Free Stay With Me by Sharla Lovelace Page A

shoulder at him, smiling softly, attempting something like demure. Something completely out of my range. “Is that right?”

    “Yes, ma’am.”

    Damn, he was sexy, and all my little nerve endings knew it. I had to look back down at the pot before I did something reckless like lick him. Still, there was that annoying little bug in my ear, buzzing around, needing to be swatted. Duncan needed to swat it. He needed to up it from sexy to steamy, so I could be totally on my game. A week ago, I would have already been a melted puddle in his kitchen.

    Then again, maybe this was better. I wasn’t hyperventilating or sweating through my ugly underwear. Yet.

     

    • • •

     

    Dinner was orgasmic.

    The steak was perfect, every bite nearly dissolving into flavor upon contact with my tongue. The potatoes were salty and sweet at the same time and whatever the hell I’d had to keep stirring was to die for. I was really grateful for the granola bars earlier, because as it was I was nearly slurping off the plate.

    “Mmm,” I moaned for probably the fifteenth time, as I mixed a bite of meat and sauce. When I opened my eyes that I’d closed in the throes of ecstasy, Duncan was watching.

    I felt the color flood my neck up to my scalp.

    “Yes?” I said, swallowing quickly.

    He smiled and gave a slow shake of his head, studying me reverently.

    “I love watching you eat,” he said.

    Oh, God. My jaw dropped, the pink of my neck and face felt like it went neon with mortification, and he laughed as he set down his fork.

    “No, I mean, I’ve never seen a woman have such a visceral reaction to taste,” he said.

    I grabbed the water glass I’d opted for instead of wine, although I was beginning to rethink that decision if he was going to throw around words like visceral.

    “I do love good food,” I said, trying to shrug off the glowing heat. “I don’t know how to make any of it, but I do know how to appreciate it.”

    Duncan chuckled again over his wineglass. “Well, I’ll have to see what I can do about that.”

    That sounded suspiciously like second date code and sent my stomach into the shimmies, especially the way his eyes settled on me, all solid and unblinking. Like we’d been together for a month instead of one coffee date. I could get used to being looked at like that.

    “I’m glad I didn’t blow it too badly this morning,” I managed to say as my heartbeat sped up. “I might have missed all this.”

    He shook his head slowly, not breaking eye contact. “Honestly, you could have probably thrown your second cup of coffee on me, too, and I would have still asked you over.”

    “Really?”

    His eyes narrowed playfully. “Is that admitting too much?”

    “Maybe that you like—” Pain? Don’t go there. “—a challenge?”

    Amusement tugged at his lips. “Maybe. Or it could just be you. Are you a challenge?”

    “Completely,” I said, bringing a deep laugh from him. I took the last bite of potatoes and worked really hard not to make a sound. “Seriously, you could be a chef, Duncan,” I said. “Did you ever think about that?”

    He shrugged and speared a potato. “For a little while I kind of played with the idea. Took those classes I mentioned and fantasized about the white jacket.”

    A chuckle bubbled up. “You would totally rock the jacket.”

    The sexy grin that played on his face just about rocked me . “Well, that’s good to know,” he said. “Maybe one day I’ll retire from scrubs and trade up.”

    “So you didn’t always want to be a vet?” I asked.

    “Nope, I wanted to be a pilot,” he said. “Or a cowboy.”

    “Well!” I said, laughing. “Lofty goals.”

    His gaze turned down in a mock show of despair. “Turns out I wasn’t really cut out to be a cowboy,” he said.

    “Damn, the luck.”

    “I know,” he said. “It really broke my spirit. I was all about the horses.”

    I grinned. “And the pilot idea?”

    His playfulness waned for a