Page 11 of All Mine
‘Look’– she lifted her eyes– ‘this one is better.’ She raised his left hand. ‘See how the oil has immediately been absorbed?’
He touched the point she had been stroking and found it soft and moisturised. He raised his gaze again to her and was caught by the truest blue of her eyes as she smiled at him. Their hands remained entwined and his skin felt warm from her touch.
His phone buzzed.
‘I’ll leave you to that,’ she said, releasing him and stepping away. ‘See you around.’ She selected the biggest sized bottle of olive oil available and headed off up the aisle.
He watched her turn the corner before sliding his phone out again, expecting it to be Mile End Mickey with another request. He froze when he saw the name on his screen. One he’d been waiting for four years to see again.
Alex. His twin brother.
Chapter Five
Isabella
A few days later, Isabella decided she should return Etienne’s wrench. He might need it, she justified to herself, and it would be best to be on good terms with the competition. He also didn’t wear a wedding ring; she’d noticed when she rubbed oil into his hands in the shop. Not that it mattered of course, but it was a point of fact.
He had his back to her as Isabella stepped into his restaurant kitchen. It was glisteningly clean, modern stainless steel, gleaming pans. He stood on the far side, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, apron knotted at his waist, staring intently at his phone, before putting it to one side and gathering ingredients. The muscles across his shoulders moved lightly under his T-shirt, the fabric stretching across them as he reached for a bowl from a shelf above. He was lost in his task. Isabella leaned against the door frame, admiring the view for a moment as he cracked an egg one-handed into the bowl and began to whisk. There was an intensity about him that made her run her tongue over her bottom lip, an energy in his movement as though he was making magic. She might not be allowed to have sex for another two and a half months, but she could surely allow herself the simple pleasure of looking at a beautiful man?
He dipped his little finger into the bowl and lifted it to his mouth. Her own mouth watered in response. He made a sound, of thought, or consideration, and added a few drops from a tiny glass bottle on the counter, whisked, tasted again. This time the noise he made was of pure pleasure. The sound tugged inside her. She gasped as he suddenly turned from the counter, bowl in hand, and saw her there. His eyes flashed wide, but a one-sided smile followed immediately afterwards.
‘Hi,’ he said, as though women turned up in his kitchen all the time. Which, Isabella thought, if that was the case, she couldn’t blame them.
‘Sorry,’ she stammered. ‘I didn’t mean to disturb you. Your waitress let me through.’
He rested the bowl on the stainless-steel island in the middle of the kitchen and wiped his hands down the front of his apron, pressing them clean against his thighs.
‘Not at all. Nice to see you.’ His grin was sincere. ‘How’s the renovation coming?’
Isabella held up the wrench to show she was returning it.
‘Slowly,’ she said. ‘But I promised you I’d drop this back.’
He leaned against the counter on one hip, and Isabella was aware of the height of him. His legs came almost up to her waist.
‘Don’t worry, I have another one. You can keep it if you need it.’
‘Thanks. But I should probably kit myself out better.’ She stretched the tool out towards him, and he put his hand on the other end. It linked them for a second before Isabella let it go.
‘Well, you always know where I am if you need it,’ he said. ‘Or anything else.’ His eyes met hers and this time they held. Was this kitchen hot all of a sudden? She swallowed and shook herself mentally. A year of no sex. A year ofnosex. The mantra flicked through her mind.
‘And I’m putting your hoodie through the wash, but I’ll bring that back too.’
Again, the tiny lift of his eyebrow and she felt a flush hit her neck at the memory of what she must have looked like before he gave it to her to wear. Cold day, overheated woman, soaked white T-shirt and two brown nipples standing to attention.
‘What are you making?’ She nodded at the bowl to distract his attention.
‘Don’t you know what day it is?’ he asked.
She frowned. All she knew was she’d been supervising plumbing work or carpenters for eternity.
‘Tuesday?’ she suggested.
He nodded and smiled.
‘Right.’ The batter was smooth and creamy-looking as he tilted the bowl towards her. ‘So, it’s pancake day.’
‘But I thought Shrove Tuesday was around Easter?’ Isabella was more than confused.
