Page 30 of Burning Love
“I can put out any fire you start,” he said. “Even in the oven.”
The smoke coming off the grill was fabulous smelling.
Talia squinted her eyes at him. “That wasn’t my fault.”
“Are we always going to debate it?”
She snorted. “Probably.”
He lifted the lid of the grill, looked at the complicated watch on his wrist, then flipped the steaks over and shut the top.
“You time your meat?”
He laughed. “I’m not sure if that is a joke or not, but it sounded like one.”
She grinned. “It wasn’t meant to be.”
Did her body just heat up some more?
She hadn’t thought it was possible with the way she’d been feeling since she’d put her arms around his waist and held on for the ride.
Not the ride she was looking for, but she wasn’t quite ready for that either.
“I always watch the time on steaks,” he said. “So they are cooked perfectly.”
“Is it true that you take turns cooking at the firehouse, and if so, what’s your specialty?”
“We do but not always. Sometimes people bring their own food in and everyone fends for themselves.”
“And your specialty? Or don’t you have one? I need to know these things. I’ve never had a man cook for me before.”
“They were too young to know how to operate an oven?”
“Very funny,” she said, moving over and poking his shoulder with her finger.
He reached out and yanked her to his body.
It was as if he knew she wanted that move.
His mouth slanted across hers again. Hers opened, their tongues tangling for a short period, and then he stepped back as if he hadn’t just fanned the smoke coming off her body to ignite the flames.
“Do you want to get the salad that you made?”
“What?”
“You’ve got a glazed look in your eyes. I like knowing I put it there.”
She shook her head like a dog. “You’re so full of yourself.”
His laugh chased her through the house while she opened the fridge and grabbed the bowl of pasta salad she’d made after he’d given her a tour of his house.
Talia returned to the patio where they were going to eat at a small table with an umbrella up to shade them.
“I think you like men who are full of themselves.”
“Actually, I don’t,” she said. “I’ve lived with six of them. It’s tiresome.”
He frowned. “Then you and I might have a problem.”
