Page 18 of 7 Days and 7 Nights

“What’re you eating?”

Olivia stopped in mid chew. He waited patiently while she swallowed and then took a sip of her Diet Coke. She dabbed delicately at the corner of her mouth with her napkin, as if she were dining in a five-star establishment.

“Peanut butter and jelly. I made an extra sandwich if you’re hungry.”

“That’s what you’re having for dinner?”

“Um-hmm.”

“Peanut butter and jelly.”

“That’s right.”

“For dinner.”

“Yep.” She dropped the last bite into her mouth, chewed it thoroughly, and swallowed. “Is this a problem for you?”

“No. I’ve just never met anyone over the age of ten who would consider that an actual meal.”

“And I suppose you’re a connoisseur?”

"Well, I know the difference between PB&J and...dinner. But if your taste buds are willing to settle, who am I to criticize?”

“Who indeed?”

“So, is this what you eat every night, or are Monday nights special?”

“What are you, the food police?” She dabbed once more at her mouth and then got up to throw her napkin away, erasing all evidence of her meal.

Matt shrugged. “I’d just hate to see you waste away on my watch.”

Olivia went to the pantry and pulled out a bag of chocolate chip cookies. He watched as she removed one cylinder, opened the plastic casing, and took out three cookies. Replacing the bag, she moved over to the counter, munching happily. “I’m hardly wasting away. And I’m sure even you have heard of comfort food. Lots of people like to eat foods that remind them of their childhoods.”

“Not me. I prefer my comforts grown-up. And without chocolate chips." He winked – just in case she hadn’t caught his meaning.

She bit daintily into a cookie and ignored him. Pointedly.

Undaunted, Matt began to assemble ingredients for his dinner. From the fridge, he pulled wrapped packages containing paper-thin medallions of veal and sliced mushrooms. From the case of wine, he selected a Barolo and pulled two wine glasses out of the cupboard.

Olivia finished the final chocolate chip cookie and slid onto a barstool.

“Can I pour you a glass?”

“You’re going to drink before you go on the air?”

“Absolutely.”

“But...”

“But what? I have roughly three and a half hours until I go on, I don’t have to drive to work, and I’m not planning to operate any heavy machinery.”

“But...”

“We don’t have any heavy machinery here, do we?”

She studied him from beneath spiky lashes. Her eyes were a lovely shade of green flecked with tiny shards of hazel. And they were not amused.

Since she hadn’t exactly refused, Matt poured a generous glass of wine for both of them and set hers in front of her. He swirled the heavy red liquid and sniffed appreciatively before taking a satisfying sip of his own. Then he started to cook.

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