Page 61 of Enchanted Hero
“I like to take care of people.” He stepped closer, showing no remorse as he once more infiltrated her space. “It’s my job.”
“It’s not your job to care for me.” She lifted her chin, yet he didn’t respond, a clear response in itself. As desire surged once more, she resisted the urge to shorten the space between them. She had to leave before she did something she’denjoyfar too much.
Without another word, she pivoted, striding ahead through a breathtaking residence that played stark reminder of the differences between them. He followed closely, traversing one exquisite room after the next, furnished with antiques, paintings and valuables, stopping just outside a dining room large enough for a state dinner. A huge floor to ceiling window showed a sun halfway across the sky. “I’d better go.”
He gave an easy nod, which elicited a ridiculous amount of disappointment. “I’ll lead you through the dining room.” She followed him through the elaborate portal, yet stopped steps into the cavernous room.
Golden platters held a feast to feed a hundred. The gourmet dishes rivaledBon Appétit’sluscious fare, masterpieces including brioche French toast covered in juicy strawberries, fluffy scrambled eggs, perfectly roasted potatoes and thick blueberry pancakes, garnished with brilliant purple orchids. Their savory aromas scented the room, combining with the mouth-watering flavors of fresh cakes and coffee. “Where did all this come from?”
He waved his hand at the extensive buffet, his nonchalance more appropriate for a cereal bar withtwoflavors of oatmeal. “Several friends are coming over. My chef put a little something together.”
“A little something? It looks like you’re serving a royal wedding, and not from a small country. How many guests are you expecting?”
He shrugged. “People come and go all day.”
Alexander possessed a vast network of family, friends and business associates, but this was not the sort of meal you offered for anything less than a special occasion. “Is this how you’ve been successful? Tempt everyone with food?”
He didn’t deny it. “Don’t feel obligated to try anything. I know you have to go home. Something about washing your hair, right?”
She should give a smart-ass response and walk out, but the scent of freshly baked muffins beckoned her, and her stomach growled a command to stay. “This is the same chef as yesterday? The one who made dinner on the yacht?” In a night of murky memories, she remembered the savory meal. And the kiss. Well, mostly the kiss.
“That’s right.”
Her stomach growled louder, threatening retribution should she walk away from this spread for theoneflavor of oatmeal at her apartment. “Perhaps I’ll stay for just a little bit, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course,” he said smoothly.
And just like that he triumphed.Again.
Alexander lifted two gleaming porcelain plates from a tall stack and handed one to her. She traced the engraved edges of an intricate family crest. “This is beautiful. Does it represent your family?”
“It does.” He grasped a pair of ornate silver tongs and placed a thick pancake on each plate. “We’re very proud of our origins.”
She peered closer at the heavy dinnerware. Unique symbols swirled in circular patterns, flanking a coat of arms intertwined with mythical creatures. It was gorgeous and stunning, and she’d never seen anything like it. “I’ve researched genealogy, but I don’t recognize these symbols. Where does your family originate?”
“All over really.” He scooped a hearty portion of potatoes onto each dish. “It’s a bit complicated to research.”
“I can help you if you’d like,” she offered.
“I appreciate it. Perhaps another time.” Yet his tone conveyed no true interest, and another time would likely be never. Suspicion rose anew, emboldened by the mystery surrounding Alexander Stone.
After filling the plates with a sample of nearly all the dishes, he led her to a table for two, already set with gleaming silverware. Always the gentleman, he held out a chair for her, before sitting down. She lifted one of the forks artfully placed on the gold-threaded linen and pierced a small piece of steaming French toast. She took a bite.
Perfection.The fluffy delicacy was hot and sweet as it melted in her mouth. Creamy butter moistened it, powdered sugar adding the ideal amount of sweetness. She took another bite and another, until somehow she’d eaten the entire slice with barely a breath.
“I take it you approve?”
She wiped her mouth with a delicate lace napkin. “I take back what I said earlier. Someone definitely has magic in this house.”
He started. “I’m sorry?”
“This–” She pointed to her plate. “Is magic.”
“Ah.” He relaxed. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Like isn’t the word.” She took another bite, this time of crispy, perfectly-seasoned potatoes. “If I can’t steal your chef, I might come over for all my meals.”
She expected a joking denial, instead got a rather serious, “Excellent idea.”
