“What are you cooking over there, Chef Jameson?” she asked, pointing to the stove with the big pot bubbling on it. She could see steam pouring out of the top of it.
“Oh, shit. I forgot, I have to stir that and turn down the heat or dinner’s going to be ruined,” he said, scrambling to his feet and darting back to the stove.
He picked up his spoon and stirred vigorously for a minute. “I’m making Red’s famous spaghetti with marinara sauce.”
“Mmmm…sounds delicious,” she replied, sniffing the air. “I smell onions and garlic and meatballs.”
“Sausage, actually. Everything’s in the sauce, babe.” He turned and gave her an exaggerated wink. “But don’t try and ask me for my recipe—I’ll never reveal my secret sauce.”
“I think I could make you tell if I wanted to.”
“No way,” he said, shaking his head. “My lips are sealed.”
A few minutes later, Red had come back to the couch bearing his frozen peas again, as promised. Nicole sat up and he placed a few pillows behind her back, but still made sure her foot was sufficiently elevated.
“Thanks,” she said, relaxing again into the wonders of being waited on hand and foot by the love of her life. She actually wanted to pinch herself and make sure it wasn’t a dream.
As Red continued to prepare their dinner, she had time to think about all of the things they still needed to talk about. After all, now that she was pregnant, they had to truly set a wedding date and work through everything this was going to entail. She didn’t know what kind of parenting style Red believed in. She didn’t know if he wanted to find out the baby’s sex in advance—did he want to take Lamaze classes with her?
There were so many questions, so many details to figure out.
And on top of that, there were all the other questions still lingering about what Red’s fate was going to be now that he’d been fired from Jameson International. Nicole didn’t care about the money specifically, but she did want to know what his next step would be. Did he want to just hang around at home and live off his money for the rest of his life—did he want them to live in the wilderness like the Swiss Family Robinson?
Nicole hated to think that Kane Wright had forced Red into early retirement.
Even thinking the man’s name made her stomach turn. Worse still, she knew eventually she was going to have to explain to Red what had gone on while they’d been out of touch.
Kane was still under the assumption that Nicole was going to the Cayman Islands with him. How would he react when he realized she was backing out of the deal? He’d already paid off Danielle’s student loans and credit cards to the tune of a hundred thousand dollars. He still had information about Red that he was threatening to release to the media.
As wonderful as it had been to enjoy this little pocket of tranquility and contentment, she knew she was going to have to burst the bubble sooner rather than later with news from the outside world.
And Nicole knew Red well enough to be fairly certain he was going to blow his stack when he found out about Kane Wright’s recent overtures.
“Dinner is served, madam,” Red said, carrying a heaping plate of spaghetti over to her on the couch.
“It looks and smells delicious,” she said, and it was true. Her stomach gurgled and growled, reminding her of just how ravenous she really was.
Nicole dug in immediately and was astounded by how good it tasted. “Wow,” she said. “You weren’t kidding when you said this was your famous marinara sauce. It’s totally awesome.”
Red went to the stove to make himself a plate. “I shouldn’t really take all the credit, though. Chef Roland might have shown me a thing or two.”
“It’s his recipe, isn’t it?”
Red finished spooning sauce onto his spaghetti before answering. “Truth is, a couple years ago I realized that I couldn’t cook anything but bacon and eggs. And my eggs weren’t anything to write home about either.” He grabbed a chair and pulled it right next to the couch, then sat down and rested the plate on his lap. “I figured it might be nice to learn how to make at least one decent meal, in case I ever wanted to cook and impress someone.”
Nicole cocked an eyebrow at him. “Just how many women have you made this famous pasta for?”
“Only a few,” he said, his face reddening slightly. “But I’ve never made it with so much love. I swear.”
She put another forkful in her mouth and chewed before speaking again. “It’s okay, I love you even though you used to be a slut.”
“Slut? Me?” He shook his head, pretending to be annoyed. “How dare you?”