Grill Me, Baby by Sophia Knightly

and followed her, happily noticing the saucy sway of her bottom under the chef’s tunic. Although her figure was slimmer than what he preferred in a woman, his appreciative gaze glided over her toned legs, from her trim calves beneath the knee-length skirt down to her ankles. He wanted to reach out and stroke her bare legs. It gave him a jolt of pure pleasure to imagine how soft they would feel.
    When they reached the kitchen, Paolo placed the bags on the counter.
    “What did you bring?” she asked, eyeing the bags.
    “A few surprises.”
    “You’re just full of them aren’t you?”
    “Of course,” he said cheerfully as he retrieved a bottle of wine from the bag. “Sit down and let me pour us a glass of Chardonnay.”
    “The wine opener is in the drawer in front of you and the glasses are above your head on the wooden rack—where your neck belongs.”
    Paolo burst out laughing, not a reaction Michaela expected, from the look of surprise on her face.
    “I’ll be right back. I have to check on my baby.” Without elaborating further, she headed toward her bedroom.
    Baby? Paolo stared at her retreating back in shock. Michaela couldn’t possibly be so blasé about a baby! Maybe that’s why she was giving him the cold shoulder. If she was a single mother, he had better explain about Claudia ASAP!
    Paolo contemplated how he would broach the subject while he waited for Michaela. She was probably saying good-bye to the nanny, but it was odd she hadn’t said anything to him earlier about having a child. He unpacked the prosciutto-wrapped melon balls he had brought for her and placed them on a plate. He took a small bouquet of wildflowers out of the bag he’d brought and found a crystal vase in one of the cabinets. After filling it with water and the flowers, Paolo set it on the dining room table.
    He had just finished setting the melon balls on the coffee table when Michaela returned wearing a white tank top, black yoga pants and flip-flop sandals.
    She gestured to the dining table on her way to the kitchen. “You brought flowers? Thanks.”
    “My pleasure. Where’s your baby?” Paolo asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow at her empty arms.
    “You’ll meet him in a second. I have to feed him.” Michaela reached into the fridge and pulled out a small Tupperware container. Paolo followed her into the living room where she opened the sliding glass door and stepped out on the balcony.
    “ ¡Hola , Mami! ” a wisecracking voice called out.
    Surprised, Paolo turned toward the source to find a colorful parrot watching him with its head cocked to the side.
    “ Hola , Baby,” Michaela cooed as she reached inside the cage. She took it out and crooned silly endearments as she gently stroked the parrot’s feathers. Paolo had never seen this tender side of her and he liked it—a lot.
    “How’s my little love? Are you hungry?” Her face glowed with affection as she carefully fed the parrot small bits of cut-up apples.
    “Be careful, he might bite you,” Paolo warned, eyeing the bird’s large, black beak suspiciously.
    “Nah, Baby would never do that, would you?” she cooed. “Macaws are very gentle. They’re also smart and sociable. And this one is good company, aren’t you, Baby?” She kissed the top of Baby’s head.
    “Kiss me, baby,” the bird crowed.
    “Do you have any other pets?”
    “I wish I did, but with my schedule I can only handle caring for Baby. What about you?”
    “No pets. I’d like to have a dog, but not with my work hours.”
    “My aunt gave me Baby this year for my thirtieth birthday. It’s typical of her off-beat humor. Aunt Willow is the black sheep of the family, but she’s my favorite aunt.”
    “Why is she your favorite?”
    “She always went to bat for me when I was little and wanted to cook, even though my parents disapproved. Whenever I went to her house, we would bake cookies or make pretty cakes.”
    “Why didn’t your parents want you to cook?” Paolo asked,