Page 44 of Ten Day Affair
“You looked like someone who could use carbs.”
Her laugh is low and real. “I'm not sure what to think about that. Are you saying I looked like shit?”
"Of course not. That came out wrong. I meant it looked like you'd had a busy day."
"Hmm. I'll let that one pass, but I'm keeping my eye on you."
“Wine?” I gesture toward the table.
She hangs her bag on the back of the chair. “Definitely. I earned it today. The carbs and the wine.”
I pour for both of us and hand her a glass. Her fingers brush mine, just enough to register. She notices it too. Her eyes flick up for half a second before she takes a sip.
We sit.
“So,” she says, looking around. “I have to admit, you outdid yourself. I didn’t expect all this.”
“Didn’t expect what?”
“Well, to start, your house is stunning. I expected that. But you cooking—the delicious smelling bread, the flowers? Nice job.”
“You expected something different?”
She shrugs. “More transactional. You strike me as a reservations-and-escorts kind of guy.”
I laugh. “Wow. Now I’m not sure if I should be flattered or offended.”
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing. Just an efficient one.”
“Efficiency is overrated,” I say, refilling her glass. She takes another long sip, and I can’t decide if that’s about the wine or me.
“Is that so?”
“At least for tonight.”
She studies me over the rim of her glass. “So, what is tonight, exactly?”
I hold her gaze. “Dinner. Like I said, I figured it was asgood a time as any to test out that professional kitchen. I used to cook a lot, and I enjoy it when I can.”
Her eyes narrow slightly, but she doesn’t press. Instead, she tears a piece of bread and pops it into her mouth.
“God, that’s good,” she says around it. “What kind of butter is that?”
“Compound. Garlic, basil, a little lemon zest.”
“Showoff.”
“You’re the surgeon.”
She points her fork at me. “You saw my pecking order in the OR.”
We eat. Not rushed. No filler talk. Just quiet clinks of silverware and the occasional low hum of approval from her side of the table.
When she finishes, she sets her napkin down and leans back.
“I have to admit. I thought you’d be more guarded.”
“You mean cold and soulless?”
