Page 20 of Marcel

“I do. I don’tlike to, and most of the time, I am so busy with work that I don’tget the time to do so.” Her fingers trailed over the smoothbanister as she descended the spiral staircase. The decor hadsurprised her.

She had expected tosee something that resembled the understated decor of his office atthe firm, but the entire place was a mix of eclectic colors thatappealed to her sense of style.

They were paintings,a mix of the absurdly rare and expensive with contemporary onesfeaturing landscapes. The kitchen was ultra-modern, with stainlesssteel appliances and a mile-wide island in the middle of the greenand blue tiles.

“What’son the menu?” Sliding onto a stool, he propped his hands on thecounter and watched in wary amusement as she opened the sizeabledouble-sided fridge to take out a packet of shrimp.

“ShrimpAlfredo.” She decided. “Are you in?”

“Yes. Whatcan I do?”

“Oh, you wantto help?”

“I feel as if Ishould.”

“Why don’tyou get the wine? This place is squeaky clean.”

“Mrs. Grovesguards her territory like a mother bear guarding her cubs,” hetold her, referring to his housekeeper. Hopping off the stool, hewent to the wine cooler and selected a bottle of white wine.Selecting glasses from the cupboard over his head, he worked the corkout and poured the wine.

She was busy on thestovetop and looked like she belonged there.

“I neverpictured you in the kitchen.” He handed her the glass of wineand smiled as she rolled her eyes at him as she took it.

“Mom madecertain that I learned to cook.” She sipped the wine and addedthe pasta to the boiling water.

“She pressedthe point that I would need my cooking skills.” Putting theglass on the counter, she took the cream cheese out and popped itinto the microwave. “The fact that I hated anything to do withhousework did not sway her one bit.”

“How is she?”he asked quietly, surprising both of them.

She was determinednot to allow her emotions to veer to the surface. She hoped theywould get home early enough for her to visit.

“I called whilewe were away, and she has only had one episode since.”

“That’sgood, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”She picked up her wine and took several more sips, leaning againstthe counter and watching the flames dance under the pot. Her face wasin profile, and he admired the sculpted cheekbone and stubborn chin.She could have made it as a model, he thought whimsically.

“Nikki?”A frown touched his brow as he continued to watch her.

“Yes?”She turned her back and went to the stove to stir the pasta.

“Are youokay?”

“I am fine.”She sniffed and closed her eyes to fight the tears.

“You are notfine.” After a brief hesitation, he put his glass down and camearound. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face himand saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes.

“I am sorry.”

“Yes.”Struggling to smile, she started to turn away, but he kept his handson her shoulders and kept her there.

“I think weshould forget about dinner and go to bed.”

She was about to askif he was going to comfort her with his body but thought better ofit.

“No.”Shaking her head, she took a breath. “I am just a littleemotional right now. And I promised us dinner. I am fine.” Shestressed when he continued to stare at her with a frown.

“All right.”He hesitated a few seconds, and for one wild, hopeful minute, shehoped he would gather her into his arms and kiss her. Tamping downthe disappointment when he turned away, she returned to the stove andbusied herself.

---