“Mine too,” he murmured, letting his gaze slide over the body he still couldn’t get out of his head almost a month later. She wore jeans so faded they’d almost turned white, threadbare in a few spots on both thighs, and they hugged her perfectly, showing every luscious curve. Her sweater was chocolate brown and loose, but thin, draping over her breasts in a way that made him hungry for something so very different from what he’d made for dinner.
She rounded the island and stopped a good ten feet away. “Whatcha got cookin’ over there, Superstar?”
The nickname made him smile. “Whatcha got behind your back, Coach?”
“A surprise. Guess.”
“If I have to guess, you have to guess.”
“Fair enough.” She pulled in another dramatic lungful of air. “Well, there’s definitely too many spices to be what I feared.”
“Which was?”
“Pop-Tart casserole.”
He busted out laughing, making her grin widen, her dimples pucker, and her dark eyes sparkle. “Pop-Tart casserole. That would be a trick.”
“Tricks are your specialty.”
“Not that trick. Try again.”
She glanced around the kitchen, but he’d cleaned up after himself, so anything that could tip her off was put away. “Well, it’s definitely not salmon. I’d have smelled that from the guesthouse. You didn’t have time to make the Swiss chard-eggplant-mushroom lasagna. You haven’t made enough of a mess for the kiwi-coconut braised pork and white beans you’ve been begging for, and you hated the kale and black-eyed peas I made earlier this week. But you have been wanting to try something with an Asian flair, and I think I detect…” She sniffed again. “Yes, I do think I detect the hint of peanut in the air…”
His face dropped in disbelief. “No way.”
She grinned and guessed, “Asian chicken salad.”
He smacked the counter beside the stove. “How do you do that?”
“Simple.” Pleasure softened her posture as she leaned one hip sexily against the counter. “I took a mental inventory of the food we have and compared it to the recipes I gave you. Then I nixed everything you hate or too labor intensive. That narrowed it down quite a bit, but I admit the peanut dressing gave it away. And, man, that sounds perfect. Hope you made a lot. I’m starving. Okay, your turn to guess.”
“Hmm.” He scoured her head to toe with all the hunger built up over the weeks. “What could you hide behind that deliciously tight little body?” He raised his brows and met her eyes. “Lingerie?”
She scoffed. “Hardly.”
He ran one hand over his rough jaw. He’d showered and changed since the workout but had forgotten to shave. “I hope it’s not dessert, because I was planning on rolling you naked in sugar and licking…” He stopped short, his grin turning hot, right along with his body. “Um, I mean…I already made something.”
“Not dessert, but you’re getting warmer.”
He liked warmer, but by the tightening in his groin, he was getting too warm, his mind racing in the wrong direction. So he forced it one hundred and eighty degrees and said the first thing that came to mind. “A kitten?”
The answer took her completely off guard, and Julia sputtered a laugh. “What? You want a kitten?”
“No. Not really.” Though he was having fun with the idea. “Okay, maybe. Sort of.” Her laughter and the warmth of the idea egged him on. He liked animals. And it would be nice to come home to something sweet and cuddly after a long day on the cold, hard slopes. “A little gray one. With stripes. Fluffy. Doesn’t cry too much. Purrs in my ear.”
She was laughing so hard, tears dampened her eyes. “Shut up.”
“I guess that’s a no on the cat. Damn.” The sight of her joy thrilled him, so he kept the levity going, throwing out new, random ideas. “Is it a new jump rope? New crash helmet? A San Francisco Giants jersey, signed by Posey?”
Julia kept laughing at his answers and shaking her head. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”
“It’s my unrequited Christmas list,” he only half lied. “The food’s gonna get cold if I keep guessing. What is it?”
Her face exploded in a look that was both sweet and excited. “Close your eyes.”
He sighed but did as she asked.
After just a few seconds, she said, “Okay.”