Free Drawing The Line by Kimberly Kincaid

bulletproof, breathing in the steam and letting it mix with the relief in her lungs. “I’m glad he enjoyed it. Nobody’s seen anything suspicious, have they?” God, she’d never forgive herself if another one of her employees got hurt.
    “ So far, there’s been no sign of trouble. Your staff is really alert. It helps.”
                  “Thanks.” A sharp pang of homesickness corkscrewed through Serenity’s chest, and she covered the ache with her palm. She assembled the ingredients for the warm potato salad recipe she and Jules had come up with one night after too many margaritas, grabbing a wooden spoon from the deep-bottomed drawer next to the sink.
                  “Why don’t I set the table?” Jason asked, and her brain’s command to stay impassive fell victim to the spark of surprise winding through her.
                  “Sure.” Serenity plucked a handful of fresh parsley from the fridge, sending up yet another round of thanks to the powers in heaven that she’d had the foresight to grab her knife roll from her kitchen last week. Mac’s might not be fancy, but it was just stupid not to invest in high-quality cutlery.
                  Not that she could get there to use it.
                  “Wow, that’s pretty impressive.”
                  It took her a minute to realize that Jason had stopped setting the table, eyes fixed on the blur of her hands on the butcher block as she put an efficient chop to the herbs. “Thanks. But it’s actually more practice than skill.”
    “Somehow I doubt that,” he said , but she shook her head to stand her ground.
    “Do you go to the gun range? For practice on those paper target things?”
    “Yeah.” Jason drew the word all the way out as if it were a question, and the mixture of confusion and curiosity stamped over his face was endearing to the point of distraction.
    Or was that attraction ?
    “It’ s the same thing.” Serenity grabbed at a breath to modulate her reply into something less ridiculous than her thoughts. “The chopping, I mean. I bet you can hit the center of that target without even thinking twice, right?”
    “I’d kind of suck at my job if I couldn’t.” With the table ready for dinner, he crossed the floor to stand next to her.
    She eased the still-warm potatoes into an oversized bowl, addi ng the parsley and eyeballing some salt and pepper into the mix. “And you don’t even think twice about it, do you? You can aim and shoot and hit the center of the target just like breathing or driving a car.”
    “Being able to shoot accurately is part of my job.”
    “And good knife skills are part of mine.”
    Serenity finished assembling the meal, giving her war m potato salad a drizzle of balsamic and olive oil before stirring it all to perfection. Under normal circumstances, she’d plow through the stuff like a lumberjack, but under the current stress-soaked conditions, her appetite had pulled a definite Houdini.
    Ironic, since she’d c ooked enough in the last few days to feed an entire platoon.
    She dished up healthy-sized portions of both the sandwiches and potato salad for Jason, making herself an identical plate in the hopes that the sight of the food might kic k-start her love affair with carbs and bacon back into gear. But rather than letting Serenity bring the plates to the table, Jason took them from her, gesturing for her to sit.
    “Can’t say I’m really used to that,” she said, indicating the table with a thankful tilt of her head.
    “ And I can’t say I’m really used to having someone cook for me. It’s the least I can do.”
    Silence cropped up between them, punctuated only by the soft sounds of the meal being eaten and the rustle of fabric as Jason pushed the sleeves of his dark blue button-down shirt over his forearms. They’d kept things politely distanced ever since he’d given her the bold-faced truth, and while Serenity