Loving Bailey (7 page)

She swallowed hard in anticipation as he led
her by the hand into the cottage and to the kitchen. He settled her
onto one of the bar stools and set about opening the wine with the
proficiency of someone who’d had plenty of practice.

He handed her a full glass of syrah and
waited for her to take a sip before he leaned across the counter to
kiss her again, drinking the wine from her lips. Every nerve in her
body was alive and humming with pleasure. Just when she’d start to
come back to something closer to normal, he would touch her or look
at her like he planned to devour her and her nerves would zing to
life again.

“Okay,” he said, hanging a Kiss the Cook
apron which must have come with the cottage around his neck. “Tell
me what to do.”

The man was adorable and sexy as hell.
Do
me
, Bailey thought, taking a big swallow of the peppery
wine.

“You don’t have to cook,” she said. “I don’t
mind helping.”

“Not tonight,” he said. “You took me to town
and showed me around today. Tonight I’ve got you right where I want
you – enjoying yourself while I take care of you.”

He planted a quick kiss on her lips but
before she could tangle her fingers in his hair the way she wanted
to, he pulled back and turned toward the refrigerator

“Okay. How about the lamb? And I want to try
that goat cheese we got.” He carried the white paper wrapped
package of meat along with sugar peas, greens and a small tub of
chevre to the counter. “What can we do with this?”

“What about chevre quenelles on dressed
mesculin to start and then pan seared lamb with a fresh herb
remoulade and sugar peas with browned butter?”

“Awesome, but I don’t know what quenelles
are?”

“It’s just the shape of the cheese. I can
show you how to make them. And give me the peas.” He scowled at her
and she laughed. “I’ll string them while you do the rest. You can
still be the cook.”

“Damn right,” he said. “And I don’t need any
help with dessert.”

The look he gave her let her know exactly
what – or who – he planned to have for dessert. Her face flushed
and her heart threatened to beat its way out of her chest. She took
another swallow of her wine and managed a smile over the rim of her
glass.

“I can’t wait,” she said. His answering smile
was so genuine and filled with so much heat, she felt her stomach
tighten in anticipation.

“What’s first?”

“Go ahead and grab the fresh herbs and the
olive oil. You can start the marinade for the lamb and the dressing
for the greens.” Bailey reached across the counter and pulled the
bag of peas to her. While Spencer gathered the other ingredients,
she started pinching the stem end off the peas and pulling away the
long string.

“Is this it?” He held up one of the bundles
summer savory and a small bunch of thyme.

“That’s it. Just chop the savory, strip the
thyme and run a knife through it.”

She went back to stringing the peas. When she
looked up a moment later, Spencer was standing, knife poised over
the cutting board, a pile of wacked up savory on one side and the
thyme untouched on the other. He glanced up and saw her watching
him. His face split in the sheepish grin which managed to make him
look even sexier.

“Need some help?” she asked, resting her chin
on her hand and running her thumb over her bottom lip.

His gaze followed the movement of her thumb,
back and forth over the tender skin, and just because she could –
because she’d never really done anything that brazen before – she
bit the tip of her thumb and watched his blue eyes go dark with
hunger.

“I’m not sure,” he swallowed hard, “how to
strip the thyme.”

The power of having a man sexually attracted
to her was a heady feeling and something Bailey was pretty sure she
could get used to. She hopped off of the stool, a little surprised
at how much she was feeling the wine.

“Let me help,” she said making her way around
the counter. “Just help,” she said when his forehead creased. “I
promise not to take over.” She moved in next to him, close enough
to smell the almost anise scent of the bruised savory and feel the
hot brush of his hip against hers. “Like this.” She picked up one
of the stems of thyme and ran it through her fingers, stripping it
of its tiny leaves.

The spicy scent added itself to the mix and
beside her, she felt Spencer inhale.

“My God, that smells good already.” He
grabbed a stem of thyme and mimicked her movements, but he only
managed to pull off the tip.

