Page 12 of Grace

A playful glint fills his eyes, softening them, and this warmth spreads from the expression. “If I can chooseanything, then…” He pauses, a soft breath falls from his lips, and it almost seems like he’s hesitant with his next words. “It’s something my mother used to make.”

“Okay, and what was it?”

“Nothing fancy. It’s Dutch sauerkraut and potatoes, with sauerkraut bacon and normal pieces of bacon, and sausage, of course. I’m probably saying it all wrong, but I do know that it took hours to make.”

The way he speaks, the little smiles with some of the words, draws me in closer. I can tell this isn’t something he shares easily. Sebastian always spoke about the restaurants he loved, always fancy food, never something like this.

“I can give it a try,” I say.

He sighs, his shoulders dropping slightly as he cuts another piece off his steak. “You don’t have to.”

“But I want to,” I say quickly.

His eyes flick up and I hold his stare. “Okay, but it has…”

I smile. “The sauerkraut and the bacon have to simmer together for hours?” I ask.

His gaze narrows. “Not the normal bacon, the other one,” he adds, and I giggle.

“I think I can handle all the bacon options,” I say lightly.

“I’m sure you can handle plenty,” he says in a lower, huskier voice, his eyes darkening, and a teasing shiver runs over my skin. “Such a shame I can’t be there to see it.”

Even though I’m not sure he’s talking about my cooking, that’s what I decide to go with. I shift in my seat. “I love cooking. Taking separate ingredients that are nothing on their own and bringing them together to create something entirely new feels like magic. I’ve loved cooking since I was a kid. My mom couldn’t do anything to keep me out of the kitchen.”

“You were that precocious?” Mr. Brooks asks with warm eyes.

“I’m still that determined, but back then, not even the threat of the wooden spoon was enough to keep me away. I can’t remember how many times I was swatted before my mom gave up and let me help.” I smile at the memory.

Mr. Brooks is silent as we stare at each other, then he takes a bite and I refocus on my own food, embarrassed that I shared so much. I don’t apologize this time, though. I just sit there, eating my food slowly.

“Grace…” he starts.

I gaze up at him and feel the breath leave my lungs. No one has ever looked at me with the intensity in his gaze. It’s like he’s about to destroy me or bring me back to life, and heat coils between my legs. My thighs squeeze together and my heart beats in overtime.

Is he going to put me on his desk like in the porn? Oh, damn, why is my mind going there?

“Did you see—” His words are interrupted by his phone ringing.

We both gaze at it, and he settles into his seat, the heat and desire in his eyes dropping down to something that lets me breathe.

I start gathering my things. “I think lunch is over.”

“For today. I’m looking forward to your take on my current favorite meal.”

“Any desert?” I ask quickly, avoiding his gaze as he holds his phone.

He makes a low sound, almost a grunt. “That’s a discussion for later. I have to take this.”

I nod as he takes the call, and I head to my desk with the remains of my meal. I’m not hungry anymore. Something zings through my body, something hot and needy, but it’s definitely not hunger. I can’t place it, and I’m not sure I want to.

As I take my seat, the sound of heals clicking heavily on the marble floor draws my gaze up. My face falls as I meet Stacy’s stare.

The corners of her lips are tugging down, and her stare sharpens. “You’re still sitting here?”

“Yes,” I say, then glance through the now open blinds to Mr. Brooks. “I have some things to take care of.”

She shakes her head. “Namely, the reports you didn’t send me this morning,” she hisses. “How many times do I have to cover your ass? If you can’t do the job, then just—”

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