Right Billionaire, Wrong Wedding (Sexy Billionaires)(23)

But this was different.

She surveyed her clothes. Tonight featured an elegant knee-length skirt and an off-the-shoulder blue shirt she’d thought was cute.

Standing before his door, however, she had second thoughts. Was the shirt a little too bare? Was her hair, usually pinned in a bun and now in loose, flowing curls, too wild?

Did she look too much like a woman hoping tonight was a date instead of a colleague looking forward to some mutual R&R?

“Buck up,” she told herself, rolling her shoulders back. Just because she was at his house did not change their relationship in any way. She was still his assistant. The clothes she wore didn’t change that.

She rang the doorbell before she could chicken out.

Silence stretched.

Should I ring it again? she wondered, staring at the closed door. He is expecting me, isn’t he?

Raising her hand to the doorbell, she paused when what sounded like a crash reached her ears. Leaning closer to the door, she was ninety percent sure she could hear Darian cursing.

“Darian?” she called.

The door flew open to reveal a more frazzled version of her boss than she’d ever seen.

His perfect hair was ruffled and out of place, as if he’d been dragging his fingers through it. A streak of flour clung to one cheek and there was a decidedly crazed expression on his face.

“Dinner is defeating me.”

Allison blinked. “I brought wine.”

“Then you’re welcome here.” He opened the door wider.

She slipped into his entry hall and eyed him, shrugging out of her jacket.

“It’s smells…” She sniffed the air. “Uh, nice.”

Darian snorted and closed the door behind her. “Liar.” He took her coat and hung it up. Swinging back to her, whatever he was going to say stalled as he looked her up and down from the tips of her shoes to the top of her curls.

She waited for the verdict.

“You look amazing.”

She didn’t have to be a mind reader to see he regretted the words as soon as he said them. But there was nothing she could do to stop the pleasure sweeping through her.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Silence stretched. Allison racked her brains for something to diffuse the tension.

“What exactly are you trying to do?” she asked.

He swallowed once before picking up on her lead. “I told you I’d thank you for your hard work with a home-cooked meal.”

“Did you ask Suzie to make it?” she asked, naming his housekeeper. The glare she received put a smile on her lips.

“I told her I’d do it.”

“You cook about as well as I do.”

“Trust me, tonight proves that without a doubt. Follow me to the disaster zone.”

Carrying the bottle of wine, she trailed him through the sprawling entryway. A grand mahogany staircase curled up toward the second floor, and they passed a few archways that obviously lead to other sections of the house. She only managed to catch a brief glimpse of the living room as Darian led her to the kitchen.

“Oh my,” she said when she stepped into the white tiled space.

Though the kitchen was by no means small, every available surface was filled with dirty bowls or half chopped produce.

“What exactly was the source of this mess?”

“I tried to make pasta.”

“From scratch?” she asked, seeing lumps of dough blending into the countertops. “You know they sell that stuff in grocery stores, right?”

“I thought I was up to the challenge.”

She pushed a bowl aside then set the wine bottle in the space she’d cleared before wandering toward the stove.

“Tomato sauce?” She examined the white cloves peppering the red mush in the pot. She guessed he’d been a tad heavy handed with the garlic.

“It’s still missing a few ingredients.” He gestured toward the cutting board where some herbs waited, partially chopped.

Allison rotated slowly, taking in every inch of the mess, before returning her gaze to Darian.

“Don’t you dare laugh.”

Amusement bubbled within her. She slapped a hand over her mouth to smother any incriminating sounds.

“Last time I try to do something nice for you,” he said with a shake of his head. But even he was grinning at the trouble he’d gotten into.

“I do appreciate the gesture,” she said, walking to his side. “I’ve never had anyone try to make me such an ambitious meal.”

“Tomato pasta?”

A giggle escaped her. There was nothing she could do to stop it. Putting her hand on his arm she fought the urge to hug him. Dinner might be a disaster, but she didn’t care. In this instance, it was definitely the thought that counted, and in his way, Darian had just tried to take care of her. How long had it been since someone had thought to make her a meal?