“We will never eat if you can’t concentrate,” she told him.
His hand stopped hers from pushing the heel of her palm into the dough. “I think we should talk about what’s going on here.”
She swallowed. “We’re cooking.”
“Gabi, look at me.”
She shook her head, taking the coward’s way out. If she noticed the lock of hair falling into his eyes a second time, she might have to push it back in place.
“Gabriella?” The smooth texture of his voice was like chocolate on her tongue.
His sticky hand tucked under her chin and forced her to meet his gaze.
He stepped closer, his frame molding to hers and pressing her back against the counter.
She couldn’t breathe.
His thumb traced her bottom lip. “This is a bad idea,” he mumbled her thoughts.
She nodded. “Very poor choice.” Her hands gripped the side of the counter to keep from touching him.
Hunter sucked in a deep breath. “You smell like flowers.”
“I’ll change my shampoo.”
He started to dip his head and she kept talking. “Something musky, so you won’t notice me.”
“I don’t think that’s going to work.”
He was close enough to catch the scent of mint on his breath. “I don’t even like you.” One of her legs lifted and rubbed against one of his.
“I don’t trust you.” His hand moved from her lip to the side of her neck.
“You blackmailed me.”
“You tricked me into cooking with your mother.”
She smiled. “The two hardly compare.”
Instead of dropping his lips to hers, he detoured to the side of her neck and kept talking, his breath brushing her skin. “Have you met your mother?”
“That’s sill—”
His lips found her neck.
She moaned and closed her eyes. Such a deliciously bad idea.
Her head fell back, giving him room to do whatever he wanted.
“Well, well.” Meg’s voice filled the silent kitchen.
Gabi froze.
Hunter’s hand on her neck tightened.
“Your mom is on her way back in. Guess it’s a good thing I came in to warn you.”
Heat swept up Gabi’s throat. “It’s not how it looks,” she managed.
Meg simply laughed and left the room.
Chapter Fifteen
Comfort food and wine . . . lots and lots of wine.
What the hell was he doing? The last thing he needed was to seduce his wife. Had he forgotten the terms of her contract? The part where a child conceived between them would cost him half of everything he’d worked for?
Gabi sat across from him at the dinner table, picking at the food on her plate. Food they’d managed to make together under the watchful eye of the kitchen Nazi.
Meg kept a knowing smile on her face; Val appeared mildly irritated with the tension in the room. It was still midday, a strange time for a large meal, but Hunter ate anyway. The eating had more to do with the fact he’d actually cooked the food, and less to do with hunger. If anyone had told him he’d be cooking pasta from scratch at any time in his life, he would have wagered a six-figure sum against them.
Who knew?
Meg pushed her plate aside. “Not bad for your first attempt.”
My only attempt.
One look at his mother-in-law and Hunter kept his words to himself.
“I don’t think I’ll be applying for a chef position anytime soon,” he said instead.
The first smile from Val flashed on the other man’s face.
“Well,” Mrs. Masini pushed away from the table. “I need a nap.”
When she stood, Hunter moved to help her. Her wrinkled and spotted hand patted his.
“Thank you for teaching me something new,” he told her. “But let’s not do it again anytime soon.”
It wasn’t a real smile . . . more a smirk. “I’m not a young woman. My patience only holds for one lesson a month.”
Good thing she lived an entire country away.
“Gabriella,” Mrs. Masini said. “Walk me to my room.”
Gabi moved to her mother’s side and took her arm. She offered a coy glance over her shoulder before walking away.
Instead of burning under the microscope of Meg and Val, he said, “I’d like to make a few calls.”
“All the phones on the island are operable.”
Hunter was certain they were . . . and traceable, too. “My contacts are in my phone.”
Val stood, retrieved his jacket. “You can use my office.”
They walked into the heat of the Keys. Hunter followed Val to a golf cart, the only form of transportation on the island.
“You survived my mother. I have to give you points for that, Blackwell. I didn’t think you’d follow through.”