I Only Have Eyes for You (The Sullivans #4)(28)

“I had to learn when the cook was sick and no one else was around to do it.”

“I never thought about how hard it must have been to have your own restaurant,” she said, assuming he was talking about buying and operating the first McCann’s Irish Pub.

“Yeah,” he said, “it was crazy knowing that running McCann’s was entirely up to me. Win or lose, I was the guy to blame, but that’s not where I learned to cook. I was ten. My dad was working the taps. I would hang out in the back, wash dishes for quarters. The cook was too drunk to fry up the orders. He passed out in the back and the customers were giving my father trouble. He told me to cook.” Jake transferred the vegetables to a plate, then sliced the pork roast he’d heated up on the plate beside it. “So I cooked.”

How long had she wanted to know something like this about Jake’s life? How long had she dreamed of being close enough to him to actually hear stories of his childhood? Now that the moment had finally come, she was so mad at him. Too mad—and too tired—to really appreciate it.

He slid the plate in front of her and it smelled wonderful. “Standard Irish fare.” There was a hint of defensiveness in his tone. “It’s what I do best.”

That, she knew, was where he was wrong. The food looked amazing, but she already knew what he did best. And while it involved plenty of heat, the kitchen wasn’t the preferred location...and there were a heck of a lot less clothes involved.

“The bed is non-negotiable.”

Over and over his earlier words played in her head, thrumming through her body, making every cell come completely alive, alert with wanting, despite how exhausted she was. She’d already accepted that seven days in close proximity with Jake would make it impossible to guard her hormones. Especially when she now knew exactly how good he could make her feel.

Only this time, she was smart enough to know she needed to guard her heart. No matter what.

Fortunately, the growling of her stomach stole her attention back from how close his bed had to be. She reached for the knife and fork. “Thanks for dinner.”

It wasn’t the most grateful she’d ever sounded, but it was the best she could do for now. Jake would just have to deal with it. But when she took a bite, she couldn’t stop the moan of appreciation coming from her lips.

“You like it?”

He was smiling at her and when she looked up at him, when she saw those dark eyes on her like that, looking so pleased with pleasing her, she lost hold of every thought...lost hold of anything but the sudden, desperate need to feel his mouth on hers again, taking her, possessing her the way he had during their one beautiful night together.

It didn’t help when his smile changed, shifting to an intense look of desire that she was sure mirrored hers exactly.

Somehow she managed to pull herself together enough to say, “It’s great.” She took another bite, hoping that if she kept her mouth stuffed full, she could keep her lips focused on something other than feeling Jake’s pressing against them.

“Good. There’s more if you need it.”

She frowned. “Wait, aren’t you having some?”

He shook his head. “I ate earlier.”

“Oh.” He really had done all of this for her. No man had ever cooked for her before.

Then again, no man had ever knocked her up, either. She supposed rustling up a meal was the least he could do.

Sophie was hungry enough not to care that he was just sitting there watching her eat. She’d never been one of those girls who picked at her food. Her hips and br**sts were evidence of that, despite the laps she swam every day. Lori was quite a bit leaner, given her intense dance and choreography schedule.

But after several minutes, as her stomach went from empty to full, she realized she was going to lose the battle with keeping her eyes open. She put down her knife and fork and yawned, big and long.

“You’re tired.”

Jake, she’d noticed more than once, didn’t waste words. But before she could do much more than nod, his arms were going around her and he was lifting her off the stool.

Her brain—and body—immediately flashed back to Napa, when he’d picked her up, naked and desperate for him.

“What are you doing?” She couldn’t hide the panic that underlay each word.

He didn’t break stride. “Taking you to bed.”

Her breath lodged in her chest. Even wanting him as bad as she still did, she couldn’t have sex with him tonight. Not when she was so tired and felt so weak, like every wall she should have up to protect herself was lying down taking a nap.

What would happen if she lowered the defenses she’d tried to put up? What remaining part of her heart—or worse, her soul—would she end up handing over to him on a silver platter?

“Jake, dinner was great, but I need to go home now.”

“No.” His bedroom was big and masculine, just like him. “Seven days, Sophie. You promised me the week.” He moved to take off her shoes and she was so stunned by how gentle he was being with her that she let him.

“I know I did,” she said when she found her voice. “But I thought they’d be like dates, that we’d meet up after work for a few hours.”

“I want you here. With me.”

It was everything she’d ever wanted him to say, and yet the words coming from her lips were, “What if I don’t want to be here?”