Wilde at Heart (Wilde Security, #3)(27)
Not that this was a real marriage, she reminded herself as enticing scents started drifting under her door. Her stomach rumbled, and she pressed a hand to it to quiet it.
Speaking of having dinner in the oven, she hadn’t eaten all day.
All right. She couldn’t hide in her room forever.
Sucking in a breath, she pulled the door open and followed the yummy scents to the kitchen.
Reece had a bowl tucked in the crook of his arm and was in the process of whisking the hell out of the mixture inside. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing his muscled forearms sprinkled lightly with dark hair, and his shirt was partially unbuttoned, the light smattering of hair on his chest peeking out. He was wearing glasses—funny, she hadn’t known he needed them before now—and looked more relaxed than she’d ever seen him. All calm and…
Sexy as sin.
And she was staring. She shook herself and walked toward him. “You’re…cooking?”
“You sound surprised,” he said, barely glancing up at her.
“I guess I am.” She wandered around the island to take a peek into the oven. She had no idea what was in there, but it smelled spicy and delicious and made her mouth water for a taste. “Most of the bachelors I know can’t even boil water.”
He returned his attention to his task, pouring the mixture from the bowl into a saucepan. He grabbed a bottle of wine from the counter and splashed some in, then reached for a pair of glasses in a cupboard overhead and poured them each a healthy dose.
He handed one glass to her, clinked the rims, and tasted his wine before setting it aside. “Technically I’m not a bachelor anymore.”
She smiled and tasted her wine. “For the next two months at least.”
This situation wasn’t so bad, after all. Not the least bit awkward like she feared it would be. With all of the angst and uncertainty of the past few days, she had forgotten how truly easy Reece was to get along with. They had always just…clicked, right from the beginning.
And, let’s be honest, it didn’t hurt he was a gorgeous specimen of a man who apparently knew how to cook.
Nursing her wine, she leaned against the fridge to watch him. She had no idea what he was doing, but he moved like a man confident in his skills.
“Seriously,” she said after a moment, “I’m impressed. To tell the truth, I can barely boil water.”
“Yeah, well. My brothers and I…we were five teenage boys basically living on our own. Someone had to learn or we were going to starve.” He took down a couple plates and started scooping portions of a veggie mix onto each. Then he opened the oven and used a towel to pull out the main entree. Chicken, she noted as he forked a portion onto each plate and slathered the breasts in the sauce he’d just finished.
“It’s done. We can sit here at the breakfast bar.” He brought the plates over and she chose one of the four high-backed chairs pushed in under the bar. He set one plate in front of her, opened a nearby drawer, and produced a pair of forks.
When he handed one to her and their hands brushed, she tried not to think about the sizzle of pure lust that flared at the contact. Yeah, they’d always just clicked. That was, when they weren’t sparking off each other like fireworks.
She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”
And there was the awkwardness again.
They both ate in silence for the first few minutes. The food was really good, and she thought she should tell him, but every time she opened her mouth to say so, she shoved in another bite of chicken instead.
Man, she didn’t like this tension, or how she was hyperaware of his every move. There was no denying the intense sexual attraction, and even though he’d laid down the no consummation rule—well, wouldn’t it be easier to just jump each other’s bones and get it out of their systems? They weren’t going to fool anybody into believing they were husband and wife when they shied away from touching each other.
Shelby drew a breath and took a sip of her wine for courage. “So…” She twirled the stem of her glass between her fingers. “I’ve been thinking. Since the money thing wasn’t working for either of us, maybe we can also reconsider the no-sex rule?”
Reece fumbled his glass, and wine sloshed down the front of his shirt. “No.”
Okay, that sounded final. She watched him blot at the stain, then finally give up and pull the shirt off. Underneath he wore a tank top that showed off his carved biceps and broad chest, which did nothing to help calm her libido. He had such a drool-worthy body, with a slim waist and washboard abs dipping into a sharp V at his hips, and she desperately wanted to tie him up and make him beg again. Or he could tie her up.
Either way, they’d have a fun time together.
“Why not?” she asked.
Without looking at her, he stood and grabbed some paper towels to clean up the spill on the counter, then picked up his plate and took it around to the sink on the other side of the island. “Because.”
“Because you’re the boss and you said so? That doesn’t work with me and you know it.”
He rinsed his plate and placed it in the dishwasher, but he still avoided facing her. “I don’t want—”
She pointed her fork at him. “You better not say you don’t want me, mister. I’ll know for a fact you’re lying.”
“I do want you.” He braced his hands on each side of the sink. His shoulders slumped, his head dropped forward, and he sighed. “But I don’t have the experience to…uh, I mean I’ve never…”