Fated to be Yours (29 page)

I clink my glass with his and smile above the rim. “I don’t know anything about wine so I’ll take your word for it.”

He makes himself busy around the kitchen and I take my first sip from my glass. The refreshing, crisp flavor floats over my tongue and I silently hum my pleasure. I feel bad just sitting here and drinking while he’s busy placing items into pans, sprinkling olive oil over the top of whatever he just put in there.

“Can I help you with anything?” I start to stand from my chair, but he motions for me to sit back down.

“No, you are my guest. Just make yourself comfortable and relax. I’ve got this all under control.”

He takes two chicken breasts out of their package, placing them on top of some plastic wrap that he’s already set out on the counter. He puts another piece on top and uses his mallet to pound them down until they reach the right thickness. He washes his hands and then puts some spinach, cheese, and prosciutto in the middle and rolls them up, securing them with a toothpick. They get placed in a shallow baking pan and set in the oven.

He washes his hands again before turning to face me with a grin. Grabbing his wine glass he walks over and pulls out the chair directly next to me. I watch his throat work the wine down and momentarily lose myself.

“You’re so much better at that than I am,” I say, referring to the culinary magic he was just performing.

“It’s one of my passions. My mother was always cooking in the kitchen and I took the time to learn from her. Of course, my food is nothing like hers but I’d like to think it is right up there.”

He bumps my shoulder and we laugh. I twirl the stem of my wine glass with my fingers as we just look at each other, not needing any words to pass between us. My gaze once again falls to the large windows in front of us and I let a sigh escape my lips.

“It’s such a beautiful space, your patio area. I don’t have anything like that back at my apartment. All I have is a first-floor view of the street. I’d kill to have some grass or a sitting area outside that I could call my own.”

I can feel his eyes on me as I continue to admire his outdoor haven. When my eyes finally fall back onto his, I catch him with a funny smirk on his face.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” I start nervously wiping my fingers across my face, praying that nothing embarrassing is on there.

“No love, nothing like that. I was just thinking to myself.”

“About what?”

“About you.”

“What about me?”

He leans closer, putting his head next to mine so we share the same vision field. “I look at my garden and I see wasted space. I hardly spend any time out there so I don’t need it. But as I was watching you look out there, I could see that glimmer of light and I know you imagined so many things to do out there. You see things for more than they are. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

I cling to those words, repeating them over and over.
It’s one of the things he loves about me.
That means there’s more about me he loves, doesn’t it? He reaches over and covers my hand with his.

“It makes me want to give you the world so I can always see that light in your eyes,” he says.

I just stare at our hands resting in front of us. There’s so much I want to say to that statement. I just don’t know how to put it into words. My lips press together and I give a small shrug.

“When you grow up with practically nothing your whole life it makes you appreciate the little things and everything else that you do have. My apartment is small, but it’s functional, clean and it is mine. It’s my space where I can relax and be myself. That’s all I really want. A place to belong.”

I tug at my bottom lip with my teeth again and he reaches up to set it free. The sad look is back in his eyes. I need to change that quickly. I lean over and place a small kiss upon his cheek.

“Thank you for dinner,” I say.

He looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “But you haven’t eaten it yet. How do you know it’s going to be good?”

I reach my fingers up and trail them gently down his cheek. “Because you’re making it for me, doing one of those little things you do that make me go crazy for you.”

He takes hold of my hand, placing a kiss in the center before looking up at me with a face-splitting grin. “Crazy, eh?”

I laugh and lean closer. “Yep. Stark. Raving. Mad.”

He tries to close the distance between us, but the timer sounds in the kitchen, pulling our faces apart.

“Saved by the bell,” he says before standing and walking into the kitchen to remove a pan from the oven.

I blow out a breath and take another sip of my wine. Saved by the bell? Did he not want to kiss me? Or did he mean that it was going to go further than a kiss and the bell saved him? I’m hoping for the latter because there’s no way that I’m misreading his cues. Am I?

Andrew throws some broccoli and cauliflower into a steamer while he checks the temperature on the chicken.

