Page 62 of Chance of Romance
Chapter Fourteen
Logan marveled over Sabrina. Now that she was being real with him, she was passionate with a snarky sense of humor. She didn’t hesitate to push back at him, asserting what she wanted, so he didn’t have to worry about steamrolling her. They had a real give-and-take, even better than their friendship, because now that she wasn’t acting the cool reserved professional, being more herself, they were on equal footing. Actually, she had the upper hand, though she didn’t know it, because he was way into her. The sex was amazing, she cooked like a gourmet, and the more he got to know her, the more he liked her. It scared him a little how much he felt so fast. He tried to rationalize it—maybe she was his rebound, maybe it was the fake marriage that promised a commitment that wasn’t actually there. Whatever the reason, he couldn’t deny he felt something…deep.
They’d had a blast sightseeing. He’d played tour guide, and when he’d realized how much she was enjoying herself, he dropped his two-hour decree and spent the whole day out with her. They’d moved freely through the city, no one bothering them, in their own happy bubble.
When they got back to Claire’s house, Sabrina cooked him a fantastic dinner with no recipe. Thinly sliced beef with basil, angel hair pasta, and salad. He even ate the salad because she put all these tasty things in it, toasted almond slivers and pear slices with a homemade dressing.
Now he leaned back from the table, full and satisfied. “I still can’t believe you made all this without a recipe. You should’ve been a chef.”
She smiled. “I enjoy cooking. After you do it enough, you get a feel for what goes together and how long to cook stuff.”
“I can barely cook a frozen pizza.”
She laughed. “I’m sure you can do more than that.”
“So you eat like this all the time? Gourmet cooking?”
“It’s not gourmet. I save that for special occasions. Those meals take more time, as they should. Good things come to those who wait.”
He reached across the table and took her hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles. Her lips parted, her gaze on her hand. “Is that your subtle way of saying I need to wait before I seduce you again?”
She shook her head, smiling. “I meant the meal.” She glanced back toward the kitchen. “Though we should probably scrub the pots and pans before everything sticks, and when I say we, I mean you.”
He laughed and gave her hand a squeeze. “Okay, I can take a hint.”
“If I had more ingredients, I would’ve baked you a nice dessert.”
He pressed a hand to his heart. “You bake too?”
She tossed her hair and batted her lashes. “My friends call me a domestic goddess.”
“You totally are.”
“I just find it relaxing. It’s stuff I didn’t have growing up. You know, meals from scratch, a cozy home, so I learned how to make that happen.”
“I grew up in a cozy house, but we never ate this good. Now I’ve got a big house that’s mostly empty.”
“Maybe for you coming from a house crowded with people, you like having all that space.”
He grinned. “I just thought it was because I was too lazy to pick out furniture.”
She laughed. “That too.”
He stood and gathered their dishes, heading to the kitchen. He set them in the sink and ran the water.
Sabrina followed him in. “Do you know how to wash dishes?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Please. You think I’m a heathen?”
“Okay, okay. It’s just that before you put everything in the dishwasher.”
He started loading it. “Yes, but I said I’d scrub the pots and pans, and I will.” He finished loading everything possible into the dishwasher while Sabrina watched. “I got it. You don’t have to supervise me.”
“Watching you do domestic chores gets me hot.”
He barked out a laugh. “I get the feeling you’re using reverse psychology on me, counselor.”
“It really does,” she insisted. “Do the pots and pans.”
