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“Then do that. Take her to your place, cook her a meal—”
He frowned. “That hardly sounds romantic. What I need is something that will really make an impression.”
She folded her arms and gave him a pointed look. “There are only a few things in this world that are truly irresistible to a woman like Constance.”
Her words finally did what they were meant to, they captured his attention and he’d latched on like a fish on a hook.
“They want someone strong, considerate, and well-rounded.”
“That doesn’t help me at all.”
“I wasn’t done,” she grumbled. “Women love men who know how to fix things, are good with kids, and can cook.”
He frowned. It couldn’t be that easy. And even if it was, he’d been telling her the truth when he said he could only cook one decent meal. Everything else he knew how to prepare ranged from frozen meals to hoagie sandwiches.
“I can tell you don’t believe me. But just think about it. If you can cook for her and give her a thoughtful gift, she’s going to be all over it.”
“And you think this idea of yours is foolproof?”
Chloe turned back to her computer and shrugged. “It would work on me. If a guy went through the trouble to cook me a meal and make me feel special, I’d be all in.” She placed her hands on the keyboard and the sound of the soft clicks took the place of their voices.
If she was right, then tonight would be simpler than he’d expected. He’d make fettucine alfredo, get her some flowers, and then he’d tell her he loved her. If everything went well, then afterward, they could discuss how they wanted to move forward.
* * *
James hustledthrough his small apartment kitchen with a tray of rolls. He didn’t have an official dining room, so he’d set up his table in the living room with candles and the fireplace on. The days were getting shorter and the air was crisper in the mornings, so the fire gave the evening just the right touch.
The pasta was done cooking and he left the sauce simmering. James placed the garlic rolls on each of their plates and then returned to the kitchen for the pitcher of ice water. Everything was perfect, from the food to the atmosphere.
Excitement and nerves swirled within him, crashing the party his confidence was trying to throw. Constance would be arriving any minute.
As if in agreement with his thoughts, the doorbell rang. He jumped, nearly dropping the pitcher. Never had he felt so worried over one evening. Even when he’d realized that his relationship with Brielle wasn’t going anywhere, he had known he was making the right decision.
The one he’d made tonight was definitely the right one; he just didn’t know if Constance realized it.
James returned the pitcher to the kitchen and wiped his hands on a dishtowel that hung from the oven. He tossed the rag on his shoulder and made it to the door just before Constance’s hand made contact with the wood.
All it took was seeing her to quell the worries that had been wrapping tighter and tighter around his throat. She wore a blouse and a pair of dress pants, probably what she’d worn to her exam earlier today. She’d opted to skip coming into the clinic due to her schedule and he’d missed their usual interactions.
Without warning her, he pulled her close and pressed a firm kiss against her lips. Her sweet taste and soft curves were heaven. He couldn’t even remember why he’d been so upset in the first place. Constance had a way of calming him that he’d never experienced with anyone before.
She relaxed against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in tighter for a deeper kiss.
His heart exploded and his stomach seemed to have forgotten that gravity existed. Keeping her in his arms, James backed up a few steps and kicked the door shut. He pressed her against it, his breathing ragged and out of control. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured against her lips.
Her hands slipped down to his shoulders, and she pushed him away a few inches so her gaze could meet his. “I’ve missed you, too.” There was a tightness in her voice that sent a warning note to his brain. It was far too easy to immediately go to a dark place. What was wrong? Had something bad happened? Or was it about to?
No, that wasn’t it. He was imagining things. She’d had a long day and all she needed was to put her feet up and enjoy a good meal to feel better.
“How did your tests go?” James placed his hand on the small of her back, feeling a slight resistance as he guided her through his apartment and toward the table in the living room. He pulled out her chair and she turned toward him.
“James, there’s something—”
The timer on the stove went off and he shifted his focus to the kitchen. Holding up his finger, he shot her a smile. “Hold that thought.” He hurried toward the oven and turned off the timer, then gathered the salad bowl and dressing before returning to the table.
Constance was seated, her fingers tracing the designs in the flatware. He placed the bowl in front of her and when she looked up, he gave her another warm smile.
“I might only be good at cooking one thing, but I know it tastes delicious. I’ll be right back.” He reached for their plates and returned to the stove. In no time he’d drained the pasta and served it up. The smell of the alfredo sauce filled the whole apartment and his stomach grumbled. He returned her plate to the spot in front of her, then put his own plate down on the table and finally took a seat.
