The Millionaire and the Maid

‘I just asked if you could include a photo, then, of what properly beaten egg whites should look like?’

He wrote that down on the pad he’d started to keep at his elbow when they had dinner. With the addition of Jo’s suggestions, the cookbook finally felt as if it were taking shape. He just had to remember he wasn’t writing a textbook for apprentices.

In the kitchen, the oven timer dinged. He frowned. ‘What else are you cooking?’

She didn’t answer. She was already halfway to the kitchen.

She returned with a pizza. One of those frozen jobs she’d shoved in the freezer after her first shopping trip. What on earth...?

She took one look at his face and laughed. ‘I’m a carnivore, Mac. I’m sure cheese soufflé with a vegetable medley is all well and good, in its place, but give me a meat lovers’ pizza every time.’

She seized a slice and proceeded to eat it with gusto. His stomach tightened, his groin expanded, and it was all he could do not to groan out loud.

She tilted her chin at the pizza. ‘Help yourself.’

‘I haven’t eaten that pap since I was a teenager. It’s full of chemicals and MSG and—’

‘You don’t know what you’re missing.’ She suddenly grinned, and it made him realise how remote and subdued she’d been. ‘Have a slice and I’ll put you out of your misery.’

His chin came up. ‘What misery?’

‘What I’m going to tell Russ tomorrow.’

He didn’t try pretending that it didn’t matter. It mattered a lot.

Without another word he took a slice of pizza and bit into it. ‘Yuck, Jo!’ He grimaced and she laughed. ‘This is truly appalling.’

If she liked pizza that much he’d make her a pizza that would send her soul soaring—

He would if he still cooked, that was.

She reached for a second slice. ‘On one level I know that. Whenever I eat pizza from a restaurant I can tell how much better it is. But this...? I don’t know—I still like it.’

He finished his slice and gazed at what was left.

‘It’s strangely satisfying. Addictive.’

She was right. He reached for a second slice and polished it off. ‘What are you going to tell Russ?’

He watched as she delicately licked her fingers—eight of them. He adjusted his jeans. He drained his glass of water. Don’t look. Don’t think. Don’t kiss her again.

She rose and opened the bottle of red wine sitting on the sideboard. He hadn’t noticed it before. He didn’t know if she was making him wait to punish him, or whether she was trying to gather her thoughts.

She handed him a glass of wine and sat. ‘I’m going to tell Russ that you’re one of the most pig-headed, stubborn men I’ve ever met. I’m going to tell him you argue every point, and that whenever your work is interrupted you have creative type-A tantrums that would do a toddler proud. I’m going to tell him that you sulk and scowl and swear under your breath. And I’m going to tell him you’ve stolen my dog.’

He stared at her and the backs of his eyes prickled and burned. ‘I could kiss you.’

Everything she’d just said was designed to allay each and every one of Russ’s fears. He couldn’t have done better himself.

‘I’m not going to tell him that.’

The air between them suddenly shimmered with a swirl of unspoken desires and emotions as the memory of the kiss they’d shared rose up between them. He knew she recalled it too, because her eyes dilated in exactly the same way as they had before he’d kissed her the last time.

And it had to be the last time. Don’t kiss her again!

But the way her lips parted and her breathing became shallow...it could slay a man.

She dragged her gaze away and took a sip of wine, but even in the dim light he could see how colour slashed high on her cheekbones. He searched his mind for something to say.

‘Do you really mind about Bandit?’

Her lips twisted. ‘More than I should, I suspect. But not so much now I know there are puppies on the way.’

Her chin came up and her gaze lasered him to the spot.

‘Can I ask you a question?’

He set his glass down. ‘If I get to ask one of you in return.’

She twirled her glass in her fingers. Eventually she set her glass down too.

‘Deal.’

He stiffened his shoulders, because he didn’t expect her question would be an easy one. That was okay. Neither was his.

‘Shoot.’

‘Why won’t you visit Russ?’

He tried to not let her words bow him. He should have known this was what she’d ask.

‘It’s funny...you don’t seem a particularly vain man.’