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ChapterFourteen
Gage stood in front of the island in his kitchen, chopping onions and garlic for his tikka masala. It wasn’t until he’d finished the task that he realized he was humming and smiling like some unhinged idiot.
All because he’d had the less-than-brilliant idea to invite Penny Beaumont to his apartment for a home-cooked meal.
Who the fuck was he?
He’d never—and Gage meantnever—invited a woman back to his place, let alone cooked for her. This penthouse apartment was his inner sanctum, his Batcave, his Fortress of Solitude.
The sun had set just a few minutes ago, which meant Philadelphia was beginning to light up below.
He heard her knock and looked at the clock. She was fifteen minutes late, which meant she was arriving exactly when he’d expected her to. He chuckled, washed his hands, then went to open the door.
Penny, who was never without an excuse, immediately launched into hers, by way of greeting him as she walked in.
“Oh my God, Gage. I’m so sorry I’m late. I couldn’t find my damn keys and then Luna yakked all over the—Jesus Christ.”
Penny stopped just over the threshold and fell silent. He knew his apartment was impressive, with floor-to-ceiling windows that ensured his view was spectacular. He owned the top two floors of a building that overlooked Penn Square.
“This is where you live?”
He took her jacket and felt the irresistible desire to kiss her. But there was a little voice in the back of his head telling him he needed to stop doing that so much. He was pretty much obsessed with her kisses. Time to start dieting—restricting the kisses the same way he would calories.
He would try to reserve the kisses for those times when he was leaving. Always as she lay boneless, replete, sleepy in her double bed while he made a hasty escape.
He tried not to acknowledge the fact that it was getting harder and harder to return to his own bed—alone—each night.
“This is where I live.”
She held up two bottles of wine, one white, one red. “Wasn’t sure what we were having for dinner, so I just brought both.”
Gage took one of the bottles from her. “Come on. I’ll give you a tour and we can drop these off in the kitchen.” He led her through the bottom floor, which consisted of his living room, eat-in kitchen with a balcony, dining room, home office, and gym. He gestured toward a closed door. “That’s the family room, which in my case means gaming room. I’ll show you that after dinner, otherwise we’ll never eat.”
Penny laughed. “Wise decision. Ordinarily, I’d argue, but I can smell whatever it is you’re making and my mouth is already watering.”
“Chicken tikka masala.”
“I’ve never had that.”
“Really?”
“My mom and dad’s cooking was pretty basic and unadventurous, the menu the same thing every week.”
“The same?”
Penny nodded. “Hamburgers on Friday night, alternating lasagna and spaghetti weeks on Saturdays, big pot of soup on Sundays. The weekdays were usually easy stuff since both my parents worked. Dad taught late at the community college on Tuesdays, so Mom dubbed that can night. I always had SpaghettiOs with hot dogs.”
“Of course you did,” Gage said sardonically. “Well, then, I hope you’ll like the masala.”
“Judging by the smell alone, I’d say it’s a safe bet that I will.”
“Maybe you should hold off on that proclamation. I have to confess I haven’t made this particular recipe in…a very long time.”
Since his mother’s death.
The recipe was her favorite, one that the two of them had made together time and time again. Gage couldn’t begin to understand why he’d decided to make it now, or why he wanted to make it for Penny.
Actually, he knew exactly why. But he was playing a game with himself this week called Denial. And while he’d lost to Penny twice in recent weeks, this was a game he couldn’t lose. No matter what. The stakes were too high. Even for him.
