more annoying, more inconvenient.” She set the mug down, stretched out, feeling comfortable in way she hadn’t for years. Except for him, except for sex, heavy as ash in the atmosphere.
“Hell! Not very angelic, right? I’m not good in relationships with men as it is, how would I ever deal with a cherub man? Who would ever even know how?”
My mother knows.
She scowled. Bad mind-snooping cherub.
Should I slice the strawberries?
Not yet. Coming.
You will, he teased.
“God! This is horribly ridiculous,” she grouchily muttered, rising. “I suppose I should be celebrating. Some younger man wants me.” Sedona walked inside the kitchen.
“Wow. Is this the same place? You do good work in the power department. And in the manifesting department. Even the butter looks like the right temperature.”
“Butter instead of shortening. Mind snooping is beneficial,” he naughty crooned.
“That’s what the New World Order would have us all believe.”
Aware of him behind her, watching, Sedona stirred up her shortcake ingredients from memory. “Hope you like the biscuit type, cherub.”
“Yes. What oven temperature?” he asked.
She swore joy owned his voice box.
“We’ll try 350.” Sedona began spoon-dropping the mixture on the cookie sheet. As he opened the oven door, she placed the sheet in, then turned. His silvery dark purple eyes beheld her, and held her hypnotized to him.
“The bowl is in the freezer for the whipped cream, Sedona.”
“Whipped cream could be a carnal dangerous subject between us.”
He smiled slowly, cherub wickedly. “A little devil in the angel,” he answered her thought. “And a little angel in every devil. The way of the universe, the grand design.”
“And here, it all seems crazily perverted.” Sedona paused, remembering to breathe. “What kind of cream did you get from the etheric market?”
“Bovine, pure. And wildflower honey,” he tempted, defying her dislike of his ‘mind invasion’.
“Good.” She could soar in his eyes. “Let me check the bowl.” He stepped aside when she moved toward the freezer. “Did you remember the hand mixer?” Sedona laughed. The whole mixer was in the freezer. “You didn’t quite read me well enough,” she teased, pulling it out. “Only the beaters.”
“That’s an extra step,” he defended. “Chilled the bowl and the beaters before I put them in.”
“Am I going to chill burn my fingers if I touch the bowl?”
He reached in for the stainless steel deep bowl. “I’ll pour the cream in.”
“I am the mistress of whipping cream with the magic beaters. Or I used to be.”
“Half full?”
“Very good, my cherub assistant.” Sedona happily set her beaters in the rich cream, then switched on high. She watched the cream swirl through rhythmically until it gradually thickened. Just before the cream peaked, she stopped, picked up the bear container of honey. “Never measure,” she murmured, pouring in the amber circles.
Switching the mixer on high again, she watched amber join with the pure whiteness of the cream. It didn’t take long for the cream to stiffen into peaks. She dipped a finger in, tasting. “Little more honey.” After drizzling it in, she turned the mixer on low, just blending.
“Freezer door, please. Then you can lick a beater. Not me,” she added, and frowned at his lusting expression.
Gentlemanly, he opened the freezer. Sedona slid the bowl inside. Pivoting, she opened the oven door, and checked. “Almost done.” As she turned, he held out one of the beaters.
“Lick,” he dared.
Her shyness battled with her daredevil red nature. Sedona licked, then slowed to sensual, her tongue performing a striptease of the cream for him.
“You bring out the worst in me.” She whirled back to the oven, and took out the tray. “Has to cool,” she muttered, placing the drop shortcake on a rack he’d set out. “Actually, I’ve never done that before. But don’t dare an older woman and expect to
“Hell! Not very angelic, right? I’m not good in relationships with men as it is, how would I ever deal with a cherub man? Who would ever even know how?”
My mother knows.
She scowled. Bad mind-snooping cherub.
Should I slice the strawberries?
Not yet. Coming.
You will, he teased.
“God! This is horribly ridiculous,” she grouchily muttered, rising. “I suppose I should be celebrating. Some younger man wants me.” Sedona walked inside the kitchen.
“Wow. Is this the same place? You do good work in the power department. And in the manifesting department. Even the butter looks like the right temperature.”
“Butter instead of shortening. Mind snooping is beneficial,” he naughty crooned.
“That’s what the New World Order would have us all believe.”
Aware of him behind her, watching, Sedona stirred up her shortcake ingredients from memory. “Hope you like the biscuit type, cherub.”
“Yes. What oven temperature?” he asked.
She swore joy owned his voice box.
“We’ll try 350.” Sedona began spoon-dropping the mixture on the cookie sheet. As he opened the oven door, she placed the sheet in, then turned. His silvery dark purple eyes beheld her, and held her hypnotized to him.
“The bowl is in the freezer for the whipped cream, Sedona.”
“Whipped cream could be a carnal dangerous subject between us.”
He smiled slowly, cherub wickedly. “A little devil in the angel,” he answered her thought. “And a little angel in every devil. The way of the universe, the grand design.”
“And here, it all seems crazily perverted.” Sedona paused, remembering to breathe. “What kind of cream did you get from the etheric market?”
“Bovine, pure. And wildflower honey,” he tempted, defying her dislike of his ‘mind invasion’.
“Good.” She could soar in his eyes. “Let me check the bowl.” He stepped aside when she moved toward the freezer. “Did you remember the hand mixer?” Sedona laughed. The whole mixer was in the freezer. “You didn’t quite read me well enough,” she teased, pulling it out. “Only the beaters.”
“That’s an extra step,” he defended. “Chilled the bowl and the beaters before I put them in.”
“Am I going to chill burn my fingers if I touch the bowl?”
He reached in for the stainless steel deep bowl. “I’ll pour the cream in.”
“I am the mistress of whipping cream with the magic beaters. Or I used to be.”
“Half full?”
“Very good, my cherub assistant.” Sedona happily set her beaters in the rich cream, then switched on high. She watched the cream swirl through rhythmically until it gradually thickened. Just before the cream peaked, she stopped, picked up the bear container of honey. “Never measure,” she murmured, pouring in the amber circles.
Switching the mixer on high again, she watched amber join with the pure whiteness of the cream. It didn’t take long for the cream to stiffen into peaks. She dipped a finger in, tasting. “Little more honey.” After drizzling it in, she turned the mixer on low, just blending.
“Freezer door, please. Then you can lick a beater. Not me,” she added, and frowned at his lusting expression.
Gentlemanly, he opened the freezer. Sedona slid the bowl inside. Pivoting, she opened the oven door, and checked. “Almost done.” As she turned, he held out one of the beaters.
“Lick,” he dared.
Her shyness battled with her daredevil red nature. Sedona licked, then slowed to sensual, her tongue performing a striptease of the cream for him.
“You bring out the worst in me.” She whirled back to the oven, and took out the tray. “Has to cool,” she muttered, placing the drop shortcake on a rack he’d set out. “Actually, I’ve never done that before. But don’t dare an older woman and expect to
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