He looked so confused, she laughed and
reached for his hands. “Here, turn it around this way.” She flipped
the stem and showed him how to pull his fingers in the opposite
direction of the way the leaves grew. The pile of tiny leaves grew
on the cutting board. They worked side by side, her stems stripped
completely clean while his held onto about a quarter of their
leaves.

“Show off,” he said, looking from her pile of
bare stems to his bunch.

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” She stood on
tiptoe so she could press a kiss to his cheek. “Professional
advantage.”

Before she could move away, he caught her,
spinning her around so her back pressed against the countertop. He
bent and kissed her, moving her lips apart with his teeth and
tongue, demanding she let him in.

Her hands fisted in the smooth cotton of his
shirt and he cupped her face with fingers that smelled liked thyme.
She breathed in the heady scent of herbs and the warm rich scent of
man. Melting into him with each teasing, tasting caress, Bailey
pressed her hips into his and felt the evidence of his arousal,
long and hard against her stomach.

Just as she was ready to tell him to forget
about dinner and take her to bed, he pulled away. She stumbled on
her heels, struggling to catch her breath.

“Just evening things up,” he said, sounding
breathless himself. “Professional advantage and all.”

He reached past her for the bottle and she
watched his hand shake as he refilled the wine glasses. She looked
from his hands to his face and back again making sure he saw her do
it.

“How did that work?” she said with a
smile.

“There may have been a flaw in my plan,” he
said.

She laughed, reaching for her wine. “Run the
knife through the thyme to release some of the oils.” She took a
healthy swallow of the wine to steady her racing heart.

While he finished with the herbs, she looked
in the cabinets for bowls for the dressing and marinade. She found
them on the top shelf of the third cabinet she opened and was
stretching up to reach them when she felt Spencer’s arms around
her.

“This time, I can help you,” he said, his
breath warm against her ear.

He ran his hands up the sides of her body,
barely brushing the outsides of her breasts. A path of nerves
sprang to life in the wake of his touch and when his fingertips
traced their way up the bare skin of her arms, her flesh pebbled
with goose bumps. He caught her hands, holding them in place
against the cabinet and she felt his body warm and strong along her
back.

She arched her back, pressing her butt into
his groin and was rewarded when his hands clenched over hers.

“If we don’t stop,” he said, nipping at the
tender skin behind her ear, “we aren’t going to make it to
dinner.”

He paused and she thought,
this is where I
say it.
I am a virgin. Odd for someone my age, I know. But
you could help me with it.
He leaned against her, fitting the
hard length of his erection against the cleft of her butt.
Yes,
he could definitely help
.

She opened her mouth, but she couldn’t make
the words come out.

He gave her neck a quick nuzzle and then
reached above her for the set of mixing bowls. Before she could
make her mouth work, he turned back to the counter and starting
unwrapping the lamb.

Wait, wait, wait
. But she still
couldn’t seem to make a sound and Spencer was standing by the
cutting board, looking expectant.

Bailey forced her legs to move and followed
Spencer back to the counter and her wine. She took a swallow,
letting the fruity, peppery taste fill her mouth and give her a
moment to collect herself.

“What do I do with these?” he said, holding
up the beautiful grass fed lamb chops they’d found at the market.
If he was disappointed that she’d accidentally decided not to skip
dinner, he didn’t show it.

“Put a handful of the herbs in the bowl and
drizzle in some of the olive oil. I’ll grab the lemon.” She got the
lemon out of the refrigerator and dug around in the drawers until
she found a grater which would work to zest it.

“Okay, but now go sit down,” he said, making
shooing motions with his hands. “I’ve got this.”

She smiled and arched an eyebrow at him.
“Really?”

“Mostly. You can still tell me what to do.
Just do it from over there so you can’t distract me.”

He shook a lamb chop at her and Bailey
laughed, breaking any remaining tension.

