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"That obvious, huh?" He cuts up a piece of the sausage and offers it to me. I chew on it, and once more, the intense green of chives, with the bite of peppercorns, combines with the chewy texture of the meat and fills my mouth.
"I’m not a great cook, to be honest. But this food could come from a very fine restaurant." I lick my lips.
His gaze is fixed to my mouth, and he feeds me more of the sausage. "I could spend all day watching you eat."
I redden. I’m good with accepting compliments; I really am. So why is it that these remarks from him make me blush?
"I briefly entertained the thought of becoming a chef." He picks up a piece of the sausage and chews on it.
"You? A chef?"
"That’s how I met James," he adds.
"You mean James Hamilton, the chef?"
He nods. "I even went to culinary school with him. But then, my father had a heart attack. I came home to find him weak and almost at death’s door. He told me his one wish was for me to follow in his footsteps."
"And you did," I point out.
"I always knew I was going to go into public service eventually; the cooking was a hobby I enjoyed. I loved experimenting with ingredients almost as much as I enjoy putting the right people together to create a group that will draw on the strengths of the individuals and make the combined team much more than the sum of the parts."
He glances up, then tilts his head. "That’s a very thoughtful look you have there."
"My father was very demanding of me and my brother. He never treated me as a girl, actually. He always told me, anything my brother could do, I could do better. I found the weight of his expectations both crushing and exhilarating. And maybe, I felt more compelled to rise to the challenge. Maybe I felt I had to deliver on his dreams for me."
"Hence, you became a lawyer?"
"I did." I tuck the sheet firmly under my arms. "And then, I started my own PR firm."
"A gamble, maybe?"
"No more than you going into public life."
"I’ll be the first to admit that following in the footsteps of my father, and his father before that, opened doors for me that otherwise might have remained closed. It also invited comparisons with my father and grandfather, which I was prepared for. I took it as a compliment that people contrasted my style to theirs. I knew I had to focus on my strengths, that with time my style would shine through, and I’d develop my own approach, my own modus operandi."
"Your own brand appeal," I murmur.
"Indeed. As have you, Councilor. You’re one heck of a ballsy, fearless negotiator, who’ll go to any lengths to ensure your client is protected. You have single-handedly steered tough journalists into writing stories from the angles that benefit your principals."
"Why, thank you," I dip my head. "And you have a strong brand, Minister. Not only are you charismatic, but your confidence comes across as a self-assuredness which is very attractive."
"Is it now?" He smirks.
"Clearly, it’s going to swell your already oversized head, but since I’ve opened this particular line of thought, I may as well tell you that you also speak sense. Which is more than I can say of many of your colleagues."
He laughs—a full belly laugh that wells up from deep inside, rumbles up his chest, and brightens his features. With his tousled hair and days-old growth on his jaw, not to mention, those gray sweatpants and bare chest, he could well be a sex god. Correction, he is a sex god, who not only has the equipment but also delivers on the promise.
He lowers his chin and watches me with a speculative look.
"You haven’t eaten much breakfast." I gesture to the half-full plate.
"That’s because I’m saving my appetite for something else."
25
Hunter
Her eyes flash and her breathing grows rough. She moves restlessly under the covers, which dip down between her breasts. I slide my legs off the bed, take the tray and stow it on the side-table. Then I quirk my finger. "Come 'ere."
