Page 68 of Seduce

“I won’t.” He had no intentions of hurting Tessa. He was halfway in love with her. The thought should have scared him, but it didn’t. He was finding Tessa was very different from other women. In a way, perfect for him.

* * * *

Friday evening, Tessa pushed her hair away from her face. Okay, maybe cooking for Damon wasn’t one of her brightest ideas. She barely cooked for herself, and now she was cooking for him. To what? Impress him? Yeah, right. The recipe sounded so easy. Chicken Cordon Bleu. Her first problem had been pounding the chicken thin. She didn’t have a meat mallet or a rolling pin. The recipe said you could use a heavy pot.

She pulled out her biggest pot. Her soup pot. Put the chicken between the sheets of plastic wrap and started smashing it with the pot. After a couple of minutes, she looked at the chicken. It still looked too big. Ugh. She tried again, and again.

Now, that looked better. She looked at the picture in the recipe, okay maybe not as thin as it looked in the picture but good enough. Tessa layered in the ham and Swiss cheese, then rolled. The darn things wouldn’t stay rolled.

“Roll, you bastard. And stay that way.”

Frustrated, she put a toothpick in them and followed the instructions to put them in plastic wrap and refrigerate. While the chicken cooled, she prepared the eggs, flour, and bread crumbs.

She glanced at the clock. Dang, it was already five-thirty. She read the rest of the recipe quickly. This shouldn’t take too long. The timer dinged, and she took the chicken out of the fridge and unwrapped it.

Okay, dredge in flour, then the egg, and then breadcrumbs. She could do that. Except the chicken kept wanting to unroll. And what was she supposed to do with the chicken next? Crap! She forgot to put the oil in the pan.

Washing her hands, she grabbed a pan and poured in some olive oil and turned it on. She hated frying food, but she could do this. She placed the first piece of chicken in and jumped back as oil splattered.

“Damn it.” Tessa blew out a frustrated breath.Okay, let’s get the next one in there.She put the second one in, this time prepared for the splatter. Five minutes, then turn over. She set the timer and put the dishes in the sink.

Next was the sauce. Did they really need it? She decided they didn’t. The timer went off and when she went to turn the chicken it unrolled. “Son of a…” Using a spatula she pulled it out of the pan and put on the cutting board and tried to roll it again.

“Fuck!” She almost burned herself. How the hell was she going to roll this? Her doorbell rang. “Just a second.” She quickly washed her hands and went to the door. “Hey Damon, come in.”

He looked at her, curiosity in his eyes, as the loud screech of the smoke alarm sounded. “Oh shit!” She ran for the kitchen. She’d forgotten about the other piece of chicken. Smoke was coming from the pan. She grabbed it and threw it into the sink and turned on the water, then turned off the burner.

Fresh air wafted into the kitchen, and she saw Damon standing by the window he’d opened. “Dinner?”

Tears sprang to her eyes, and she nodded. “I…” Her voice wobbled. Couldn’t she even cook him a meal?

“Honey.” He enveloped her into his arms as she started to cry.

“I wanted so much to cook you dinner.” Tessa was disappointed in herself. She should have stuck to the basics; instead, she tried to show off. Damon was always cooking for her and made it look so darn easy, and she couldn’t even do a simple chicken recipe.

“It’s okay.” He rubbed her back.

“No, it’s not.” She leaned back in his arms. “That’s what I get for wanting to cook for you. A colossal failure. That’s me.”

His features froze. “There are certain things I won’t tolerate, and you calling yourself names is at the top of that list.”

“But it’s the truth.” She tried to pull out of his arms, but he tightened his hold.

“Tessa,” he started. “You are not a failure. The meal didn’t work for you. It happens.”

“Not to you.”

He laughed. “Trust me, I’ve burned plenty of things.” He leaned down and nuzzled her cheek. “I’ll give you cooking lessons, if it’s that important to you. I’m sure I can light your stove on fire.”

“Stop.” Laugher spilled from her lips. She stepped out of his embrace. “What a mess.”

“What were you trying to make?”

“Chicken Cordon Bleu.”

“What did you use to pound the chicken thin?” He glanced at the counter and the items now soaking in the sink.

“A pot. I don’t have a mallet or rolling pin.”

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