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“And now?”
“Now I could eat enough for the two of us.” Her stomach jerked against her ribs in a bid for obvious agreement.
“Holy crap, I’d better feed you stat, then.” A funny look crossed his features, but she couldn’t make it out in the dark. “You up for something a little unconventional?”
They were in the middle of the Blue Ridge Mountains, for God’s sake. Most people up here considered Mexican food unconventional. “I’ve had just about everything you can think of, remember? I mean, I’m up for basically anything right now, but I don’t think you’re going to have much luck if you want to surprise me.”
Even in the near-dark, the irony on his face was plain. “Oh, I think I might.”
When they pulled up to a quiet, two-story apartment building ten minutes later, Carly stood one hundred percent corrected.
“Is this…do you live here?” She blinked as Jackson opened the passenger door for her and waited for her to jump down to the night-cooled pavement.
“Yup. It’s nothing fancy. As a matter of fact, since I wasn’t really expecting to do this, I’m really kind of just hoping it’s passably clean. But this is home.” Jackson led her to the neatly landscaped courtyard and up a flight of covered outdoor steps.
Carly blinked, still not quite registering his intent. “So, did you need to come and grab something before we go eat?”
Jackson stopped short, flipping his keys. The metal on metal jingle played against the cup of his palm, and he glanced at her, thoughtful. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about what you said last week. About how you always cook but nobody feeds you.” He paused on the threshold, eyes dark blue and steady on her face, and something nameless and frighteningly good broke free to spread out in her chest.
“I’d like to change that. Right now.”
* * *
Carly’swide-eyed surprise never failed to take a potshot at Jackson’s gut, and right now was no exception.
“You want to cook something for me?”
Christ, it only topped the list of things he wanted to do to her. The urge to put his mouth on hers and not stop kissing her until they’d both had their fill screamed through him, just as it had for much of the evening. But something dared him to overrule it, to listen to that voice in his head that told him to feed her, even though it didn’t make any sense. He closed the space between them with only a few inches to spare, skimming a palm up her forearm before letting it rest on her shoulder.
“Well, that all depends. Do you want to let me?”
The heat of their bodies so close together colored her cheeks with a flush that swept down the column of her neck, and it took every last ounce of control Jackson had to keep his mind on feeding her. But then she nodded, and it steadied his resolve. He slid his key into the lock, saying one last prayer that there wasn’t a legion of dust bunnies on the other side.
Carly followed him into his apartment, which was mercifully clean enough, taking it in with a curious glance. “So, what’s on the menu?”
Good freaking question. Jackson’s culinary skills were limited to mac and cheese from a box and the occasional spaghetti with frozen meatballs, neither of which was bound to impress her in the least. “I’m a man of intrigue, remember?” He did a mental tally of the items in his fridge and gave an inward groan.
Feed her.
Carly’s lush mouth tilted into a smile. “Is that code for ‘I don’t know yet?’”
Of course she’d frickin’ figure him out. “It’s actually code for ‘I haven’t decided yet.’”
“We could order something if you want. Or I could just take a look in the pantry and throw something together. I really don’t mind.” She moved through his postage stamp of a kitchen as if on auto-pilot, but Jackson caught her mid-step on her way to the narrow pantry door. He pressed her body against the counter with one hand on either side of her hips, loosely trapping her in place.
“I know you’re used to being bossy in the kitchen. But we’re not on your turf this time.” All of a sudden, his lack of confidence in his culinary skills faded to black. He couldn’t resist the magnetic heat of her, drawing him closer, and he dipped his mouth to the curve of her neck. “So, are you going to let me do this for you, or not?”
The sigh that crossed her lips made him want to take his inner voice and lock it in the closet, but when Carly nodded, he forced himself to take a step back.
“Yes,” she whispered, looking up at him through shadowy lashes.
“Okay.” Jackson pulled in a breath to steel himself, knowing that his dick was about to be righteously indignant about his brain’s decision to cook first and kiss later. He was going to have to wing his way through the kitchen, no easy task in front of a professional chef.
Right. Time to rely on distraction. At least until he could figure out something passable to make. “We’re going to do this my way, which means no cheating. No helping of any kind. In fact,” Jackson murmured, reaching down to take her hands in his. “No watching, either. Not until it’s time to eat.”
“You’re kicking me out of the kitchen entirely?” The fire in her stare told Jackson to tread carefully, but he refused to back down.
“No. I’m creating a food experience. You’re the one who said you need to rely on all your senses. If you don’t see what I’m doing, you’ll have to use everything else that much more.” He led her around to the narrow breakfast bar where he ate all his meals, cupping his palm beneath the wooden ladder back of one of the bar stools resting there.
