Page 81 of Until the Sea Runs Dry

She reached for the Parmigiano-Reggiano. “This is the real stuff. Did you know that a lot of the Parmesan that’s sold in the US is fake? The real stuff only has three ingredients by law.”

“I did actually, but look what you just remembered too. You know a lot about cooking.”

“I guess you’re right. Maybe I should be the one cooking tonight?” She flashed her own grin at him.

“Next time,” Logan replied smoothly.

Inside, his stomach did a tango.

What was happening here? Was he becoming a method actor, or were they actually getting along and enjoying each other’s company?

“Um, Logan? Can you sign this for me?”

A box of cereal and a pen were thrust at him. He took both automatically.

“Of course, who shall I make the Special K out to?”

* * *

Sizzlingpans filled with tantalizing aromas wafted in the air, making Loki, sprawled over the chaise lounge beside the kitchen, salivate.

Jane couldn’t blame him. Despite this being the king of comfort foods, what Logan was cooking was anything but simple.

While she chopped onions and garlic, he had fried cubes of seasoned pancetta in a cast-iron pan with butter. With that browning, a heavy-bottomed pot heated on the stove with both the tinned and chopped heirloom tomatoes simmering inside. She’d watched as he’d added herbs, salt and pepper, stock, and a liberal glass (or two) of a rich red wine.

“Is that done?” He gestured to the chopping board where a mountain of onions sat. Her eyes stung from their acidic breath. Without thinking, she reached up to wipe them.

The instant resulting burn was terrible. Welling with tears, she fumbled for a towel.

“Here, let me.”

He dabbed at her eyes with something that smelled strongly of him, surprising her with his gentleness. When her eyes stopped streaming, she sent him a sheepish smile.

“Thanks. Forgot how much they can hurt.”

He rolled up the damp sleeve he had used on her.

“Why didn’t you use a kitchen towel? Now I’ve soaked your shirt.”

He shrugged, not bothered in the least, throwing a pound of ground beef and Italian sausage meat into the pan. “The towels are great for cleaning up spills, but not soft enough for your face.”

His thoughtfulness created another pull in her stomach that, if she wasn’t careful, would cause her to do something stupid.

Washing her hands to give herself something to focus on that wasn’t him, she almost jumped when his voice spoke close to her ear.

“Have you heard from Summers?”

At the mention of the detective in charge of her case, her face clouded over with concern. “No. I haven’t had any messages on the phone here.”

Stirring the meat in the pan, he let everything brown. “What about your cell?”

She gave him a funny look. “I don’t have one.”

The hand holding the wooden spoon froze. “Yes, you do. One was bought for you a while ago. Kitty must have forgotten to give it to you.”

He frowned over the stove, stirring the pan more vigorously. Jane jumped to the woman’s defense.

“She has such a lot to do around here, and she’s been so great at looking after me. Please don’t make a thing of it.”

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