“Fine.” She watched him over the rim of her
glass as he squeezed the juice of half a lemon into the bowl and
then struggled with the grater to get just the zest and none of the
pith. It was obvious he didn’t cook, but his hands were strong and
sure and as she sipped her wine and watched him, she wondered what
it would feel like to have those masculine hands on her. She knew
from experience how soft and tender his touch could be, but looking
at him now, she imagined his hands could be firm and even a little
rough if she wanted. Oh and God, she wanted.

“Bailey.”

The sound of her name brought her out of her
lust filled day dream.

“I’m sorry. What?” She shook her head to
clear it and looked up to find him watching her.

“I asked if the dressing was like the
marinade.” He glanced down at her almost empty glass. “We need to
get some food in you.”

“I’m okay. It won’t take long for the lamb to
cook.”

“I should have gotten something for an
appetizer, but unless you want some of those orange cheese crackers
sandwiches with the peanut butter inside, we’re out of luck.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll wait. And yes, you
can make the dressing like you did the marinade.”

She sipped and watched as he repeated the
process he’d used to make the marinade, whisking it together after
he’d added olive oil and the juice from the other half of the
lemon. He dipped a spoon into the dressing and held it to her lips
for her to taste.

With exaggerated slowness she licked the
spoon, tasting the clean, green taste of the lemon and herbs. When
she glanced up, she caught him staring at her mouth. She ran her
tongue over her bottom lip and watched his nostrils flare and his
eyes go dark.

“Ready?”

God yes, she was ready. She’d been ready for
years, but she was pretty sure he meant the dressing.

“Salt,” she said with a suddenly dry mouth.
“It needs a little salt.”

She’d never survive. If they kept ramping up
the sexual tension between them, she was going to have a heart
attack and die a virgin. She drained the last of her wine and
reached for the bottle, topping off Spencer’s glass before she
poured the last half glass into hers.

He dressed the baby greens, tossing them in
the bowl to coat them before dividing them between two plain white
plates.

“Okay, I’m at the quenelle part.”

She slid off the stool, bracing a hand
against the countertop, and he frowned at her.

“I can’t explain it. I have to show you,” she
said, walking carefully to his side. “Don’t worry. You can still be
the cook.”

She grabbed four spoons and handed two to
him. Her legs might be a little unsteady but her hands knew exactly
what to do. She’d made so many quenelles in culinary school,
practicing over and over until she produced perfect uniform
footballs of soft cheese or ice cream. She could do it in her
sleep.

“It’s easy,” she said, scooping a small clump
of cheese with the side of her spoon. Holding a spoon in each hand,
she worked the chevre back and forth until it formed the familiar
football and then nestled it into the dressed greens. “Okay, you
try.”

Spencer took his spoon and dug it into the
cheese, but when he tried to mimic Bailey’s back and forth pass, he
ended up smearing the soft chevre all over the fronts and backs of
the spoons.

“Well that’s not right,” he said, looking
completely puzzled and so sexy Bailey couldn’t help standing on
tiptoe to kiss and nip at the skin just under his jaw.

He’d shaved before she got there, but she
could feel the start of his five o’clock shadow with her lips even
though she couldn’t see it yet. She took a moment to run her nose
and mouth along his jaw and breathed in the spicy scent of his
cologne.

“Give me a minute and I’ll do it wrong again
if it gets me that kind of reaction,” he said.

“Here, let me in,” she said, nudging his arm
so she could duck under it and settle herself in front of him at
the counter.

“Definitely messing it up again,” he said
encircling her with his arms and fitting his body along her
back.

She smiled at him over her shoulder and he
bent to slant his mouth on hers. She gave herself to him, parting
her lips, arching her back and pushing her hips into his groin. Her
breasts felt hot and aching and she wanted his mouth on her more
than she’d ever wanted anything.

“Jesus, Bailey,” he said, his voice rough
with need. “Make the damn cheese things, please, so we can get
dinner out of the way and I can take you to bed.”

This is where she would say it
. I’ve never
actually been with a man before – not the whole way – but good God
I want to with you
. But she couldn’t make the words come out,
so she nodded instead, and then made quenelles with a speed and
precision which would have made even her strictest teacher
proud.