Page 74 of Second Time Around
“I thought all you did was taste.” She handed him a pair of heat-resistant gloves. “Would you pull the casseroles out of the ovens and put them on the counter, please?”
“Tasting can be messy work.” He opened an oven door and reached in for the first dish. Kyra gave herself a few seconds to enjoy the way his shirt pulled over the flex of his shoulder muscles and his gray trousers hugged his tight butt.
Then she grabbed a giant serving spoon and began to transfer the chicken, spinach, and pasta bake to capacious serving bowls. She neverput hot cooking pans on the dining table because the kids weren’t that careful when reaching for food.
Will set out the heavy casseroles with such efficiency that Kyra wished she always had his assistance. “If you ever want to quit your day job, let me know,” she said. “You’re a pretty decent sous-chef.”
He went still in a way that made her look up from her task. He was gazing out the kitchen door, his oven-mitt–covered hands still wrapped around the last casserole dish.
He shook his head and went back to dishing out food. “I understand why you like working with the kids so much. They’re like sponges, absorbing everything you can give them.”
She’d been surprised by how comfortable he was with the three boys. He’d been entirely himself, yet they weren’t at all intimidated. He’d established an easy rapport with them. And he hadn’t talked down to them. Maybe that was his secret.
Just then the thunder of forty sets of feet pounding down the stairs rumbled through the kitchen. The first kids began pouring into the dining room with a screech of chairs being moved and the clamor of young voices anticipating food.
She shoved a bowl into his hands. “If you think they absorbed the Spartans like sponges, wait until you see how they absorb chicken penne.”
The meal passed in its usual mad swirl of serving and cleaning up. The kids had to load their own dishes into the industrial dishwasher, but their technique required a lot of repositioning of plates. Will put his hands on Kyra’s waist and set her aside, saying, “I was a busboy once so I know how this works.”
Which freed up Kyra to tackle other tasks, resulting in a spotless kitchen in less than half the usual time.
“The limo’s outside,” Will said, untying his soiled apron. Some water had soaked through to his shirt, making it cling to the washboard of his abs. He saw the direction of her glance and lifted an eyebrow. “Maybe you have a little free time before you have to get to your next job?”
Kyra felt heat flush through her. She considered for a long moment before saying, “Want to come and see my etchings?”
Will gave her a narrow-eyed look of pure lust. “I thought you’d never ask.”
They hustled out the door like two teenagers and practically fell onto the limousine’s back seat. Will had her laid out under him, his mouth open on hers, his hands kneading her breasts, so that she moaned and writhed with pleasure ... as much as she could with his hips pressing her into the leather of the seat.
He lifted his mouth an inch from hers. “When we were working in the kitchen, I couldn’t decide if I wanted to bend you over the counter and take you from behind, or sit you on top of the counter with your thighs spread so I could taste you before I drove myself into you.”
His words sank deep, sliding through her hot and fast to burn low in her belly. Two could play this game, though. “When you were at the dishwasher, I wanted to slip my arms under your apron from behind you so I could stroke your cock through your trousers and feel it grow hard. I wanted to make you groan out loud.”
She laughed low in her throat as she felt his cock do exactly that against the V of her legs. And he groaned exactly the way she had imagined.
Then he sat up, pulling her with him. “I want to see your etchings first.”
“You started it,” she pointed out, rubbing her palm over his erection.
He groaned again and grabbed her wrist to pull her hand away. “Only because I was desperate to cop a feel.”
Her nipples were tight with arousal and ached against her bra. “That was more than a feel.”
“You didn’t seem to mind,” he murmured against her neck.
She turned her head, threading her fingers into his hair and holding him so she could slant her mouth against his.
Thank God the ride to her apartment wasn’t long because the yearning between her legs was almost unbearable by the time they arrived. She unlocked the purple door, painted that color because it was her landlady’s favorite. She was about to take Will’s hand to lead him up the narrow wooden stairs when she noticed that Gloria’s apartment door was open.
Her landlady stood in her favorite place by the front window, her feather duster waving gently over the silk plant. Kyra swallowed a groan of frustration, but she knew Gloria was there to meet Will. She veered away from the stairs and into her landlady’s living room, towing Will with her. “Gloria, this is my old college friend Will Chase. Will, my wonderful landlady, Gloria Woods.”
Her landlady tucked the feather duster under her arm before she held out her hand. “Good to meet you, Will.”
“A pleasure.” Will shook her hand and gave her one of his charming smiles, even though Kyra knew he was as eager to get upstairs as she was. “You have a beautiful home, a perfect turn-of-the-century Victorian.”
That was exactly the right thing to say. Gloria loved her house with its polished oak woodwork, floral wallpaper, and solid brass sconces.
Pride shone in the landlady’s eyes. “They built them right back then.” She gestured toward the window. “That’s quite a car you drive.”