“Where do you keep your plates and silverware?” I ask, tired of sitting around and not helping.

He jerks his head to the back, letting me know they’re in the cabinets behind him. I find everything I need for two place settings and decorate the table, leaving the plates just to his side so he can put the food on them, as he requested.

“Can you pull out another bottle of wine? Ladies choice,” he says, slicing the stuffed chicken breasts and putting one on each plate.

I open the door and find the same bottle that we had emptied, placing it on the table for us. Andrew’s putting vegetables and potatoes on both of the plates, making sure that my plate has more than enough food. He walks them over to where I’m sitting, setting his down right next to mine. I refill his glass and raise mine to his.

“Cheers,” I say.

“Cheers.”

We clink glasses and again I find myself staring at him over the rim of my glass. I study his face as he takes a sip of his wine, watching him savor the flavor in obvious appreciation.

My senses go on overload again as I smell the delicious food he’s made for me. Garlic and basil are the most prominent notes and as if on cue my stomach rumbles loudly. Why does it always do that in front of him? My hands cover my reddening face, trying to hide my embarrassment yet again.

He pulls my hands down from my face, letting his fingers linger just a touch longer. “No hiding from me, ever. You’re hungry. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Part of my job is to take care of you and that’s what I’m doing. Now let me do it.”

I nod because I don’t know what else to do. His smile calms the fear away again and I begin to dig into my food, surprised by how hungry I actually am. And he was right. He’s a wiz in the kitchen. I’ve never had a home cooked meal that tasted this good. Or at least one that was made for me by my date. Before I even blink my plate is picked clean. He laughs as I watch him wipe his mouth off with a napkin.

“Good?” he asks.

“Good? Andrew, it was incredible. I’ve never had a better meal than that. At least one of us knows how to cook. Otherwise, we would be living off of cereal and Macaroni and Cheese.”

He laughs, filling my ears with that sound I love. Then I realize what I just said. Did I just imply that we’ll be living together? Again, a filter would be nice.

The laughter dies down, filling the area with comfortable silence and the hum of expectation. His hand reaches up, freeing a few strands of hair that got caught in my lip, tucking them safely behind my ear. The soft pad of his finger trails down my cheek, down the column of my neck before resting on the space right above my heart.

I nervously swallow, my eyes darting to his. He’s silently pleading with me and I know what he’s going to say before he even says it.

“Stay with me tonight.” His voice is just a whisper as he pulls me closer to him, pulling me onto his lap. His hands run over my body, tracing every line and curve as my own hands rest on his shoulders, keeping me balanced because I fear that I may fall over.

“But I still need to pack.” Why is that the first thing that pops into my brain? An utterly sexy, handsome man who is way out of my league has just asked me to spend the night with him and all I can think about is leaving? There has to be something wrong with me.

“I promise to get you back to your hotel in plenty of time. Besides, I’ll be driving you to Heathrow, remember?”

I nod, a smile forming on my lips. “I remember.”

Andrew’s forehead falls forward, pressing against mine. His lips are inches away from my own. One little shift in our bodies and we’d be kissing.

“Just say that you’ll stay here with me tonight.”

“Yes,” I breathe.

I feel his smile rather than see it because his lips are instantly on mine, kissing me slowly and passionately, giving and not taking. A chill runs across my skin, making it pebble immediately as realization hits. I’m staying here. Tonight. With him. In his bed.

This is it. It’s really going to happen. I’m going to freely give myself to Andrew tonight, something that I’ve never done before. It excites yet scares me, but I know Andrew. He would never do anything to hurt me.

“I’ve imagined you in my bed for the past few days. I’m so glad my dreams will be a reality tonight,” he says in his sexy, low voice.

I squirm on his lap because the low, dull ache that is always present when I’m around him has turned into a full on pulsing throb between my legs. He groans slightly as he places me back on the chair, fishing out his cell phone in the process. It vibrates in his hand and his eyes nervously flick to mine.

“Sorry, I need to take this. It will only be a minute,” he says, accepting the call and then walking away.

