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“Ah! I think I’ll be there. I got a text about a nine o’clock meeting. Congratulations and welcome aboard SAMF and my helicopter.”
Delighted with her good news, she grinned. “I’d better start cooking if we want to eat in the coming days.”
“Okay, I’ll try to make myself useful.”
Arianna got to work, browning the ground meat with onions and spices, slicing eggplants and zucchinis, cutting cauliflower into small florets, scrambling eggs, mixing flour and milk...
Arm crossed over his chest, he watched her with a smile. “Where did you learn to cook so efficiently?”
She shrugged. “It’s a long story.”
“I would love to hear it. We have plenty of time. I’m off today, and you haven’t started your new job yet.”
“It goes back to the time when I lived with my grandmother. I was fourteen and still in high school, but her employers’ neighbors asked if I could babysit their kids after school—adorable five-year-old twin girls. It was a pleasure taking care of them and playing with them. I got to eat dinner there. The food was delicious and the cook amazing, but she always grumbled that she had too much to do and needed help. The lady of the house asked if I could help Cook on Saturdays and Sundays. I agreed to right away. More money for me.”
“Cook gave you her recipes?”
“Are you kidding? Never.” Arianna laughed at the memory of the grouchy cook. “I pretended I’d heard wrong and would ask if I should add such and such spices. She would yell and warn me not to mess up the cooking. So every day before starting, she would write out a short list of ingredients and say, ‘Just add these’. That’s how I learned to prepare so many dishes over the three years I helped her. I would go home and write them down for Abuela who often cooked for us. I still have her recipe notebook.”
Standing beside her, Rafael roared with laughter. “You sure know how to work your way around difficult circumstances.”
“It’s called survival. I’m an expert at squeezing out of impossible situations.”
While she cooked, he offered his services to turn on a stove, move a pan into or out of the oven, and of course taste the finished product.
Two hours later, Arianna appraised her work. “We have meals for the next five days. It’s easier to cook several dishes at the same time and freeze them.” She checked on the pans. “All done.”
“I’ll take them out.”
“All right. Leave the pans on the counter.”
“You go relax on the balcony. I’ll fix us a drink, and we’ll enjoy happy hour in the fresh air. Is a whiskey sour okay? I bought a bottle of the premixed cocktail this morning.”
“Love it. You’re spoiling me.”
“We’ll spoil each other.”
She stopped by the bathroom, pulled out the elastic band holding her ponytail, and brushed her hair down her back. Except for an inch-long eyeliner pencil she’d found in the nurses’ lounge, she didn’t own any makeup, a useless expenditure for someone determined to save every penny to buy a house in a decent area.
On the balcony, she settled in the armchair and surveyed the view that was becoming her favorite, while Rafael prepared the drinks. He brought two glasses and handed her one.
“Cheers, to your new job and new living quarters.” He clinked his glass against hers.
“To many safe trips in your copter, Captain Lopez.” She jumped to her feet and raised her glass high toward the sky.
“No captain here.” His lips stretched into a one-sided smile.“Just Rafael, your neighbor and friend.”
“Friend?” She tossed him a glance and tilted her head. “You’ve helped me so much since we’ve met, and you’ve brought me good luck, Rafael.” She set her glass on the small table and braced her hands on his shoulders, leaning toward him. “Maybe that’s what they call friends.”
Their gazes met, his reminding her of dark, hot, liquid chocolate. If she could believe in a man being a sincere friend, Rafael would be the one. But they’d met only twenty-four hours ago, and he still had plenty of time to show his true colors as many had done before him. Meanwhile, she would enjoy every moment with him. She inched closer and touched her lips to his.
“I like your kisses, Rafael.”
“Then let me give you more.” His arms closed around her, and he pulled her onto his lap. His mouth a breath away from hers, he whispered, “Soft kisses or deep ones?”
“Both. The soft kisses make me feel like a cherished woman. Even if it’s not true.” She put a finger across his lips when he tried to protest. “And the deep kisses make me feel like a passionate lover. Even if it’s not true,” she repeated, smiling and shrugging.
He licked her lips, tracing their contour with the tip of his tongue. “I promise by the end of this day I’ll make you feel both cherished and passionate.”
