Page 52 of Saved By Love at Christmas
Something about the way Ben spoke seemed to have a hidden meaning. Not that I minded. I hoped it was the samehidden agendathat I had in mind. His eyes were alive with some nameless expression. Whatever it was, the suspense was killing me. My body was wired with a sort of nervous anticipation.
He yanked a saucepan out of a drawer.
“What’s that for?”
“Have you forgotten my homemade caramel sauce?”
My lips formed into a smile. “Yes, I had. It’ll be great to go with our dessert. Do you have squirty cream too?” My mouth was watering at how delicious this was going to be.
“Of course I have. It’s in the fridge.” He inclined his head towards it whilst stirring ingredients in the pan.
“Oh, that smells so good,” I moaned.
His eyes widened at my moan and then narrowed. And I don’t think he realised I’d seen the way he tried to adjust his jeans without me noticing.Oh, girl, you are in so much trouble.At least I hoped I would be.
“Why don’t you go into the living room while I plate this up.”
His voice was silky soft, leaving me to wonder what he had planned.
“Sure.”
I sat in the living room where the light was dimmed because the Christmas tree lights were on. They twinkled brightly, giving the room that extra special Christmassy feel. There was the scent of cinnamon and other festive spices in the air from two candles on the mantelpiece.
“Move over.”
I hadn’t heard Ben enter; I was basking in all the Christmas feels of the room. He stood with a tray and one big dish.
“Oh, aren’t you having any?”
A sexy smirk covered his mouth. “Yes, but I thought we could share.”
I scooted along the sofa, and he joined me, propping the tray between us. There was one large glass dish, specifically made for a banana split. There were two spoons too, the long-handled type, a little like the ones you got with a latte. One banana had been split in two, with three generous blobs of rum and raisin ice cream in the middle. On top of that were banana slices, squirty cream, caramel sauce, all topped off with toasted almond flakes.
“This looks fab, Ben. And I love the retro banana split dish. Where did you get it from?”
“They were in an antique shop I discovered when I was last in Norwich. I thought of you when I bought them. They’re a set of six, and they’re original too.”
It warmed my heart to think he’d bought these with me in mind, even if I was in Spain at the time.
“I thought the way I’d dressed the dessert would appeal to your artistic nature.”
This guy knew me so well. I needed to cut the tension before I saidforget the dessertand had Ben instead.
I grabbed a spoon, breaking the spell. “To hell with the artistic design. I’m going in.”
Not waiting for a response, I loaded my spoon up with as much of the delicious goodness as I could.
“Don’t forget our tradition.” He eyed me with a challenging expression.
“Ha, you’re on.”
I put a little more on my spoon while Ben did the same. When we were ready, spoons close to our open mouths, I waited for the immortal words he always used before eating the first mouthful.
“God bless our bellies.” He waited for my response.
“And here’s to all the calories we are about to consume.”
“Go,” we shouted in unison.
