Page 29 of Should Have Been Me

My lips spread into a smile as a snort of laughter rattled up my throat. “You’re ridiculous,” I said with a good-natured shake of my head. “Come on in. You’re right on time. Dinner is ready.”

He stepped across the threshold, and I didn’t miss the way his head turned from side to side, taking everything in as he slipped the jacket off his arms and folded it over the back of my couch. “It smells good in here.”

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t have to sound so surprised about it. Not to brag or anything, but I’m a pretty decent cook. My mom made sure of that.”

I thought I caught a hint of interest in his eyes as he looked at me. “She taught you to cook?”

“Yep. Starting as soon as I was old enough to reach the stove. I helped her with dinner most nights. I’m not good enough to open my own restaurant or anything, but I know my way around a kitchen well enough that I’m not stuck eating the same five meals every week or living on takeout.” I led him into the kitchen and grabbed the oven mitt I’d discarded earlier so I could take the garlic bread out of the oven. “I hope you like lasagna. I didn’t think about asking if you have any food allergies. Sorry about that.”

“No allergies. And I like lasagna just fine.”

I looked over my shoulder and smiled as I used a bread knife to slice the flaky bread into symmetrical slices, only to have the air squeezed out of my lungs when I caught his eyes lingering on my ass before they flicked up to my face. He was checking me out. No doubt about it. I whipped back around quickly, hoping he didn’t notice that my cheeks were most likely the color of raspberry filling as I transferred the bread into a pretty little basket I found at one of the stands at the local farmer’s market a couple years back.

He stepped closer, coming up beside me. “Is there anything I can help with?”

I cleared the frog out of my throat, ducking my head as I worked to shield my burning cheeks from view. “Um, y-yeah.” I pointed at the stack of plates and silverware I’d pulled out earlier. “If you could set the table and put the lasagna on the hot pad I placed in the middle that would be great.”

I felt his arm brush against my back as he moved past me, despite having plenty of room in the kitchen to prevent that, and had to bite down on my bottom lip to keep from smiling. While he moved into the dining area, I rushed to the fridge and yanked it open, sticking my overheated face into the cold box in the hope of cooling my skin down before I gave myself away.

“Get it together,” I whispered to myself. “He’s just some guy, and this isn’t a real date.”

“Anything else I can do?”

I let out a squeak at the sound of his voice, jumping in fright and banging my elbow on the shelf holding my coffee creamer and milk. “Ow, damn it!”

“You okay?”

I shook my arm out and pasted on a smile as I grabbed the salad bowl and turned around. “Yep. I’m great. Just getting the salad.” My gaze darted away from his, but not before I caught the arch in his brow that told me he knew I was full of shit. “Would you mind grabbing the bread?”

With the basket in hand, he followed me into the dining area right off the living room. I’d already set out a bottle of wine and wineglasses, as well as water before he arrived. “If you don’t want wine or water, I’ve got beer and iced tea.”

“Wine is fine. Thank you.”

We sat down, silence descending on us as we plated our food. It was starting to feel awkward when Vaughn surprised me by cutting the tension and asking, “That demon cat of yours isn’t going to attack me again, is it?”

I shot him a murderous look. “Smoosh isn’t a demon cat. And no, she’s in a pretty good mood today, so I’d say you’re safe.”

He added a helping of salad to his plate before doing the same to mine without me having to ask. The move certainly didn’t make my heart flutter. Not one damn bit.

15

JOLIE

Ikept telling myself my skin didn’t tingle with awareness of his close proximity, but the voice in the back of my head was cackling and calling me a dirty liar. At some point, he’d cuffed the sleeves of his shirt, putting his forearms on display, and it was proving very difficult to keep from drooling at the sight of the thick, corded muscles that ran from his wrists to his elbows. What was worse was how his bicep strained every time he bent his arm to take a drink, testing the tensile strength of the seams, or how his throat worked on a swallow. When the hell did a man’s throat become a turn-on? Had I really been out of the game that long?

“Its temperament is probably due to the fact you named it Smoosh. What in the world possessed you to do that?” he asked, snapping me out of my ogling.

I let out a laugh, unable to find it in myself to be insulted. I knew it was a ridiculous name for a cat, but it worked, so I went with it. “First of all, it is actually a she. And what possessed me was her face,” I answered as I grabbed a slice of garlic bread and passed the basket to Vaughn. “She has the cutest little smoosh face.”

“Hmm. Must have missed that when she was trying to claw me to death and smother me at the same time.”

“She was having a particularly bad day,” I defended. “Anyway, I kept calling her smoosh face, so I just decided to make it her name.”

“Poor cat,” he muttered drily before forking off a corner of his lasagna and popping it into his mouth.

I waited, trying not to hold my breath as he chewed slowly and swallowed. Finally, when he remained silent and blank-faced for too long, I couldn’t take it any longer. “Well? What do you think?”

He sipped his water with that damn arched brow. “Think of what?”

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