take in the scene.
Luna’s home was small, but meticulously cleaned and organized. The kitchen table, covered with a long bone-white linen tablecloth, was topped with full place settings, white taper candles, and an open bottle of Chianti left to breathe before dinner. Luna produced a lighter and set flame to the candles.
“I hope you like lasagna. It’s one of the only things I can cook with any kind of consistent results.”
“Sounds good.” Angie had eaten very little all day because of her nervousness about her first official date in months. The delicious smells wafting out of Luna’s kitchen brought her hunger back full force.
Luna poured Angie a glass of wine. “I just need to warm the bread. You can wait in the living room if you’d like, pick some music perhaps?”
Angie took a small sip of wine. She preferred to stay and watch Luna cook, but she nodded and went in search of Luna’s CD collection. Along with the expected rock, Luna had a few surprises. Angie selected her favorite Al Green and swayed with the music as she returned to Luna.
“Great choice.” Luna popped a Kalamata olive into her mouth. “Want an olive?”
“Sure.” Angie reached for the bowl, which Luna quickly pulled away.
“Let me.” Luna held the small fruit to Angie’s lips, the juice dripping from her fingers. Angie opened her mouth, closed her eyes, and extended her tongue. She took it delicately from Luna, and the slight contact as Luna’s fingers brushed against her tongue thrilled her. She savored the eroticism of the moment, along with the rich, meaty olive. When she opened her eyes, Luna was staring at her, her eyes dark and intense.
“You are going to make the three-foot rule very difficult, aren’t you?” It was barely a whisper.
Angie turned away and gulped a mouthful of wine. “Is dinner almost ready?”
“Almost.” Luna set the dangerous bowl of olives on the table next to a small tray of Caprese. Angie loved the simple salad of mozzarella, basil, and tomato.
“Can I help?”
Luna put a bowl of bread on the table next to the lasagna and said, “No, that’s everything.” She held out Angie’s chair for her and waited for her to be seated. With Angie snuggled up close to the table, Luna placed her hands on Angie’s shoulders and spoke into her ear. “I really hope you like this.”
Angie shivered. Luna’s hot breath against her ear and glancing off her neck made her want to turn her head and capture Luna’s lips in a kiss. She remembered the way they felt barely there against her own. That aborted, nonexistent kiss had melted Angie. The memory of it stayed with her, taunting her with how good the real thing would feel. Would it match her imagination?
Angie barely managed to answer. “Looks good.”
Luna lingered for a few moments longer, her lips close to, but not touching, Angie’s skin. Angie held her breath, caught in Luna’s steady inhale and exhale. Luna’s hands eased away from Angie’s shoulders, her fingertips brushing the bare skin of her upper arm, and she stepped away. Angie forced air into her lungs.
“Here,” Luna cut a portion of lasagna, “let me serve you.” She dished it on to Angie’s plate, along with some Caprese.
After she filled her own plate, Luna sat opposite Angie. Thank God. Her close proximity was driving Angie nuts.
Angie took a bite of the lasagna. “Delicious.” She closed her eyes and savored the flavor. It was better than Jack’s, not a small feat. “Who taught you to cook?”
Luna scratched her bicep and hesitated before answering. “My mom.”
“Yeah? Are the two of you close?” Angie took another bite.
“Yes, we were.” Luna tucked into her salad, avoiding eye contact.
Already Angie regretted asking that. The answer was obviously making Luna uncomfortable. Still, she continued. “Were?”
Luna stopped eating and placed her fork carefully next to her plate. “She died several years ago.”
“Oh.” Angie had no idea what to say.