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“We have all night.”
For food, she shouted silently, forcing herself not to read into that statement. Jack was being nice. Probably craving a home-cooked meal. Spending more time with her most likely had nothing to do with tonight’s cooking show. “I bet you’re pretty hungry.”
“Actually, watching you, I’m famished.”
And didn’t that send her mind to inappropriate places. “For a man who doesn’t cook, you sure have a stocked state-of-the-art kitchen. I’ve never seen so many baking pans in one place.”
He smiled back at her. “We aim to please.”
Once again, her mind was ready and willing to let her imagination run wild. If she didn’t get it under wraps, and fast, this was going to be a very long night.
“Anything I can do to help?” He pushed away from the island and stood.
“You want to brown the sausage?” She waved a spoon at the empty frying pan. As much as she liked watching the way the corded muscles of his neck moved with every sip of wine, or how the fabric of his t-shirt pulled against hard biceps every time he raised his glass to his lips, the prospect of the two of them standing side by side held a great deal more appeal.
“Absolutely. Sausage in a frying pan is a lot like breakfast. I can do breakfast.”
She refused to let her mind wander to how many times he must have made breakfast for two. Instead, she reached forward and turned on the burner.
Jack pierced the sausage with a fork and tossed the links into the pan. He rolled and flipped each one with practiced ease. Yep. Lots of breakfasts.
“Am I doing this right?” The warmth of his arm bumped against her as she stirred the noodles in the massive pot beside the frying pan.
Of all people to have a single touch light her up from the inside out, why did it have to be Jack? So many reasons this man was so off-limits. Facing down her brothers was at the top of the list. “Hard to mess up sausage.”
“Cooked enough to add to the sauce?”
She bobbed her head. That came easier at the moment than making polite chit-chat while his arm was still pressed against hers.
Stabbing the first link with the fork, he dropped it into the pot. The second link refused to slide off the prongs. Jack used his finger to gently shove it forward. “Ow.”
“Careful.” She let go of her spoon, wiped her hands on a dishrag. Jack stuck his finger in his mouth and Siobhan almost swallowed her tongue as his cheeks moved with the motions of sucking at the pained finger. Getting a grip of her runaway imagination, she reached for his hand. “Let me see.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Those sausages are covered in hot grease. It can burn you more than you think.”
Gently she turned the fingertip, looking for any sign of blistering. She didn’t dare look up, but she was sure his gaze was burning a hole through her. “Let’s run it under cold water.”
“It’s fine.” He made no effort to retrieve his hand or move toward the sink.
She could be stubborn. Hands on her hips, she didn’t budge until he did as he was told and ran the red finger under cold water. The burn taken care of, they resumed the cooking process. Somehow she made it through all the casual touches as he helped her layer the casserole, and through the lingering glances and heartfelt chuckles as he told stories of his escapades with her brother, including having the teachers catch them in a girl’s room—innocently, according to him—during an outing to New York City in high school. She’d almost peed her pants from laughing while the lasagna baked.
Looking around the well-appointed condo, for a single man, the place was huge. Her little flat in Dublin could fit in the living and dining room alone. “Did you decorate this yourself?”
“If I had, it would have nothing but sports posters and theater seating.” Jack chuckled. “Though I did set up my office on my own. The decorator wanted to give me this rather stuffy man cave but I needed practical.”
“Do you work from home?”
“Sometimes. A lot of time I have to be in the office, but some days I can get as much done from home, especially if I don’t have to waste time commuting.”
“Are you still making people rich trading in the financial markets?”
His brows shot up. “How did you know that?”
“Is it a secret?”
“Well, no.” He shrugged.
