Hero Unmasked: 3 (Heroes of Saturn) by Anna Alexander Page B

all, it was for a good cause and she had other things to worry about, like what to wear and what type of dessert would a superhero enjoy?
    Warm pot de crème smothered over golden skin sounded absolutely decadent, but not for a first date.
    Second date, maybe.

Chapter Four
     
    Twenty seconds.
    Fiona rearranged the plate of tartlets on the table. The lemon chiboust filling was the perfect dessert for a first date. Not too heavy, refreshing and bright, plus the sweet-and-tart cream went well with either red or white wine. And nothing was flakier than her shortbread pie dough. She angled the dish so the light from the chandelier sparkled against the crystal, and looked at the clock on the wall again.
    Only fifteen seconds more had passed? Gah!
    Cam wasn’t late. Not really. 7:32 did not count as late. Each tick of the second hand made it seem like an eternity, but her brain understood it was only nerves making her think she’d been waiting at the ready forever.
    She grabbed a lock of hair and twisted the frizzy ends into some semblance of a curl and took another tour of the first floor. The carpet was freshly vacuumed, the junk mail had been tossed into the recycling and all the dishes were put away. One pair of shoes waited by the door, strategically arranged to look as if thrown without a care. She wanted to appear tidy but not unrealistically neat. It was best not to set too high of an example.
    Maybe she should put the tartlets back into the refrigerator. No, too long in the cold and the tops could turn to rubber. But if she kept them at room temperature any longer the raspberry syrup drizzle might bleed into the cream, making an unappetizing mess.
    Refrigerate. Yes. No. Yes. Ugh.
    A light rap on the sliding glass door drew her up short. For several long seconds she stared at the venetian-blind-covered window as her brain ceased to fire commands. A second knock made her jump and she hurried across the room. Remembering their conversation from the night before, she peeked through the plastic slats instead of whipping open the door. Cam rewarded her with a smile and an approving nod.
    “Woo, it’s cold,” she couldn’t help but shout after she slid the glass open and a frigid breeze blew her hair back. White flakes had begun to fall and dusted the ground like powdered sugar. “Come on in.”
    She slid the door shut then looked up, way up and for the first time in her life felt dainty.
    Holy. Crap.
    The Chameleon was standing in her dining room.
    Yep, there went her cognitive ability. The house could be burning down around them and she wouldn’t notice, or even care. His image blurred as her vision fuzzed out due to lack of oxygen from her frozen lungs. That intense stare of his was a laser beam to her core, sending a tingle of excitement zinging through her bloodstream at the same time it scared her witless.
    Dear Lord, please don’t let me make an ass of myself.
    “Thank you for accepting my invitation,” he said as he withdrew a bottle of wine from the bag tied to his belt. “Especially since I invited myself over. No one knows where I live, and I need to keep it that way at least for now.”
    “Oh, I understand. Please, have a seat.” She gestured to the chair at the head of the table. “Or would you prefer to sit in the living room?”
    “The dining room is fine.” He pointed to the plate. “Fiona, those look wonderful. I haven’t seen tarts like this in your shop. Did you make these for me?”
    Wait, he’d been in her shop? How did she not know this? She meant to ask, but his delighted smile distracted her. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I went with a neutral flavor.”
    “I don’t think you make anything I wouldn’t like. I hope this wine goes well.”
    She took the offered bottle and snapped her teeth together to stop the girlish squeal that threatened to burst forth. “This is my favorite, and I can be picky with my wine. This will be perfect. Let me get us some glasses.”
    “Allow