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Chapter 19
Troy stepped up to Alison’s door and knocked. That particular sound, against that particular door, had become his favorite thing in the world. It was like Pavlov’s dogs. It got him drooling—told his brain that awesome, delicious things were coming his way, and soon.
Tonight was the night. The first time he’d be spending true one-on-one alone time with Alison. He was excited. He was looking forward to it. He felt that the night held a lot of beautiful possibilities.
Most of all, though? He just didn’t want to screw it up.
The door opened and his eyes widened.
Alison stood there, framed by the soft pastel light filling the room through the wall of windows behind her, as the sun set over the ocean. Troy was sure he’d never seen a lovelier picture in his entire life.
Her hair fell gently around her shoulders. Her skin glowed with a soft light of its own.
God. This was a woman who didn’t need make-up, didn’t need fancy clothes. Her natural beauty was far more stunning than any adornment could possibly be.
“You look gorgeous,” he said, and he didn’t even realize his throat had constricted until he heard the strangled sound of his own voice as it came out of his mouth. It didn’t even feel like him talking. It felt like he was watching a stranger who looked a lot like him croak out the words.
So much for not fucking it up. How’s that going?
She smiled, took his hand, and led him inside. “Come in,” she said, and her sultry voice told him he hadn’t fucked it up too badly.
“That smells delicious.”
She crossed to the oven and opened it a crack, gazing inside intently. “Hmmm…looks like we have about ten more minutes until my famous lasagna’s ready. Care for a glass of wine?”
“Absolutely.”
“White or red?”
“Red, thanks.”
She pulled two wine glasses out of the cabinet and poured deep, rich, jewel-toned wine into each of them. Troy watched the liquid spill into the glasses, glinting in the light as it tumbled over itself.
She handed him his glass, and he swirled it and held it up to his nose. The thick aroma of tannins joined the tomato and cheese smell, leaving him feeling like he was in a five-star restaurant instead of Alison’s kitchen.
Given the choice, he would’ve picked Alison’s kitchen all day, every day.
“So, what makes it famous?”
She smiled and tilted her head cutely to the side, eyebrows twitching. God, she was adorable. “Excuse me?”
“The lasagna. What makes it famous?”
She laughed. “It’s basically the only thing I can make. I’m pretty much this lasagna’s one-man PR team.”
“Well, it smells amazing. I guess that’s proof that PR flacks don’t always lie?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“True.”
She stepped closer to him. “A toast. To a lovely evening.”
He clinked his glass to hers, leaning in and whispering seductively, “And an even lovelier host.”
He’d placed his hand on her waist and felt her skin tremble beneath his fingertips. God, it was amazing—the connection between the words he’d spoken and the physical reaction she had. Just his voice was enough to send tremors running through her body.
She lifted her chin to look directly into his eyes, lust sparking clearer than anything he’d ever seen before.
He lifted his hand and ran his fingertips ever so lightly down her jawline, tracing his thumb across her cheek, until he’d cupped her chin in his hand. Without tearing his eyes from hers, he placed his wineglass gently on the counter, then took hers from her shaking hand and set it next to his.
“I’m not gonna lie,” she whispered. “That was sexy as hell.”
Without another word, he crushed his lips to hers. He couldn’t wait even one more minute to explore her mouth with his tongue, to taste her lips that were sweeter and more potent than any wine that could’ve been in that glass.
Bottom line—he had to have her, and he had to have her right then and there.
