“You are brilliant in the boardroom,” she said. “So what if cooking isn’t your thing?”
He sighed in agreement. “Let’s order something in.”
“Absolutely not. You’ve got most of this meal finished. I’m sure between the two of us we can get something on the table.”
“Says the Queen of Takeout.”
She pushed up her sleeves, surveying the counter. “All right, you open the wine and fill two glasses. I’m going to attempt to season the sauce.”
“Aye-aye, captain.”
Moving to the pot on the stove, she gave the tomatoes an experimental stir. It seemed a little thick to her, but maybe that’s the way it was supposed to be. She grabbed the salt and pepper and shook in what she thought was a decent amount.
“Do all these herbs go in?” she asked as she heard the sound of the wine bottle being uncorked.
“The internet says yes.”
Shrugging, she tossed the greenery into the pot and turned her attention to slicing up an onion.
Darian set a glass beside her before raising his own to his lips. “You select wine better than I make pasta,” he said.
She tossed him a smile. “One of my many talents.”
Moving to her side, he reached for the pasta bowl and started pinching pieces together.
“What are you making?” She leaned closer to get a better view.
“It’s supposed to be bowtie pasta.”
“Cute.” The pasta pieces might be a little misshapen but she’d forever have the visual of her Fortune 500 boss scowling at tiny bits of dough, and that was worth more than a delicious dinner.
Dumping the onion into the pot, she asked, “How long should this heat?”
“Until they’re cooked, I assume.” He held up a handful of uneven bowties.
“Throw ’em in the pot, then. I’m hungry.”
Soon the pasta was bubbling on the stove and the sauce was starting to smell slightly better. Allison swept the used produce into the trash before stacking some of the dirty dishes in the sink.
“Did you use every bowl you own?”
Darian wiped down the counters as he replied, “I promise I’ll buy a bag of pasta and a pre-bottled sauce next time.”
Next time. Warmth suffused her at the words.
Drying off her hands, she stepped closer to him. “You’ve got a little something right there.”
Cupping his cheek, she used a tea towel to wipe the flour smudge off his skin.
He held still under her touch. Trying to ignore the way her heart raced to be so near him, she did her best to appear unaffected.
“I think I got it,” she said softly, her gaze flicking to his.
She should step back. Should drop her hand and make some light comment about the sauce.
So why aren’t you? her inner voice asked as she stared up at him like a lovesick teen.
“Thank you,” he replied.
He’s not stepping back, either. It’d be so easy to rise onto my tiptoes. In seconds my mouth could be on his.
For a couple of blissful moments before he’d push her away and explain in excruciating detail why she wasn’t his type.
Allison stepped back, clearing her throat. “You might still have a little flour in your hair.”
He watched her for a long moment, thoughtful blue eyes studying her, before he smiled slightly.
“If that’s the only flour on me, then I got off lucky.” He ran his hands through his hair to dust off the flour. “Better?”
“Much better.” She could barely squeak the words out of her tight throat. Sexy, tousled Darian was even more tempting than suave, business-like Darian.
“I’m sure the pasta must be done. Grab two plates from that cupboard, and I’ll drain off the water.”
Following his directions, she set two places, while he poured the pasta and sauce into a serving bowl and brought it over. Not wanting them to be separated by the large table, she arranged the two plates on opposite sides of one corner. He’d be close enough to touch if she worked up the courage.
“Bon appetite,” he said, raising his wineglass to her.
“Looks tasty,” she lied, spooning some of the concoction onto her plate.
Darian took a bite and stopped mid-chew.
“That good, huh?” she asked.
“A masterpiece,” he replied.
Stabbing a piece, she popped it into her mouth and nearly choked. The garlic flavor was overpowering and the pasta was both underdone and far too salty. Forcing the bite down, she reached for her wine.
“Yummy,” she said, taking a large sip.
Laughter erupted from Darian, and she paused, startled. In the four years they’d been a team, she’d seen him happy. She’d even seen him laugh on rare occasion, but not like this. The sound that filled the room was a joyous, whole-body laugh. Had she ever seen his face so free of stress and worry? Unable to do anything else, she watched him laugh at his failure and felt her heart clench.