Landlord Wars(47)

“Food,” I said shakily. “Probably best we eat.”

“Pity,” he said, staring at my lips before returning to his seat.

Max served us, and we didn’t waste any time digging in. For me it had more to do with keeping my mouth busy and not focusing on his lips.

And then I realized something as I stared at my plate and chewed. “Hey, this is pretty good.”

He chuckled, a low, rumbly sound that sent a frisson of awareness through my core. “You sound surprised.”

I pointed my fork at him, ignoring my body’s autonomic response to his deep, sexy tone. “You were the one who said you couldn’t cook.”

“I said I didn’t cook often. But like anything I put my mind to, I’m good at it.” He winked.

“Oh, wow.” I shook my head. “Now I’m not sure we should date. Your ego might smother me.”

He shoved a forkful of food in his mouth and chewed. “Too late. You signed on the dotted line with your lips.”

I so had. “That was very sneaky of you.”

“I will use whatever skills I have to spend time with you.”

My gaze narrowed, and he grinned. But I was all bluster, because regardless of whether we fit or had anything in common, I was attracted to Max. And it wasn’t only his beautiful appearance, though that was distracting. He had a sense of humor beneath that designer fabric, and it made him ten times more appealing.

When I thought back, Max had never been cruel. A cocky ass, yes. Misguided out of a protective instinct, which I could get behind. And now he was showing me the real man. A sometimes rumpled, occasionally silly, decent human being. And he kept bringing up those abs, which intrigued me. Did he really have a washboard under those suits?

I studied him as we polished off our plates. Apparently, I’d been ravenous, because mine was licked clean. “So how often do you cook for women?”

He glanced up as though calculating, then said, “Never.” He scraped the last of his food into his mouth.

Part astonishment and part excitement rushed through me. “You’ve never cooked for a woman?”

Watching him chew was mesmerizing. Jaw muscles flexing, tongue sensually sneaking out to lick juices from his lips…and the man wasn’t even trying to seduce me! Not at the moment, anyway. He shook his head. “I’ve made espresso for my mother. Does that count?”

“Not even a little.”

He nodded. “So, never.”

I tilted my head. “But you had a girlfriend. You dumped her in front of our building.”

He leveled me a look that said he might chase me around the island for such insolence and attack me with aggressive kisses. Or was that just my imagination?

A girl could dream.

“We broke up months ago,” he said pointedly.

“Details,” I said. “You never cooked for Gwen?”

“No.”

“Interesting.”

“Is it?” he asked.

“Kind of.” I leaned on my forearms and tapped my lip. “I’m trying to figure out to what I owe such effort.”

He sat back and took a sip of wine, looking at me over the rim of his glass. “I find myself wanting to do nice things for you.”

I chuckled, but I was all squirmy on the inside. “Like steal my chocolate?”

“Funny you should mention that…” He stood and crossed the kitchen to a cupboard above the fancy espresso machine. He opened it, then faced me and leaned against the cabinet, legs crossed at the ankle, as though he were revealing a treasure.

And he was.

I blinked several times, making sure I was seeing correctly. Four three-inch by three-inch golden boxes rested on an empty shelf. Not actual gold—they were probably made of cardboard, with a patterned surface to make the boxes look like they’d been plated gold. But I recognized the emblem. “No way. Those aren’t La Fleur au Truffe.”

His eyes twinkled. “Aren’t they?”

“They can’t be,” I said, half sitting, half standing in my excitement. “They cost two hundred and fifty dollars a chocolate.”

He reached for two of the boxes and set them on the island in front of me, and I sank back into my seat. “I thought we should see what all the hype is about,” he said.

My heart raced. I looked between him and the chocolates and touched the surface of the box in front of me. I was in the presence of La Fleur au Truffe—and it blew my mind. “Where did you find these?”

He opened one of the lids and pulled out a truffle. “My assistant put in an order a couple of weeks ago. They don’t last long, so we better eat them. Say ah.”

I opened my mouth, and he slowly placed the chocolate inside.

Rich ganache, vanilla, cream, and straight-up decadence, if decadence was a flavor, filled my senses. “Oh my God…” Mouth orgasm—that’s what this was.

He notched his chin up. “Another?”

My eyes widened and I nearly choked. “Have you lost your mind?” I said, chewing and savoring. No way would I wash it down with wine and ruin the flavor. “I can’t believe I just ate two hundred and fifty dollars. We can’t eat two; that’s too much.”

Max opened the second box and tossed the truffle in his mouth. He chewed and nodded. “It’s good. Not sure they’re worth all the effort. Some of the chocolate I stole from your apartment was just as nice.”