Page 50 of Evidence of Deceit

“Yep. I remembered it was your all-time favorite meal. I haven’t made it”—he stopped to think—“ever.”

How did he remember that? They never had it when she stayed here before, nor was it ever mentioned.

“Yum.”

Joe walked her into the house that she had stayed at several months ago. Everything looked the same—neat, clean, and spartan.

The lasagna smells were making her mouth water, and her stomach took that minute to rumble.

“Hungry?”

She nodded.

“I think there’s enough time for a glass of wine before the lasagna is ready.”

She followed him into the kitchen. The table was set. He had lit candles, which gave a soft glow to the room. Music played softly in the background.

Joe picked up the wineglasses from the table, filled them and handed one to her. He lifted his glass. “Here’s to you, your new life, and hopefully, my lasagna will be good.”

She laughed. His brow furrowed. He looked so cute worrying about dinner. She loved the extra effort he made to set a nice table. It wasn’t hard to imagine the romantic side of Joe coming out. A side she wanted to explore in depth. She felt breathless.What was wrong with her tonight?It was like a horny toad had taken over her thoughts.

Naked bodies. Joe.

Sex. Joe.

Her face was flushed and hot. Could Joe tell what she was thinking? She glanced over. He was staring at her. He smirked, blushed a little and winked.

Winked! Oh, dear lord, he knew.

The timer rang—a respite from sexy thoughts.

“Dinner’s ready.” He pulled the lasagna from the oven. “Sit down. I made a salad.”

Claire took a seat, and Joe brought out plates of salad from the refrigerator. He placed one in front of her, sat and poured her more wine.

“Have you set up your studio yet?”

“Yes,” she said.

They ate their salads while she told him what she was working on. He stared intently at her, listening to every word—what a difference. Keith never asked about her day unless she got in later than she was supposed to, and then she would wonder how and when he would punish her. He certainly never asked or cared about her paintings after he destroyed them all.

“Are you thinking of getting a job or selling your paintings?” Joe asked.

“Both.”

Claire told Joe about her interview with the owner of theart gallery downtown. He’d offered her a position several days a week and an opportunity to show her work when she was ready.

Joe gave her a big smile. “Congratulations. I know you’ll do great.” He took a bite of lasagna, swallowed. “And your foundation, how’s that going?”

She told him how the foundation had been well received, and she already had several grant applications from shelters. Joe reached over and rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “I’m so proud of you, but you must be proud of what you’re accomplishing.”

Yes, she was proud. She felt better about herself, ready to take on the world and the big step toward a relationship. With Joe. If he let her.

He let go of her hands and stood up. “I have dessert.” He waggled his brows. “Almost homemade.”

God, he was so handsome. She watched him cut two slices of pie and put a scoop of ice cream on each slice. He placed one in front of her. “A woman at the farmer’s market was selling pies, and I bought this. I know you like apple.”

Could this get any better? She loved apple pie and a homemade one, at that. Yum. She loved that Joe took the extra step to make the dinner special. She took a bite of the pie and groaned. “This is delicious.”

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