Not that I mind him walking away. I could watch him do that all day. Well, not the walking away part. I just want to see his ass flex as he walks because let’s face it, he has a magnificent ass.

I decide to not be a lump this time and start clearing the table, washing the dishes by hand and putting them away. My head lifts and I see him still pacing in the living room, talking in a hushed voice into the phone. My eyes flick to the clock on the stove and wonder who could be calling him at this hour of the night? It’s well after business hours. I shake it off, reminding myself that it’s none of my business.

Andrew walks back into the kitchen as I’m rinsing out the bubbles from the sink. “You didn’t have to do that. I would have done it,” he says, pressing his lips against my neck.

I turn in his arms, wrapping my own around his neck. “I wanted to do it. I wanted to help.”

His lips brush mine before he releases me, a smirk playing across his face. I watch him walk over to his stereo, scrolling through some sort of playlist before tapping the screen and walking back to me. The flat is filled with the sultry sounds of a guitar strumming, followed by the raspy voice of Bryan Adams. Andrew stands in front of me and bows slightly.

“My dearest Tessa, would you do me the honor of this dance?” he asks, holding his hand out to me. My lip disappears between my teeth, suppressing the grin I want to show. My hand falls into his and he pulls me close, our chests touching and faces just inches apart. We sway in small circles around the kitchen to the melody that’s floating in the air.

Once again, I’m thrown by his romantic gestures. Andrew leans forward, pressing our cheeks together. I sigh and wrap my arms around him tighter. His breath is warm against my ear as he sings the lyrics back to me. I always knew his voice was sexy but when he sings, it puts it on a whole other level. If it were possible to lose myself even more in him, I would do it right now, at this moment.

We dance to several more slow songs, each of them having a man declaring his love for a woman. And I’m trying really hard not to read into it but I can’t help it. He said he wants a future with me, that there will be many more tomorrows ahead of us, that I am his. How can I not read it as anything but a declaration of love? He doesn’t have to say it because I know it’s there.

A few more songs pass and he pulls me to the couch. He turns off the stereo and is now crouching in front of his DVD collection.

“Fancy a movie?” he asks, looking at me over his shoulder.

“Sure, I’m game for a movie. What did you have in mind?” I ask, tilting my head slightly.

His fingers run over the movies before pulling two out. He holds them behind his back as he stands in front of me.

“Comedy or action?”

As if that’s a real question for me. “Comedy. Always a comedy.”

He laughs and walks over to the player, placing the disc inside without letting me see which title he’s chosen.

“Do you have any popcorn? We can’t watch a movie without popcorn.”

He turns to me and his eyes are dancing with delight and something else. Something mischievous.

“You are correct. We cannot have a movie without popcorn. Would you like anything to drink, love? More wine?”

He walks over to the kitchen and starts making a bag of microwave popcorn. The buttery aroma fills the air as I think about my drink options.

“Actually do you have a Diet Coke?”

He nods his head and pulls out a diet and regular Coke from the refrigerator. Grabbing the bag out of the microwave, he dumps the contents into a bowl and walks back over to the couch, handing me my soda before placing the bowl on the table in front of us.

“Thank you,” I say, popping the top and taking that coveted first sip. He drapes his arm over my shoulder, pulling me into his side as he turns on the TV, but not before he hit play. Apparently I need to be surprised at his choice.

“So what are we watching?”

He winks at me. “Just some good old fashioned British comedy.”

Part of me wants to groan because I’m afraid of what that could be however the other part of me lights up immediately as the opening credits roll across the screen.

“Oh my God I love this movie! It’s one of my all time favorites,” I say, practically bouncing on top of him. His lips find my temple and he smiles.

“You seemed like a Monty girl so I figured this would be a good choice.”

There’s no way that he could have known how much I adore this movie. I snuggle in close to his side, linking my hand with the one that’s draped over my shoulder. And, of course, we’re instantly in stitches just from the opening credits. It kills me every time I read the part about the llamas. Just sheer comedy gold.