Free Month of Sundays by Yolanda Wallace

had a mélange before,” Jane said.
    “That’s the only thing you haven’t had, lover,” Colleen said. She shook her head when Jane offered her some of her favorite Riesling.
    Rachel noted the group’s resident sommelier had limited herself to ginger ale all evening. She hoped Colleen wasn’t coming down with something. Half the people she knew had colds or viruses or both. Not unusual for this time of year. If Colleen had become the latest victim of an already brutal winter, it would explain why she wasn’t her normally perky self when she and Jane came to visit on Saturday.
    “Do you mind if I guess the ingredients?” Griffin asked.
    “Be my guest.” Rachel was confident Griffin wouldn’t be able to tell all the components she used simply by tasting the finished result. She had left out the jalapeños at Colleen’s request, but she had practically emptied out her spice rack to make up for their absence. If Griffin identified even half the items she had thrown in, she would be mightily impressed.
    Griffin dipped her spoon into the bowl and swirled the soup around her mouth as if she were at a wine tasting.
    “Chicken, obviously. Chicken broth.” She paused as if her taste buds were recalibrating. “Northern beans—dried, not canned. Garlic—no, garlic powder . Green chilies. Cumin. Onions. Oregano. Cayenne pepper. Olive oil. Cloves. Monterey Jack cheese. And paprika for a bit of heat. How did I do?”
    Rachel gaped at her. “I kept waiting for you to leave something off the list, but you didn’t miss a thing.”
    Jane unleashed an appreciative whistle. “Talk about a talented tongue. What other tricks does it do?”
    “You’d be amazed.”
    The rest of the guests moved on to another topic of conversation, but Rachel couldn’t let the previous one go.
    “How did you do that?” she asked Griffin as they moved to the couch.
    Griffin looked casual yet elegant. Her pleated tuxedo shirt and pinstriped bow tie were paired with frayed jeans and canvas tennis shoes. She sat with one long leg folded underneath her. Her other leg rested against the outside of Rachel’s knee. When Griffin stretched one arm across the back of the couch and leaned toward her, Rachel felt hemmed in. But in a good way.
    “Easy. I installed hidden cameras in your apartment. I’ve been watching every move you’ve made for days.”
    She was clearly joking, but the thought of Griffin seeing her in her most unguarded moments made Rachel blush. Griffin’s gaze was too intense. Like the feeling you get after great sex when one more touch would bring not pleasure but pain. Rachel already felt in over her head. She tried to deflect Griffin’s attention before she was completely overwhelmed. “If you’ve been watching me, you must be bored out of your mind.”
    “Quite the opposite. I’m fascinated.”
    “Why?”
    “From what I hear—and from what I’ve seen for myself—you have a lot of great qualities. You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re loyal to your friends.”
    “You make me sound like a golden retriever.”
    Griffin pressed forward. “You’re also sexy as hell, even though you don’t seem to think so.”
    “Fifteen pounds ago, maybe.”
    Griffin put a finger to Rachel’s lips. “I didn’t meet you fifteen pounds ago. I met you last week. And I think you’re sexy right now.”
    Rachel wanted to draw Griffin’s finger into her mouth and suck on it like a lollipop. Then she reminded herself she had given up sweets. “I think you need to get your eyes checked.”
    “My eyes are fine.” Griffin lowered her hand until it came to rest on Rachel’s leg. Rachel could feel the heat even through the thick fabric of her corduroy pants. “Every time I have a conversation with you, you always find a reason to put yourself down. I’d love to know why.”
    “Why do I prefer self-deprecation to self-aggrandizement?” Rachel shrugged. “It’s easy. It’s expected. It’s what I’m used to.”
    “Then perhaps