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“Thank you, Seraphina,” Dusty said. “We’ll be right in.” She grabbed Annie’s arm. “You’re going to love Seraphina’s cooking.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Annie said truthfully. Eating would give her something to do with her hands, which were still shaking and clammy from touching Dallas. She followed Dusty to the dining room and hoped she could get through the meal without any meatballs falling into her lap.
Chapter Two
She was nothing like Chelsea.
Point one in her favor.
She was nothing like Dusty.
Point one against her.
When he filed for divorce, Dallas had decided if he ever got serious with a woman again, she would have to be a fresh-faced country girl like his sister-in-law. Someone who would devote herself to him and their family. A sweet pretty thing who didn’t have a deceptive bone in her body.
Annie DeSimone was clearly a career woman. A career woman with a biting Jersey accent, no less.
So why couldn’t he stop imagining her naked?
Her skin was pale and luminous, the color of moonlight. Her nearly black hair cascaded midway down her back in wavy ringlets, shining with glints of reddish burgundy that couldn’t possibly be natural. Her perfect oval face blushed a creamy rose, and her beautifully formed lips held a natural pucker. And her body…even in her Bohemian skirt and loose peasant blouse, with bracelets rattling everywhere and three piercings in one ear, he could tell her curves were worth exploring.
Still, he had been with his share of beautiful women. What was it about this one?
He nodded his head to himself. It was her eyes. He had never seen anything like them before. Not blue exactly—they were almost violet. Deep amethyst. Like Elizabeth Taylor’s, only more so. Darker and more alluring. Long ebony lashes adorned them, and the left was slightly smaller than the other, making it squint slightly when she smiled. Adorable.
He could drown in those eyes.
Of course, there was also the jolt of electricity he’d felt when their hands touched. Had she felt it too?
Probably not, he decided, as he watched her talk amiably with Dusty. When Seraphina came in to dish up seconds, Annie gushed about the sauce.
“It’s wonderful,” she said. “A lot like my ma’s, but not quite. My ma uses caraway, but I’m thinking you use anise. Am I right?”
“Yes, my mother swore by anise,” Seraphina said. “But she also used caraway from time to time.”
“Have you combined the two?”
“Never have, but I’ve always thought about it.”
“Let’s do it sometime,” Annie said. “We could experiment together.” She took another bite of meatball, swallowed, and continued. “Your meatballs are amazing, too. Beef?”
“One hundred percent McCray raised Colorado beef,” Seraphina said, laughing.
“The best in the nation,” Zach piped in.
“My ma used half-beef, half-veal,” Annie said, “until Pop’s triglycerides went up. Then she switched to half-buffalo, half-veal, since buffalo’s lower in fat. Sometimes, for a treat, she uses lamb.”
“Ah, I’ve never tried that,” Seraphina said. “It sounds good.”
“It is. You need to alter the spices a little though. Less basil and more rosemary. Sometimes she uses a little fresh mint too, if she’s in the mood.” Annie took a sip of her wine and Dallas tried not to stare at her mouth. “When’s your next day off?” she continued. “I’d love to get together and experiment a little.”
“I have Wednesdays and Sundays off,” Seraphina said.
“You can experiment here anytime though
, Annie,” Dusty said. “Zach and I would love to feast on your results.”
“Really? I’d like that.” Annie wiped her lips with her napkin. “I love to cook. I haven’t done anything since I got here except eat Lean Cuisines. I’ve been so busy getting settled and taking care of animals.”
