadn’t been all right. Not really. She’d always made him unsteady, a bit undeserving, perhaps even a tad rebellious. It was why he’d always brought a woman with him on his trips to visit Dr T. Because he’d been attracted to Blair, but had known that attraction was futile and wouldn’t end well if he acted on it.
He still knew that.
That didn’t keep his body from responding to her tender touch.
She dropped his hand, her gaze meeting his in embarrassment at what she’d done. “Sorry, I—”
Oz didn’t plan his next move, would have denied that he was going to kiss her if someone had asked. But staring into Blair’s eyes, seeing such vivid emotions flash in the green depths, seeing passion—for him—he couldn’t resist, forgot all the reasons he was wrong for Blair. He lowered his head and kissed her full on the mouth, pressing her against the sink.
Damn, she tasted good.
Much better than pasta. Much better than the delicious banana pudding he’d snuck a bite of earlier.
He kissed her until he was breathless. Until she clung to him, kissing him with matching desperation. Until he knew he had to quit or he was going to lift her onto the counter and have her. Right then, right there.
