Page 36 of This Time I'm Keeping You
“Me either, which is good, because you and I are ending up in bed.But first, I need to feed you.Are you hungry?”
“A bit, and no, we’re not,” she said as calmly as she could manage.“I’m not getting naked with a man I barely know, and besides, I’ve got injuries.”
“You know me, Poppy, and I’ll do all the work,” he said with a sinful smile.“But you’re right, not tonight.“Do you like enchiladas.”
“I-ah…” The switch in conversation threw her briefly, but she rallied.“You can cook?”
“That shock in your voice is sexist, Poppy.Men cook, and well.”
“Men, yes, but I never expected you to be one of those.”
His sigh was loud.
“Sorry, it will take time to think of you as nice Nick and not asshole Nick.
“I forgive you.”
“Me too,” she whispered.
“Good.Want to kiss again to seal it?”His smile was lecherous.
“No, I don’t,” she lied, stepping out of his reach.
“Want me to rub some of my mother’s favorite healing balm on your ouchies?”
“Ha-ha, no, thank you.”
“Sure?”He waggled his eyebrows.
“Your kitchen has a lot of appliances,” Poppy said, changing the subject.
“The women in my family like to spend my money, and insisted I needed every last one.Plus, I like to eat, so I learned to cook—and to cook well you need appliances.”
She watched as he plated up the enchiladas.“Come on.”He nodded to the door she’d just walked through.
Poppy followed and was soon sitting at the small table in his dining area.Her first mouthful told her he knew how to make enchiladas.
“Good?”
She nodded.
“Tell me about what you’ve been up to since college, Poppy, other than becoming a best-selling author.”
“I thought I wanted to be a lawyer and enjoyed the work for a while.Then I started writing this story one day that had been rolling around in my head for months.It took me a year because I wasn’t doing it full time, and then I paid to get it edited using my savings.I published and did well, so I wrote another one, and the rest is history.I stopped being a lawyer and became a writer.”
“I’m sure there is a bit more to that,” Nick said.
“Maybe, but the rest is boring.”
His phone rang, and as it was in the kitchen, he got up to answer it.Poppy began to stack their plates one-handed; he was back before she could take them to the sink.
“Sit,” he said in a hard voice.
One look in his eyes, and she knew he was angry again.
“What’s happened?”Poppy dropped back into her chair.
“Malcolm Davy’s fingerprints are all over your place.”
