Page 16 of Minions and Magic
I barely restrained an eye-roll at that. “And I will grant you the supreme honor of calling me Glenda.” I placed his lemonade in front of him and took a sip from my own. “Now, Xavier, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?”
He lifted the glass to his lips, his eyes widening at the taste of the lemonade. “This is quite good.”
I waved a hand in false humility. “I use a specific lemon variety then throw in a little lavender, and my simple syrup is a bit different.”
Because I wanted to show off, I pulled some dried apricot and dark chocolate cookies from a container and put them on a little plate, sitting them on the counter between us. Was he here just to eat? It wouldn’t be the first time I’d lured a man in with my culinary skills, but those past relationships had failed spectacularly. Having a man who loved your cooking more than he loved you was a road that led straight to heartbreak.
“So why are you here?”Please don’t say my food. Please don’t say my food.
I watched as he ate a cookie, thinking that the expression on his face was pretty close to what a guy looks like when he shoots a load. Conflicting emotions raged through me—pride and a giddy happiness that he loved my cooking, and a worried sorrow that he wouldn’t love me nearly as much.
But what did I care if some crossroads demon loved me or not? I’d just met him two days ago, and I was too busy for love.
“What do I need to do to get that ginger cake recipe?” His eyes were full of heat and promise and sin, but my heart sank. Of course that’s what he wanted. I should have known.
“Trade me your soul,” I teased. He was a crossroads demon, after all. I assumed this was the sort of thing he said to the humans who called upon him wanting wealth, or love, or fame.
“If I had a soul it would be yours.” He smiled. “Perhaps there is something else you would like in exchange?”
Wealth, love, fame? But instead of pledging my soul to him in return, I’d be handing over a three-by-five recipe card?
“You can buy a cake, but not the recipe,” I told him, thinking that he probably couldn’t replicate it even if I did sell it to him. It seemed ridiculous that he’d tracked me down just to know what went into my cake. Yes, it was a darned good cake, but I wasn’t quite so vain about my cooking that I’d think a demon would be willing to offer me more than just money for it.
But maybe the cake was an excuse and he was here to see me? I wiped that thought right out of my mind, because as confident as I was in my cooking, I was less than confident about my attractiveness. He was probably in town to see Lucien about some hellish matter and had stopped by hoping for lunch and a slice of cake.
“Who said anything about money?” The demon’s eyes glowed, his smile downright sinful as his gaze focused on my mouth. The heat coming off him was delicious and his aura shifted, the swirls of orange growing brighter and countered by a deep violet.
I never gave away my recipes. Never. But something about this demon tempted me. Actually a whole heck of a lot about this demon tempted me. Plenty of boyfriends had loved my cooking more than me, but I’d never had anyone seriously offer to exchange sex for food—or a recipe. Figuring I’d play along with this, I turned on whatever sex appeal I might have and leaned forward onto the counter—which pushed my boobs together and upward.
“What exactly are you proposing?” I asked.
He eyed my breasts and wiggled his eyebrows. “How about one night where I make all your dreams come true.”
“You’ll do all the dishes, my taxes,andget me the catering job for the next inaugural ball?” I fanned myself. “Wow. You demons really do know what a woman wants.”
He scowled, but I saw a hint of amusement in his eyes. “I was thinking more along the lines of my slowly removing your clothes, spreading you across your bed, then tasting every inch of you.”
The demon went on to describe in incredible detail all the X-rated things he was going to do to me. I’m not a prude, but I was pretty sure my face was bright red by the time he finished. I’ll admit, it did sound like something I would enjoy, and I did hesitate a few moments before answering him, just to make sure I’d fully considered his proposition.
But ultimately, I decided my ginger cake recipe was worth far more than one night of mind-blowing sex.
“Think I’ll pass on that,” I told him. “But if you’d like to stay and help me while I cook as well as wash the dishes, I might let you lick the spoon.”
Something sparked in his eyes. “Can I lick other things as well?”
I smirked, thinking how shocked he’d be if he tried to lick the bowl I used to marinate the slugs. Although maybe demons liked slugs? The demons I knew seemed to have fairly human food preferences, but perhaps that was because we’d never offered them slugs.
“Maybe,” I replied as I reached in a drawer and pulled out an apron. “Here. Put this on and go wash your hands.”
“I need to clean my hands before I wash dishes?”
“Absolutely. Cleanliness is next to godliness—or satanliness, in your case. You might need to hand me a bowl or utensil before you do any washing. And I’m thinking you might make a good turnip stirrer. Are you a good turnip stirrer?”
He followed me, a bemused expression on his face. “Turnips? I’m intrigued to find out what magic you’re working that involves turnips.”
“No magic, just food for a birthday party I’m catering on Wednesday.”
I surveyed my ingredients. Vinegar. Sugar. Dill. Salt. Chilis. Some sliced beet to give them a pink color and an earthy flavor that I knew gnomes loved.
