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The assured smile had her breath backing up in her lungs, as he settled his hands on her hips. ‘It’s not my fault you look so hot icing cupcakes. What can I say, you inspire me.’
‘I can only imagine.’ Given how inspired Luke had been last night, she could imagine quite a lot. ‘But I think we should eat first, before we deal with your cupcake fantasies.’
His hands dropped away. ‘Fine, but I plan to hold you to that. Do you need anything?’
A backbone would be good, she thought miserably. She was doing the right thing. The safe thing, not just for the kids, but for herself as well.
Tell him, no wimping out allowed.
‘Could you hunt up a frying pan?’ she said, totally wimping out.
‘OK, but be aware you’re only going to be fuelling my fantasies while you do that.’
Fabulous, just what I needed to know.
A large heavy-based pan plopped onto the stove as she rinsed the blueberries.
‘Anything else that needs doing?’
Apart from me, you mean.
‘Could you make some coffee?’ Maybe if he wasn’t hovering right beside her elbow, exuding those drive-Halle-crazy pheromones, it would help with her focus.
‘All right, you’re the boss.’
Was she? She didn’t think so, as she watched him get the coffee under way. His competence with the coffee machine reminding her of how competent he was with so much else.
The luxurious sizzle of melting butter filled the kitchen as she dropped the first dollop of batter onto the hot pan. She inhaled the aroma and watched the edges crisp—determined to get her mind out of her knickers.
It didn’t take long to get in the zone. Cooking had once been her great escape from the chaos of life in a two-room council flat in a Hackney high-rise with a young child and no money. Creating something delicious within the exacting confines of science and her stringent budget had helped
her to focus during the biggest challenges of her life. While blueberry pancakes hardly tested her abilities and she had no budget now, the simplicity of the process, and the comforting aroma of fried fruit and batter that filled the kitchen, helped her to focus again now, and get her priorities straight.
This time with Luke had been an adventure. An adventure she never would have expected. It had healed stuff she hadn’t even realised was still broken. But it wasn’t her real life.
Her real life was with her children. Who needed her now.
Luke worked alongside her, setting the table, frothing some milk for her latte with that infernal machine and digging the maple syrup out of the box of supplies she’d brought back from the restaurant kitchen.
She flipped the last of the pancakes onto the plate she had warming, decorated the stack with the remaining blueberries and carried the plate to the table.
He placed a steaming latte by her elbow and sat opposite her. Forking one of the pancakes off the stack, he poured a generous dollop of syrup over it.
She watched him take his first bite, the nerves finally settling in the pit of her stomach, when he gave a rumbling hum of approval.
‘Incredible. They taste better than the resort’s ones. What did you do?’
‘I added a splash of vanilla essence, to lift the flavour of the blueberries. And used buttermilk and melted butter in the batter.’
‘Genius.’ He quartered the rest of the pancake. As he set about demolishing it in a few bites, it occurred to her how much she had always adored feeding him.
‘Listen, Luke, I wanted to let you know how glad I am you blackmailed me into this.’ She poured syrup over her own pancake. ‘Everything that’s happened in the past ten days has been a … well, “surprise” is way too mild a word. I’ve been stubborn and resistant to change and I should never have shut you out for so long, for Lizzie’s sake. And I regret that now. I’ve also discovered I can survive white-water kayaking, which is pretty phenomenal, too.’
His next forkful of pancake stopped in mid-air. ‘Why am I getting a sense there’s a “but” coming?’
Luke had always been smart.
‘The but is, I’m afraid I’ll have to head home sooner than expected. I’ve booked a cab to take me back to Atlanta tonight.’
