He tried to hide his smile while blotting his mouth with a napkin. “Maybe I should look for a morning flight instead?”
She bit her lip and nodded. Despite her behavior in that hotel room, she wasn’t really into one-night stands. She wasn’t altogether sure about “friends with benefits,” either. She’d prefer someone she could develop a relationship with. That could never be Drew. Despite all of her misgivings, however, she knew she was going to sleep with him tonight.
He glanced at his phone again, but not fast enough to hide the hungry expression in his eyes. He had more on his mind than dinner. He scrolled down the screen of his smart phone with a fingertip. “Here’s a flight for six-thirty in the morning.”
She tried to focus on the discussion at hand while her cheeks got hot. If the evening went as well as she hoped it would, she wasn’t going to want to pull herself out of bed to get him to the airport by four-thirty AM.
“That’s too early,” she said. She grabbed her phone, hit a few buttons, and said, “How about eight-thirty? It’s early enough so that you’ll still be able to enjoy your day off.”
“I’m enjoying myself right now, Kendall.” His eyes caught and held hers.
“I’m enjoying myself too.” She knew she was still blushing, and she tried to ignore the rush of excitement in her belly. She also knew she might as well have been wearing a sign saying you’re getting laid tonight. She hit more buttons on her phone. “Let me buy your plane ticket home. You did me a huge favor—”
“I did it because I wanted to. I’d do it again. Thank you, but it’s on me.” He touched a few more buttons on his smart phone’s screen and said, “I have a confirmation and I’m already checked in for the flight.” He got to his feet and helped her up. “Let’s see what we can come up with for dinner.”
Instead of parking himself on a kitchen stool while she assembled food, he pushed up his sleeves, washed his hands, and asked, “What would you like me to do?”
“You’re the guest,” she insisted. “Why don’t you sit down and take it easy?”
“Later,” he said. “It’ll get done faster if I help.”
“Are you too good to be true?”
“No,” he said, but he grinned. “My mom taught me a long time ago that pitching in is always best.”
Kendall defrosted a couple of chicken breasts in the microwave and put them into a glass baking pan, drizzling them with olive oil and garlic powder before sliding them into the oven. Maybe she should add some more vegetables or something. Drew probably ate a lot more than a chicken breast and some salad at each meal.
“Is this going to be enough? Maybe I should steam some vegetables or bake a potato for you,” she said.
She was enjoying sharing the simple tasks she carried out each day with him—two people making their way around a kitchen, assembling a meal. She knew asking him to stay wasn’t the brightest idea she’d ever had. Additional involvement with a guy she shouldn’t be involved with in the first place wasn’t a terrific plan, but she couldn’t seem to help herself right now.
Spending the night with Drew was a one-night guilty pleasure. She’d get him out of her system. Other women did this kind of thing all the time. It was her turn.
“Do you have any food allergies I should know about?” she said.
She hadn’t shared her kitchen with anyone else since Tony and felt a twinge of embarrassment at the thought. She reminded herself that according to everything she’d ever read or heard about him, Drew didn’t have a wife and a couple of kids in Connecticut.
“No food allergies. Well, I’m not especially fond of wasabi,” he said.
“Wasabi?”
“One of my college roommates loved the stuff and put it on everything.” He shuddered a little, and she had to smile. “Other than that, I’m easy.” She watched him rinse fresh spinach like he’d been doing it his entire life and add it to the salad bowl she’d put out for him. “And this is plenty of food.”
“Do you enjoy cooking?”
“Sometimes. I’m more of a fan of eating, but my mom insisted that I learn to make the basics before she turned me loose.” He crossed the kitchen to her refrigerator and said, “Mind if I look in here for salad stuff?”
“That would be great,” she said.
He opened the door, pulled out ingredients, and stacked them on the kitchen island.
“Let’s see here,” he said, grabbing a chopping knife out of the block. “I’ll put some sliced mushrooms and some other stuff in here, and I can cut up some avocado just before we’re ready to eat. How about a few more raspberries?”