Fairytale Christmas with the Millionaire
“Maybe there are a few things I can do in the kitchen,” she admitted. “I just prefer not to.”
“Ah...so the truth comes out now,” he teased. He moved to sit down on a bar stool and then placed the collection of sprinkles on the counter. He glanced up and his gaze landed on the plastic roll in her hand. “What’s that?”
She cut open the plastic wrap and peeled it back. “It’s cookie dough.”
His brow arched. “No, it’s not. It’s store-bought.”
“It’s still cookie dough.” She took a sharp knife and sliced off a sugar cookie.
“I don’t know about this. This might be considered cheating.” His brown eyes sparkled with merriment. “Does Merryweather know about this?”
“Oh, listen to you.” A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as her guard started to fall. “You, mister, have no room to talk.”
He crossed his arms as a smile played on his lips. “What? I don’t hand out fake cookies.”
“They aren’t fake!” Oh, this man! The more he got her worked up, the more he smiled. And the more he smiled, the more she fell for him. “Your cookies aren’t any better than mine. I’ve seen the Polka Dotted Bakery boxes in the garbage.”
“You did?”
She nodded.
The smile vanished from his face. “Oh, well, you keep my secret and I’ll keep yours.”
“It’s a deal.” Alina placed the last cookie on the sheet and pushed it toward him. “You start decorating this one.”
He looked at the plain round circles and frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure how to decorate them.”
“They don’t have to be fancy. Just add a few sprinkles. They’ll look fine but taste even better.” She started to fill the second tray with cookie dough.
She could get used to this—used to spending the evening together. It was like they were a couple. As soon as the thought came to her, she halted it.
They weren’t a couple. They were far from it. Weren’t they? Her heart beat faster. Because then she thought of how they’d decorated the Christmas tree together. And how they’d gone ice skating together. And the kiss, oh, the kiss. Heat flamed in her cheeks. Wh
at did she call this thing between them? Because there was something. Of that she was certain.
* * *
The cookies were decorated and baked.
The kitchen was cleaned up.
Graham didn’t want the evening to end. Sure, he had reports to go over, emails that needed responses and directives to send out, but for the first time ever, he had no drive to spend his evening in front of his laptop.
His gaze moved to Alina as she settled on the couch next to the Christmas tree. That’s where he wanted to be, next to her, continuing to make her smile. Thoughts of work slid to the back of his mind.
He poured two glasses of cold milk and placed a few freshly baked cookies on a plate. With the excuse of sharing a snack, he moved to the living room. He sat down on the couch, leaving a modest space between them, resisting the urge to slide up next to her.
He chanced a glance at her. His gaze drifted downward to her pink lips—her very tempting mouth. Talk about your sweet treats. But he held back because Alina wasn’t just anyone. He knew she’d been hurt by people in her past and he didn’t want to be added to that list.
He cleared his throat. “Time to sample the baked goods.”
“But those were to hand out to the residents.”
“I don’t think they’ll mind if we eat a few.” He held out a glass to her. “And I grabbed some milk.”