Page 14 of Seasoned
“I’m flattered,” he said in his warm voice, casting a quick look over her figure and making her skin tingle. The brief spark in his eyes let her know he liked what he saw.
Now that her friends had put the idea of sleeping with him in her mind, she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Clive looked like the kind of man who knew his way around a woman’s body, and keeping his woman satisfied was not only a task that stroked his ego, it was a task he relished.
“Where’s your helper?” Renee asked.
“Chelsea doesn’t work on Saturdays, so she took Margie over to Coronado Island. She works so much during the week, she tries to do something once a week where the two of them get to spend quality time together. Margie loves it.”
“I can imagine. Well, follow me.” She hadn’t expected to be alone with Clive, which made her even more aware of him and her attraction to him.
She led the way into the dining room and wondered if he was watching her ass. Her ass did look spectacular in these jeans. That’s why she’d chosen them.
When he saw the spread, he stopped in the doorway. “Damn. When you said bring your appetite, you weren’t kidding. Is all of this for the two of us?”
The two of us. Why did having him say those words cause her to feel a little breathless?
Renee rested her hands on her hips and shot him a haughty look. “You didn’t bring your helper today, so yes, it’s for the two of us. I know I only said eggs and toast, but I prepared a little bit extra in case you were very hungry.”
“I do have a big appetite,” he said, looking at her instead of the food.
Renee blushed, her entire body warming under his intense green gaze as she waved him toward one end of the table. “Have a seat.”
Clive sat down and examined the choices.
“There’s plenty, so don’t be shy. And then you have to tell me how great those eggs are.”
“You already know they’re great?” he asked in an amused voice.
“Of course. Everything I do is great.” Renee sat across from him with a little smile.
Their eyes met for a few seconds, and a bit of tension stretched between them before Renee caught herself and reached for the pitcher of orange juice.
In addition to the bowl of eggs, she set out platters with toast, fruit, waffles, and a fresh pot of coffee along with the pitcher of orange juice. They filled their plates, and Renee sipped her orange juice as she waited for the verdict.
Several minutes passed before Clive looked at her and shook his head. “Mm, mm, mm. These eggs are great, and I do believe these are the best waffles I’ve ever tasted. Even the toast is special, smothered in butter the way I like. You have magic hands, ma’am.”
Renee laughed and then drizzled maple syrup on her waffles. Watching Clive eat was enjoyable, and when he got a second helping and refilled his glass with orange juice, she almost purred. By the way he ate, one would think the poor man hadn’t had a decent home-cooked meal in years. Perhaps he hadn’t, not since his wife died.
At the end of the meal, he patted his stomach. “I’m completely useless now. That was wonderful. Thank you so much.”
“My pleasure. I figured it’s the least I could do.”
“You sure know how to spoil a man.”
His comment took her aback. She didn’t spoil people. None of her marriages had lasted very long, and she never had children of her own—or wanted any, for that matter. But her friends were right, there was nothing wrong with male companionship.
Renee dabbed her mouth with a napkin, her mind going in a direction it hadn’t in a long time because she considered men too stressful and they never knew what they wanted—a lesson learned after three failed marriages. Clive, however, might get her to change her mind, assuming he turned out to be a different kind of man.
“How is it that you’re not married?” he asked.
Once again, he stunned her by asking the one question she hated answering. She immediately started closing in on herself and twisted the paper napkin in her lap. She hated that question. People didn’t understand how brutal those words were to a woman with her past.
“Sorry, did I ask the wrong question?”
“No. I mean, yes, in a way. I actually have been married before.” She cleared her throat. “Three times.”
His eyebrows flew higher. “Oh.”
With a pained smile, Renee reached for the orange juice. Now came the judgment. She wished she could banish that question from the vocabulary of everyone she met so she wouldn’t have to answer ever again. She considered her failed marriages a stain in an otherwise successful life.
