Page 56 of For Love or Money
So she concentrated on kneading and chopping, stirring and tasting, and pumped up the music in her earphones to drown out the negative thoughts that were trying to nudge their way in. Peter’s sons were bound to be suspicious about her motives for marrying their father. Would Rafe have already made up his mind about her, or would he give her the benefit of the doubt? It would be unbearable if they couldn’t get along.
Damn it! As she found her mind straying again, she turned up the volume on her iPod and blasted Lady Gaga in her ears. She forgot her anxiety as she danced around the kitchen, singing along to ‘Just Dance’ as she took a perfectly risen tray of multigrain rolls out of the warming drawer and slid them into the oven. As the song came to an end, she raised her arms above her head, and gave one last full-body shimmy as she spun around – and froze.
Rafe was leaning in the doorway watching her, arms folded, the hint of an amused smile playing around his lips.
‘Oh! Hi!’ Crap! How long had he been standing there? She felt her face heat up as she pulled out the earphones, already feeling at a disadvantage. She’d wanted to be calm and poised when they met, and instead she felt flustered and guilty, as if he’d caught her doing something wrong.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.’
‘I didn’t hear you come in.’ She indicated the earphones dangling from the pocket of her jeans. ‘Have you ... been here long?’
‘Just since the second verse.’ He smiled crookedly as he shifted away from the doorframe. ‘Hi, I’m Rafe,’ he said, extending a hand as he moved towards her.
Stella wiped her hands on her apron. ‘Stella,’ she said. ‘Lovely to meet you.’
‘Likewise.’ His hand was warm and dry as it clasped hers firmly, and he had the sweetest smile that softened his features and creased up the corners of his sea-green eyes. She was familiar with his ruggedly handsome face from movies and magazines, but up close in real life, the full impact of his square-jawed masculine beauty hit her like a physical force that took her breath away. At six foot, Stella wasn’t used to men towering over her, but Rafe was so big and broad, he almost made her feel petite.
‘Well, dinner’s nearly ready,’ she said, waving at the stove behind her.
‘Need any help?’
‘No, thanks. Peter’s in the living room. Why don’t you go in and say hello, and I’ll be with you shortly.’
She sighed with relief when he was gone, glad to have a moment alone to regroup. She didn’t really need to spend any more time tossing the salad or watching the bread rolls bake, but she needed to catch her breath. Rafe taking her by surprise like that had left her feeling off balance. So she spent a few more minutes fiddling with things until she was ready to face him again.
‘This looks great,’Rafe said as they sat down to eat. She had made a pear and walnut salad to start, served with the rolls still warm from the oven.
‘Stella’s a wonderful cook.’ Peter smiled at her proudly. He poured Rafe a glass of wine and set the bottle back on the table.
‘You’re not having any?’ Rafe asked, looking between Peter and Stella.
‘No, we don’t drink. We’re teetotallers!’ Peter told him with a delighted grin, like he was delivering the punchline to the most marvellous joke.
‘Really?’ Rafe raised his eyebrows.
‘Don’t worry, I haven’t had some road to Damascus-style epiphany. It’s doctor’s orders.’
‘So what’s your excuse?’ Rafe asked Stella. ‘Recovering alcoholic? Mormon?’
‘No,’ Peter said, ‘the darling girl’s gone out in solidarity.’
‘It’s fine,’ Stella said. ‘I don’t miss it. I’m better off without it anyway.’
‘Well, I suppose congratulations are in order,’ Rafe said, raising his glass.
‘Thanks,’ Stella said shyly as she and Peter clinked their glasses of sparkling water against his.
‘This is really good,’ Rafe said as they ate.
‘And it’s healthy too!’ Peter said. ‘Stella’s so clever.’ He turned to her. ‘You should have your own cooking show.’
‘Hardly!’ Stella laughed.
‘You should,’ Rafe said, smiling at her. ‘Just you, cooking and dancing. I’d watch.’
Stella blushed and stood up to start clearing away the starter plates, glad of the excuse to escape to the kitchen for a while.
‘So, when’s the big day?’Rafe asked as Stella served the main course – a Mediterranean fish stew, fragrant with herbs and garlic, accompanied by new potatoes.
