near the front door. Expansively, she held out her arms still holding the flowers in one hand. “Well? You like it?”
Clutching the sack, he smiled. “Yeah, I’ll be wanting a tour later.”
Scarlet blushed crimson. “God. I’m a moron. Sorry. Come on. Let’s get these things put away.”
Nash followed her through the living room and directly into the dining room. It was a very old fashioned house and big doors were opened wide between the two rooms. Scarlet preferred leaving it all open, he realized. Finally, they made it to the large, homey kitchen.
“Ah, what’s that smell?”
Scarlet motioned to the oak kitchen table and he set down the sack. He watched her glide toward the oven, and yeah, stared at her gorgeous backside, until she flashed him a grin over her shoulder. “That would be homemade cherry cobbler.”
She grabbed two potholders from the countertop and opened the oven door. Heat blasted into the room but then he forgot all about that as he stared at the flaky, golden crust with cherry stuff bubbling all around the edges. Unable to resist, he peeked over her shoulder and inhaled deeply.
“Mmm. You made this?”
Scarlet laughed and set the cobbler aside before smacking him with a flimsy little potholder. “Don’t sound so shocked.”
He held up both hands. “Whoa. I’ve just never known a woman as pretty as you who could actually cook.”
“Hey, our mamas raise us right here in Sweetridge.”
“I can see that.”
While she set the cobbler aside, he went to the sack and started to unload it. Two t-bones were set aside and he pulled out two bottles of wine.
Scarlet’s dark brows lifted. “Two? What are you plannin’ here tonight, cowboy?”
He laughed. “Nothing sinister. I know you’re supposed to have red with steak but some people don’t like it so I bought white, too.”
Scarlet snatched the white from one hand and grinned. “Let’s have a glass of the white now. Unless you’d prefer something else.”
“That’s fine. We’ll have a glass of red with dinner, how’s that?”
“Perfect.”
When she reached into a drawer for a corkscrew, he took it from her. “Let me. It’s the least I can do after you invited me to dinner so sweetly.”
He watched her blush as she was no doubt remembering exactly what they were doing at the time. “Okay. I’ll um…put some rub on the meat. I have a little bar set up against one wall in the dining room. You’ll find some wine glasses there.”
Nash watched her reach into a cupboard for some stuff, so he fetched the glasses and came back in to pour them two glasses of wine. He’d bought it already chilled so it was ready to drink.
Clutching the glasses, he turned and studied her as she worked sprinkling stuff on the steaks. She was as pretty from the back as from the front, he thought, noting the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips beneath her shorts. There was something really sexy about a woman, barefoot and comfortable, puttering around in her own kitchen. When she reached for something on the counter, he saw that her fingers were long and elegant and unlike those cute toes, they were bare of polish.
Walking up, he set the wine down near her and lifted his own glass for a sip. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” She smiled up at him. “While I’m doing this, would you find us some music?”
“No problem.” He carried his glass into the living room, spotted her iPod on a docking station and immediately scrolled through her stash of tunes. His eyes widened at the eclectic mix of country, jazz, rock and oldies. The classic Stones songs and some of Indy pop tunes appealed but in the end, he decided he wasn’t in the mood for rock. Not tonight.
Within moments, smoky jazz slithered through the room as Billie Holiday crooned a seductive song. A wailing sax followed him as he returned to the kitchen. Scarlet stood, back pressed against the kitchen counter, staring off into the distance, a tiny smile on her face, her eyes
Clutching the sack, he smiled. “Yeah, I’ll be wanting a tour later.”
Scarlet blushed crimson. “God. I’m a moron. Sorry. Come on. Let’s get these things put away.”
Nash followed her through the living room and directly into the dining room. It was a very old fashioned house and big doors were opened wide between the two rooms. Scarlet preferred leaving it all open, he realized. Finally, they made it to the large, homey kitchen.
“Ah, what’s that smell?”
Scarlet motioned to the oak kitchen table and he set down the sack. He watched her glide toward the oven, and yeah, stared at her gorgeous backside, until she flashed him a grin over her shoulder. “That would be homemade cherry cobbler.”
She grabbed two potholders from the countertop and opened the oven door. Heat blasted into the room but then he forgot all about that as he stared at the flaky, golden crust with cherry stuff bubbling all around the edges. Unable to resist, he peeked over her shoulder and inhaled deeply.
“Mmm. You made this?”
Scarlet laughed and set the cobbler aside before smacking him with a flimsy little potholder. “Don’t sound so shocked.”
He held up both hands. “Whoa. I’ve just never known a woman as pretty as you who could actually cook.”
“Hey, our mamas raise us right here in Sweetridge.”
“I can see that.”
While she set the cobbler aside, he went to the sack and started to unload it. Two t-bones were set aside and he pulled out two bottles of wine.
Scarlet’s dark brows lifted. “Two? What are you plannin’ here tonight, cowboy?”
He laughed. “Nothing sinister. I know you’re supposed to have red with steak but some people don’t like it so I bought white, too.”
Scarlet snatched the white from one hand and grinned. “Let’s have a glass of the white now. Unless you’d prefer something else.”
“That’s fine. We’ll have a glass of red with dinner, how’s that?”
“Perfect.”
When she reached into a drawer for a corkscrew, he took it from her. “Let me. It’s the least I can do after you invited me to dinner so sweetly.”
He watched her blush as she was no doubt remembering exactly what they were doing at the time. “Okay. I’ll um…put some rub on the meat. I have a little bar set up against one wall in the dining room. You’ll find some wine glasses there.”
Nash watched her reach into a cupboard for some stuff, so he fetched the glasses and came back in to pour them two glasses of wine. He’d bought it already chilled so it was ready to drink.
Clutching the glasses, he turned and studied her as she worked sprinkling stuff on the steaks. She was as pretty from the back as from the front, he thought, noting the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips beneath her shorts. There was something really sexy about a woman, barefoot and comfortable, puttering around in her own kitchen. When she reached for something on the counter, he saw that her fingers were long and elegant and unlike those cute toes, they were bare of polish.
Walking up, he set the wine down near her and lifted his own glass for a sip. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” She smiled up at him. “While I’m doing this, would you find us some music?”
“No problem.” He carried his glass into the living room, spotted her iPod on a docking station and immediately scrolled through her stash of tunes. His eyes widened at the eclectic mix of country, jazz, rock and oldies. The classic Stones songs and some of Indy pop tunes appealed but in the end, he decided he wasn’t in the mood for rock. Not tonight.
Within moments, smoky jazz slithered through the room as Billie Holiday crooned a seductive song. A wailing sax followed him as he returned to the kitchen. Scarlet stood, back pressed against the kitchen counter, staring off into the distance, a tiny smile on her face, her eyes
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