Page 24 of Say Yes to the Chef

She lifts her head and I swear her eyes are glassy with unshed tears.

This is new territory for me; I’m not sure what to do.

I sit down beside her and hold her gaze, then run my hand up her shin, from ankle to knee. She sighs, so I don’t stop, choosing instead to massage the back of her calf.

Adrienne moans and leans back, settling into the pillows. I move until I’m between her legs again, then fold them so they’re bent at the knee and I can massage both calves, because the more I touch her, the more she seems to relax, the more she comes back to me.

“Are you okay?” I ask again.

She nods, but doesn’t open her eyes.

“It’s my first Christmas without them,” she admits.

In spite of that admission and the sadness it carries, I find myself smiling. “It’s my first Christmas away from my family too.”

She opens her eyes and her mouth parts on a soft intake of breath.

“I’m glad we found each other.” I move further up the bed, positioning myself more fully between her legs, resting my head on my hand and my elbow pressed into the bed by her hip.

Tangled up in this woman’s limbs might be my new favorite place to be.

tongue over my teeth and ask the burning question. “How old are they?” I ask. I’d imagined young children, assumed she couldn’t be much over thirty-five, but the woman on that phone call was definitely not a child. And if the other daughter is off skiing somewhere, she’s probably not a little kid either.

Adrienne swallows hard, and that mask of embarrassment slips over her features. “Rachelle is twenty-two. Chloe is twenty.”

It takes all of my effort not to show my shock on my face. To distract myself—and her—I focus on her naked breasts, reaching to tease the nipple closest to me with the pad of my middle finger, then moving to the next.

“How old are you, Marco?”

I close my eyes on a long blink. Is this when I lose her? When she pulls away from me? Opening my eyes, Ilean forward and pull her hard nipple into my mouth, smirking when I suck hard and she bucks beneath me.

“Stop deflecting,” she says, even as her hands creep into my hair and hold me to her breast.

“Twenty-seven,” I murmur around a mouthful of her soft flesh.

She barks out a laugh and drops her hands.

I lift my head and level her with a gaze that I hope tells her I’m not fucking around when I say, “Nothing changes, Adrienne. I don’t are how old you are.”

Her nostrils flare, but this time it’s from something other than desire. “I’m forty-five years old, Marco. I could be your mom.”

“You’re not.”

“I could be.”

I sit up, anger beginning to tighten my shoulders. “That’s bullshit and you know it. I’m an adult, You’re an adult. Our bodies don’t see to give a shit about the difference, so why should we?” To emphasize the point, I stretch out above her and pin her between my arms, my forearms resting on either side of her head. I rock my hips to distract her, smiling when she moans and spreads her legs for me. “Come back to me, Adrienne,” I murmur against her jawline as I place soft kisses to her soft skin. “Come back to me.”

“My husband died.”

Adrienne

Marco’s body goes stock still above me, his mouth frozen against my jaw.

Talking to the girls brought me home again, back to reality. I’m awidow.

And the words were justthere, on the tip of my tongue. I can’t believe I said them, hadn’t intended to tell him something so personal, but I just opened my mouth and they fell out.

I pull in a stuttered breath and then—

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