The Millionaire and the Maid

Maybe she hadn’t started the reduction yet.

He reached for the door handle.

Bandit barked.

With a curse, Mac wheeled away and clattered back down the steps. He threw the ball until his arm grew tired and then he switched arms. Bandit didn’t show any signs of tiring. All the while Mac kept his attention cocked for any sign of sound and movement behind him.

Finally Jo emerged from the front door, bearing a plate of sandwiches, a jug of water and two glasses. ‘Hungry?’ she called out.

Not a bit—but he moved to where she’d set the things on the wooden table that stood at one end of the veranda and poured them both glasses of water. He drank his in an effort to appear nonchalant.

‘Run into any problems?’

She settled on the bench that sat between the living room windows, bit into a sandwich and lifted one shoulder.

He peered at her sandwich and blinked. ‘Is that peanut butter and honey?’

‘Yup.’

He stared.

‘What?’ She glared. ‘I like peanut butter and honey. You don’t have to eat one. I made you roast beef and pickles.’

He obeyed the unspoken demand in her voice and selected a sandwich. ‘What did the shrug mean?’ He promptly bit into the sandwich to stop himself pressing her further.

She licked a drizzle of honey from her fingers. It was unconsciously sensuous and very seductive. The fact that she didn’t mean it to be didn’t make a scrap of difference. He forced his gaze away and concentrated on chewing and swallowing.

‘I think I should probably tell you that I’m not up on a lot of cooking terminology. The very first time a recipe told me to “cream the butter and sugar” I thought it was directing me to add cream to the butter and sugar.’

He’d been leaning with a hip against the railing but he surged upright at her words. ‘This recipe didn’t ask you to cream anything.’

She waved a hand through the air. ‘That’s just an example. But...you know...“reduce the mixture by a third” isn’t the kind of thing I read every day.’

‘Do you think I need to add an explanation to describe what reducing means?’

She pursed her lips. ‘No, I figured it out, but...’

He leaned towards her. ‘Yes?’

‘Why go to all the trouble of reducing at all? Why not just add less vinegar, water and onion to begin with?’

‘Simmering the ingredients together infuses the flavours to provide a base for the sauce.’

She sat back and stared. ‘Now that’s interesting.’ She pointed a finger at him. ‘That should go in the cookbook.’

Really?

‘But, you know, I want you to realise that I might be more clueless than your real demographic, so—’

‘No, you’re perfect.’

She glanced up, obviously startled at this statement. Their gazes locked for a moment. They both glanced away at the same time.

Mac’s heart surged against his ribs. Why did this woman have to affect him like this? He’d known beautiful women in the past who had left him cold. Why couldn’t Jo leave him cold?

Oh, no, not her. She threatened to ignite him. And for the first time in months the thought of heat and fire didn’t fill his soul with dread. He glanced back at her. The pulse at the base of her throat fluttered madly. Unlike him, though, it wouldn’t be desire but fear that had sent the blood surging through her veins. Fear that he would touch her.

It left a bad taste in his mouth.

‘So...’ She cleared her throat. ‘My reduction is cooling and infusing, and I’ll strain it later when I’m ready to make the sauce. Feel free to go and check it out.’

He started for the door.

‘But...’

He turned back.

‘I didn’t know what tarragon vinegar was.’

He strode back to where she sat, one eyebrow raised.

‘So I just used plain old white vinegar.’

He let out a breath.

‘I briefly flirted with the idea of adding a herb to the mixture—like rosemary.’

He grimaced. It wouldn’t be the end of the world, but—

‘Though in the end I decided not to risk it.’

‘It sounds as if you’ve done a great job.’

She didn’t look convinced. ‘I have another request to make. I’ve no idea what a double saucepan is.’

She needed to use one when adding butter—bit by tiny bit—to the reduction later, to create the sauce.

‘I’m not asking you to tell me what it is, but can I bring my laptop into the kitchen with me? I would if I were cooking at home.’

‘Of course you can.’

‘And the final thing,’ she said before he could walk away again. ‘This recipe is Steak with Béarnaise Sauce, but you haven’t said what you want served with it.’