Page 10 of Say Yes to the Chef

He’s closer to my daughters in age than he is to me, no doubt, and that should bother me.

It does.

Yeah.I nod. Itdoesbother me.

Except that… it doesn’t. But the idea of him forgetting about me to follow those girls down the beach?Thatleaves me with a prickly feeling I don’t at all appreciate.

Good grief.

It’s just been a long dry spell. That’s all this is. I haven’t had sex in years. I’m lonely. I’m in a new place, a new life unfolding… it’s just excitement.

Anticipation.Yeah.

Anyone would be acting out of character under these circumstances. The last few years have been so hard, on so many levels. I’ve changed, no doubt. Losing a spouse will do that to a person, alter them…

I push the thoughts aside and sit on the edge of the bed. It's after midnight but I’m not even remotely tired. Adrenaline courses through my blood, electric and wild. I bring my fingertips to my lips, smiling against them. He almost kissed me, that beautiful man.

What if I’d invited him into my room instead of running off as if we’d done something wrong?

What if I’d grabbed him, snuck away into the shadowswithhim instead of without?

No. It’s absurd to even consider what ifs. What would a man that young and that gorgeous want with me anyway?

But he did want me. Blatantly.

A giggle bubbles up my throat. To be wanted by a man like that, regardless of age–

A knock on the glass door makes me jump.Is it him?

I snort; who else would it be?

Rising quickly to my feet, I stare at the curtains. If I wait too long, he might change his mind.

Hell,Imight change my mind.

Probably should, but where’s the fun in that?

Taking a page from my daughters, I muster up some of thatYOLOenergy and stride quickly to the patio door. Then, with a breath to steady myself, I pull the curtain aside before I can think better of it.

The sight of the young chef steals my breath.

He’s lost his shirt somewhere between the beach and my room, God bless him.

Bathed in a soft glow from the light streaming out of my bedroom, every hard line of his chest is on display. His arms are thick, strong and corded; his hands are tucked into his pockets nonchalantly. He’s the picture of calm. Completely unaffected by this little interaction.

I’m a mess of heat and hormones, my pulse racing, my mouth dry, while Marco looks like he does this all the time.

Maybe he does.

Do I care?

I look up into his dark eyes.Nope. Can’t say I do.

He tilts his head in a silent question and lifts one eyebrow.Are you going to invite me in?

Yes. Yes, I am definitely going to invite you in.

In my room… in me…

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