Connor owned her kitchen like a rock star owned a stage—even in track pants and a plain white T-shirt. His back rippled as he shifted pans across the stove. He threw a handful of something into a pan and the contents sizzled with sound as if he were playing an instrument. Her mouth watered but not for food.
She’d gobble up just about anything he dished up.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Sit down.”
Connor ducked his head toward the kitchen stools and she plopped onto one. Plates, cutlery, even coffee waited on the counter.
What the hell was happening? Had she stepped into an alternate universe where hot, bossy men waited on women? She picked up the coffee and took a gulp and tried not to choke on her overeager swallow. Connor carried a pan from the stove and slid two eggs onto her plate and four onto his own. She stared at the perfectly cooked eggs. Yep, alternate universe all right.
Simon hadn’t known how the kettle worked let alone ever lowered himself to cook for her. Pity for him she couldn’t cook for shit. He’d gotten to bitch about a whole heap of undercooked pasta and burned sausages in their time together.
Connor returned with more pans and loaded her plate with bacon, mushrooms, and beans in a thick sauce. “Homemade baked beans. Eat up, they’re good for you.” He put the pan into the sink and slid onto the stool next to her.
“I’m surprised you could find what you needed in my pantry to make them.”
Her plate could barely hold the food piled onto it. She glanced at his plate. He may as well have dished it up in a serving platter. He scooped up a forkful of steaming beans.
“I’m resourceful. Don’t be shy—you’re going to need your energy for what I have planned.”
Her cheeks warmed. Why was it everything he said sounded dirty? Obviously they were going to work out again. Charlize picked up her knife and fork and cut a chunk of bacon. “More kick-boxing?”
Connor chewed then gulped coffee. “Not today, just self-defense training.” He set down his cup and gazed at her. “It’ll be intense but by the end you’ll be surprised at what you can do.”
Charlize nodded. About freaking time. She was looking forward to learning to kick some ass. She took a small scoop of baked beans, not really her thing but hey, he’d bothered to make them and they had to be better than anything she could make.
Flavor exploded across her tongue. Garlic with smoky undertones and a hint of sweetness. Scratch that—she freaking loved baked beans. Her eyes shut and she chewed slowly.
“But it’s the fucking you’re going to need your energy for.”
Her eyes flew open and she coughed up a bean. She grabbed a napkin and wiped her mouth, her fingers shaking. “What?”
He held his fork in front of him and it kind of looked as if maybe he was going to scoop her up with it. “If you’re going to eat my food like that, I’ll be forced to feed you something else. So behave or the fucking will come first.”
Her clothes seemed to shrink around her. Either that or her accelerating blood flow was expanding her skin. “I hope you’re joking. Is that supposed to be some kind of caveman sweet-talk?”
Connor’s stormy blue eyes shifted across her face—lips—eyes—lips. She had to fight the urge to touch her mouth.
“Have you forgotten what you asked me to do last night?” He leaned closer. “I haven’t.”
She leaned into the warmth of him, drawn to the way his bottom lip glistened. He straightened and returned to his breakfast.
“Now eat.”
Charlize studied her plate. How in the heck was she supposed to eat another bite? She’d seen this coming—hell, she’d asked for it the night before. But in the clarity of morning the idea made her heart want to crash its way out of her body.
Why should what she wanted be so completely damn terrifying?
* * * * *
They finished breakfast and did the dishes like a real couple. He washed and she dried and put away. They made use of her mostly empty living room for training, standing barefoot in the middle of the room. Charlize glanced at the hardwood floor.
“Wouldn’t this be safer on the rug?”
“We won’t be doing throws today,” he said and circled her, walked around her three times.
She refused to turn her head and follow him.
“Here’s how it’s going to work. I’m going to show you a dozen simple techniques. At the end I’m going to test you.”
She frowned. “Like a quiz?”
“No, like a challenge. We see what you’ve remembered. Get you to think on your feet, force you to think quickly and react fast.” He stopped in front of her. “If you pass the challenge, you win—and trust me, you want to win.”