Mint Chip Murder: A Donut Hole Cozy Mystery - Book 6 by Susan Gillard

the
temperature, then place each one on a dinner plate.  He removed the lid from a
pan on the stovetop and spooned something on top of each steak.  Finally, he
added a slice of French bread to each plate, and then set hers in front of her
with a flourish.
     
    Sautéed mushrooms topped the meat, the
wine sauce in which they had been marinated mingling with the juices from the
steak.  “Wow,” she said as Ryan took his seat.  “I can’t wait to taste this.”
     
    “Dig in,” he said.  “Let me know if
it’s cooked the way you like it.”
     
    As she sliced off a bite of steak, she
could see just a hint of pink.  “Perfect,” she said.  She raised the fork to
her mouth and let the meat settle on her tongue.  As she began to chew and the
rich savoriness of the combined flavors filled her mouth, she rolled her eyes
heavenward.  “This is so good,” she said.  “I can never cook for you again. 
Nothing I make is anywhere near this good.”
     
    “Should everyone in the world stop
painting because they’re not Monet?” he asked.  “What about all the Renoirs and
Van Goghs?  The world needs their art, too.  It would be a tragedy if they
stopped painting because they couldn’t paint water lilies like Monet could.”
     
    “Point taken,” she said.  “So what
else don’t I know about you?  What other surprises will I find out along the
way?”
     
    “None that I know of,” he said.  “What
you see is what you get.  I’m just a guy with a cat and a taste for beer who
happens to solve mysteries for a living.”
     
    “Don’t sell yourself short,” she
said.  “You’re not ‘just’ an anything.  You’re an amazing guy who makes justice
triumph for a living, and who also happens to be a gourmet chef and look pretty
darn good even in jeans and a t-shirt.”
     
    “So, about that cop thing,” Ryan said,
cutting another bite of his steak.  “You don’t mind dating a cop?  You don’t
mind it when I get called away from a date, or when I have to go to work
instead of spending time with you?”
     
    “I don’t like it,” Heather said.  “But
I don’t resent it.  I know its part of your job.  It’s what you do.  I knew that
before we started dating.  And I admire you for it.”
     
    “Really?”  Ryan’s dark eyes were on
hers.
     
    “Really,” she said.  “I’m proud of you
and what you do.  I’m proud that you’re one of the good guys.  That what you
do, matters.  That you’re good at it.  That people like you are the reason
people like me can sleep peacefully at night.  Yes, I’d like to have more time
together sometimes.  But I wouldn’t wish away anything about you.  It’s part of
what makes you who you are.”
     
    Ryan’s gaze dropped to his plate as he
nodded.  He busied himself cutting another bite of steak as he cleared his
throat.  It seemed like forever before he met her gaze once more.
     
    “Favorite sports team?” he asked,
raising one eyebrow.
     
    “Uh, I don’t really have one.”
     
    “You don’t?  How can you not have a
favorite sports team?”
     
    “The same way you probably don’t have
a favorite interior decorator,” she said.
     
    “Hey, women can like sports, too.  And
guys can decorate their homes.  Look at my house.”  He spread his arms wide,
inviting her to take it all in.  “I have my very own style.  I call it
‘Bachelor Chic.’”
     
    She laughed.  “It works,” she said,
pushing her plate away.  “Ugh, I’m stuffed.  The steak was so delicious I ate
too much.  I may never eat again.”
     
    “Not even if I made a dessert?” Ryan
asked.
     
    Heather groaned.  “What is it?”
     
    “Cheesecake,” he said smugly.  “With
homemade cherry topping.”
     
    “I could not possibly fit a slice of
cheesecake in on top of all this,” she said, patting her flat stomach.  “I’m
too full.  Could we save it for later?”
     
    “Of course,” he said.  “Madame’s wish
is my