Page 47 of All's Fair in Love and Blood - A Romantic Comedy Novel

“Don’t make fun of me; it’s Christopher Cross.”

“Why would I make fun of you? I listen to Celtic music.” And I didn’t know who Christopher Cross was.

“That’s true,” he teased.

“Hey, now.”

He chuckled. “We can debate the merits of Enya later. Christopher Cross is a singer from the seventies and eighties. My dad told me if I wanted to impress a girl to put on Christopher Cross and it was a done deal.”

I sat up and leaned against his chest. “Are you trying to impress me?”

He brushed my hair back. “I’m trying my hardest. How am I doing?” His tone was genuine.

I didn’t even have to think about my answer. “You have my vote.” And my heart.

He was about to lean in for a kiss when we were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“That will be the food.” He kissed my nose before I slid off his lap.

While I watched him walk toward the door, I listened to the lyrics of the song playing: something about never being the same after being touched by that person, the person. Truer words had never been sung. I would never be the same. Kane had changed my life.

Kane walked back with two decent-sized paper bags. His condo immediately smelled like garlic, pepper, and sesame oil. “Let’s eat out on the terrace; I want to show you the view.”

“Okay.” I jumped up to join him.

“There’s a bottle of wine in the refrigerator and wineglasses on the counter, if you wouldn’t mind grabbing them.”

“Not at all.” I headed over to his small, open kitchen with its dark granite counters and stainless steel appliances. I smiled when I noticed the row of cookbooks neatly stacked near his coffeepot. He even had a grocery list hanging on his refrigerator. Not surprised at all. He loved lists. I was touched when I glanced at his grocery list and saw that he’d written semisweet chocolate chips and then in parentheses added Scarlett’s favorite.

It made my heart flutter.

I grabbed the wine and glasses and met him outside. Wow, was all I could think. His view was incredible. A pristine golf course filled my gaze. It was even more beautiful, as the sun was just starting to go down casting a glow on the trees below.

Kane was setting out white cartons and chopsticks on a round wooden table. He’d lit a citronella candle to ward off the mosquitoes that loved this time of year. Planter boxes full of what looked like herbs lined the black wrought iron railing. Some neighbors below were barbecuing, and the smell of grilled steak wafted our way.

“This is beautiful.”

“I thought you would like it.” He held out a chair for me.

I set the glasses and wine on the table before taking my seat.

After he helped push in my chair, he kissed my cheek before taking a seat next to me.

“I feel like I’ve learned a lot about you tonight.”

“And what have you learned?” He opened the carton of sesame chicken and began dishing me some.

“Well, you must like to golf.”

“I have to; that’s where the deals are made.”

“That’s what Auggie says too.”

Kane cleared his throat as if to say, “Let’s not talk about your father.”

I moved on quickly. However, I had some guilt about the strain that existed between Auggie and Kane. I tried not to let it interfere with our perfect evening. “I’m also guessing you love to cook.”

“Right again. Next time you come over, I’ll cook for you.”

“I’d love that.” Especially because it meant he was planning on having me over again.

“Me too.” He handed me a pair of chopsticks.

I stared blankly at the wooden utensils. “I’ll take a fork, please.”

Kane shook his sexy head no. “The only way to eat Chinese food is with chopsticks.”

“I beg to differ. I’ve used a fork several times.”

“That was before you met me.”

“Fine.” I grimaced. I was about as dexterous as a tyrannosaurus.

“You got this. Just do what I do.” With ease, he stabilized the bottom stick using his thumb and ring finger, and then he did some hocus-pocus with the top one and easily picked up a piece of sesame chicken.

I tried, fumbling the sticks and dropping the chicken, and that was after several attempts. I finally gave up and stabbed one chopstick into a piece of chicken and shoved it in my mouth.

Kane laughed loudly at me. “That’s one way of doing it. I think I better give you a fork before you hurt yourself, or me,” he teased before reaching into the bag for a plastic fork.

“Thank you.” I happily took it.

We ate and talked, and in between sipped wine, and shared kisses in the sultry night air. Best. Night. Ever. It only got better after dinner when Kane stood and held out his hand to me. “Dance with me.”

I stared at him. “I’ve never danced with anyone,” I whispered, embarrassed.

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