Teague laughed at that. “That is not true, bud.”
“Well I think it is,” Harry muttered. “They stink and giggle all the time.” “Give yourself six or seven years and I’ll bet you’ll look at it differently.” Teague glanced up then and Sabrina’s heart stopped. Literally. She gasped for air and hid her distress by faking a cough.
“Mommy! Chef Jean let me put the shrimp into the pot. They were gray when I put them in and now they’re pink!” Morgan clapped her hands, her face frozen in a big, ‘O’. “You got your princess dress on! Mommy you’re so pretty.”
With three sets of eyes watching her intently, Sabrina couldn’t help but blush. She smoothed her skirt and stepped into the dining room.
“The table looks beautiful,” she said softly.
“Yeah. Beautiful,” Teague murmured.
Chef Jean appeared, her eyes alive with approval when she spotted Sabrina. “We eat our spring rolls now?”
“Are there green things in them?” Harry asked with a frown.
“Yes there are green things. And yes you will like them.”
“I don’t think so,” Harry replied.
“I promise,” Chef Jean said with a grin. “Sit. I serve and you eat.”
She disappeared back into the kitchen and Teague pulled out a chair as the kids scrambled onto theirs. Trying to calm her nerves, Sabrina took the last few steps to the table and slid onto the chair.
Teague’s fingers touched her neck, a gentle caress that was gone just as fast. She blew out a breath and reached for her napkin, glancing up at Teague when he settled in the chair across from her.
The smells from the kitchen were amazing. Her kids were smiling. Heck, even the dog looked as if it had mastered the human smile.
Sabrina had no idea how this night was going to end, but right now she wasn’t going to think about that. So what if Teague had probably paid a small fortune to fly Chef Jean up from Manhattan to her home to cook dinner?
It was just a meal. Nothing more. Nothing less.
“Wine?” Teague asked, reaching for a bottle of red Merlot. He smiled, that slow lazy smile that was like a punch to the gut.
Who was she kidding?
This was so much more than just a meal. And that’s what scared her.
Chapter Twenty-seven
It took Teague exactly three hours and forty-two minutes to get Sabrina alone. The dinner had been a one of a kind treat and Chef Jean went above and beyond. The kids ate enthusiastically and even Harry had been convinced to try the green vegetables. (Bribed with dessert, but still…)
Harry and Morgan insisted that Teague accompany them up to bed and he’d been treated to Morgan’s vocal ability as she sang a Taylor Swift song at the top of her lungs. Then he’d waited patiently while Harry showed him every single pair of superhero pajamas that he owned. Every. Single. Pair. Didn’t matter that he’d seen all of them in the summer.
Teague smiled at the thought, loosening his tie as he leaned against the counter in the kitchen, watching Sabrina. She’d made a pot of coffee and the rich brew filled the air.
Her house was cute. Not too big, not too small. A century home, it was built in the late 1800’s, so the old world charm of rich oak trim, stained glass windows and plank floors, only enhanced the modern updates. It was a good solid house and he could see why she’d bought it.
He accepted a cup of coffee from her, smiling to himself at the way she avoided his touch. He was fine with that. Made the sexual tension all that much hotter.
“Do you want to sit in the living room?” she asked, her eyes so dark they reminded him of wet denim.
“Here’s good.”
Her eyebrow arched. “Okay.” She leaned against the counter, mimicking his stance and they faced each other, separated by a few feet.
“Why are you selling the cottage?” he asked, watching her closely. He could see that she was surprised by his question, and maybe he’d caught her a little off guard. That was a good thing. He needed all the ammo he could get his hands on.
She took a sip of coffee. A long curl tickled her nose, and she tucked it behind her ear. Damn, but he couldn’t wait to touch her there. To kiss his way along that perfect jaw and nibble at the base of her throat.