Free A November Bride by Beth Vogt Page B

Erik offered her a quick smile. “The question is: Which is the worse temptation?”
    Good question. This grown-up Erik was much more tempting than the eighteen-year-old version. “Erik, who is at your house?”
    “Nobody yet—but there will be.”
    Once they arrived, Sadie gripped her seat belt. “I am not getting out of this car until you tell me who else is going to be joining us for breakfast.”
    He covered her hand with his. “You know me better than anyone, right?”
    “Ye-es.”
    “Well, then come to my apartment, knowing that I am perfectly trustworthy. Nothing is going to happen—except breakfast.”
    “It never occurred to me that anything else might happen.”
    “Of course not. And I’ll try not to be hurt that the thought of kissing me again hasn’t kept you awake.”
    “I didn’t say that.”
    “Really? That’s nice to know.”
    “Let’s go have breakfast, please.”

    Erik needed to remember that this morning was about breakfast—waffles, bacon, orange juice—and nothing else. But he’d need to work hard to concentrate on cooking andnot on whether Sadie would let him kiss her again before the end of the day. Or the bigger question: Was Sadie having anything besides “best friend” feelings for him?
    No matter what, he had a plan in place to ensure the only thing they indulged in at his apartment was breakfast.
    Once Sadie was settled at the table—cleared of the pile of mail and magazines—he opened his laptop and activated Skype.
    “We’re Skyping with someone?”
    “Phillip and Ashley. I don’t think Annalisa is joining us.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Hold on a second.” Erik activated the video chat. “Hey, Phillip.”
    “Morning, Erik.” Phillip’s hair looked damp, as if he’d just showered. “Sadie there?”
    “Yes.” He positioned the laptop so Phillip could see Sadie. Phillip waved, prompting Sadie to wave back.
    Phillip cleared his throat and put on his best I-mean-business face. “Okay, so here are the ground rules for you two: Keep the laptop powered up and open while you’re having breakfast. Keep Skype open at all times. And you stay where we can see you. Pretty simple. Other than that, enjoy yourselves.”
    “Where’s Ashley?”
    “She’s getting Annalisa dressed. She’ll be joining the Skype session too—Ashley, not the baby. I’ll be sitting over here working on my sermon about self-control.”
    “Subtle. Very subtle.” Erik tossed his friend a salute. “Well, I’m going to get started.”
    “Do you want any help?” Sadie half-rose from her seat.
    “No, thank you. I’m the chef today. But I do have some orange juice if you’d like—freshly squeezed.”
    “You’re kidding me.” Sadie retrieved two small glasses from the table and joined him in the kitchen.
    “Well, that’s what it said on the label. And it has pulp in it too.”
    “Hey, you two!” Phillip’s voice came from the laptop screen. “Can’t see you.”
    Erik pulled a container of juice from the fridge. “Will you carry the laptop in here, please?”
    “Sure.”
    When she returned, Erik was setting up a Belgian-waffle maker.
    “Waffles?”
    “Yep—homemade, if you ignore the mix. And do you prefer sausage or bacon?”
    “Bacon.”
    “Ah, a woman after my own heart. I have both—but why zap sausage in the microwave if we both want bacon?”
    He was showing Sadie the extent of his cooking skills. But once it was all made—and served on real plates, not paper—she’d be impressed.
    She sipped from the glass of juice, angling her hip against the counter. “Is there anything you want me to do?”
    “Just stand there and look pretty. I’ve got this.”
    Sadie shook her head, as if dismissing his comment.
    “What?”
    “Nothing. Forget about it. Focus on your waffles.”
    “Are you disagreeing with the ‘I’ve got this part’—or the ‘look pretty’ part?”
    Sadie waved away his question. “Don’t mind me. Show me your skills, chef.”
    “Hey.” Erik