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Jan couldn’t hide the pride at his words. She felt a warmth spread through her, both culinary and feminine, at the sounds of his compliments.
Alex downed the last piece of pie, pulling the fork tines slowly from his mouth. Jan had to avert her gaze. But the sight was emblazoned in her mind. She knew what those lips felt like against hers. Alex had kissed her once before.
The kiss had meant nothing. It had been spontaneous, a congratulatory kiss after they’d won the Annual Cordovian Union Day Pie Making contest. He had likely forgotten about it. Probably had never thought twice about it. Jan wished she could say the same.
She couldn’t. She still vividly remembered the press of his lower lip into her upper lip. The brush of his upper lip against her nose as he pulled away. The taste of his breath, cherries and black peppercorn, lingered for hours, days after. Probably because she kept making recipes with the two ingredients to keep the memory alive.
“That was a great start,” Alex said. “Now what’s for dinner?”
“You want more?”
Of course, he did. He’d been ravenous for her food since the day he’d walked into her pie shop and ordered a slice of each of the national pies she’d made for UN Day, and subsequently eaten them all. In Cordoba, he’d eaten his way through the high street showing her the country’s exotic spices. Through all of that, he hadn’t gained a single pound. Men.
“That only whet my appetite,” he said. “I’m a man. I need meat. What do you have in here?”
He slid off his chair and reached for the handle of her small fridge. Everything seemed small in her apartment with Alex in there. The place was a study in efficiency. Her full bed took up most of the space. She’d brought up two bar stools to sit around the kitchen counter in lieu of a dining set.
She rarely had people over, so she didn’t see the point. She spent most of her time downstairs in the kitchen. Her apartment was only meant for sleep. But now a prince squeezed his form around her and angled for her fridge.
Jan swatted at his hand. “Hey, you can’t just go into a woman’s fridge. It’s private.”
Alex lifted a single brow which would’ve been devastating if she was attracted to him. Which she wasn’t. Despite herself, she liked Alex.
Only as a fellow foodie. He loved to try new foods. He had an adventurous palate. And he loved anything that came out of her oven.
But he was not relationship material. Just as his palate was open to trying anything new, so were his arms. She’d read the tabloids. She’d even seen him in action back in Cordoba. Women threw themselves at the Prince of Cordoba. Men walked away from a girl like Jan.
Jan understood Alex’s draw. He was rich, handsome, and oozing charm. He was also the type of man that had no incentive for settling down.
Not that Jan wanted to settle down. She’d tried it once. Being left at the altar had been enough for her to never put that much faith in a person again.
“Most women are dying to let me into their cupboards, Chef Peppers.”
“Not this one, your royal highness.”
He cringed. Jan had noted in their short time together that Alex hadn’t preferred to be addressed formally. He had little interest in his royal duties unless they involved a meal.
“Personally,” Jan continued, wanting to recapture the light mood of a moment ago, “I need at least an hour of prep time before I’m ready.”
Alex let go of the handle and bent forward with laughter. When he straightened, there were tears in his eyes.
Jan wasn’t sure where the quip had come from. She was a terrible flirt. But Alex had a knack for making everything a bit dirty.
When his laughter died down, he ignored her warning about her fridge and pulled the box open. Before she could stop him, he began pulling out ingredients.
“Sit,” he commanded. “You made the appetizer. I’ll make dinner.”
Those were words Jan was not used to hearing. She sat back on her stool and watched as Alex cooked for her. She knew he had some skills in the kitchen. He’d helped her prep for the pie making contest. Not just with the chopping and dicing. They’d come up with the winning recipe together. That win had been as much his as it had been hers.
What he pulled out of her small oven twenty minutes later smelled delightful. It tasted even better. Jan had the urge to moan and slam her own hand down on the counter.
“I’m stuffed.” She threw down her fork, wishing she could unzip the back of her dress to give her belly the needed space.
“You have to admit it was a great pairing with the pie.”
Alex had made pigs in a blanket with crescent rolls and a pack of Oscar Mayer wieners. Inside the rolls, he’d wrapped the wieners in ricotta cheese and sprinkled them with apple cider vinegar. On the side, he’d made a hash of carrots and potatoes seasoned with Old Bay crab mix.
Jan forgot her manners and licked the salty seasonings from her fingertips. Alex grinned at her machinations. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He slung the dish rag from hand to hand as he took careful steps toward her.
