Free True Colours (The You Don't Know Me Trilogy Book 2) by Mandy Lee Page B

asks.
    ‘Just my sister.’
    He still has his back to me, but there’s an instant change in his stance: his shoulders tighten and his back stiffens, just a little.  I watch in silence as he takes the first pan and drains it over the sink, releasing a cloud of steam.  When he’s finished, he transfers the contents to a bowl.
    ‘You two are going to have to talk at some point.’  I slide my mobile onto the counter.
    I’m pretty sure he shakes his head at that.  Moving to one side, he takes the second pan, adds the contents to the bowl and then he sets about stirring it all up with a huge wooden spoon.  I’m half tempted to just enjoy the sight of a sex god making me dinner, but I’ve got work to do.
    ‘I know it’s not easy for you.’
    He turns, bowl in hands.
    ‘Puttanesca.’
    ‘Pardon?’
    ‘Spaghetti alla Puttanesca.’  Joining me at the counter, he slides the bowl onto the top and kisses the end of his fingers, Italian style.  ‘Just for you.’
    ‘You’re not going to distract me with food.’
    ‘If I wanted to distract you, I wouldn’t use food.’  He takes a seat on a stool opposite me.
    ‘You’ve got to talk to her.’
    ‘And I will.’  Picking up a pair of huge silver spoons, he dishes out a serving for me, tears off a piece of bread and places it onto my side plate.  ‘Eat.’
    He watches me, and I watch him right back, incapable of working out what’s going on behind that perfect face of his.  At last, his features soften.
    ‘I’ll do it, Maya.  I promise.  But let’s not talk about it tonight.  Let’s just eat.’  He pushes the plate further towards me.  ‘And then let’s fuck.’
    I’m not entirely sure if it’s his words that cause it, or the way he’s looking at me right now, his eyes dancing with promise, lips curled up into a knowing smile, but suddenly, for some reason, something seems to be pulsating between my legs.
    ‘How romantic,’ I comment.
    ‘Eat.’
    This time, I do exactly as I’m told.  Picking up a fork, I twirl it through the spaghetti, silently triumphant when I finally manage to catch a single strand.  Before it can escape, I shovel it into my mouth, savouring the taste.
    ‘This is gorgeous,’ I mutter, going in for more with a spoon.  ‘What’s in it?’
    ‘Tomatoes, anchovies, capers, garlic, chili peppers.’  Dishing out his own serving, he reels off the list as if it’s nothing.
    I gobble up another mouthful, this time managing to collect spaghetti and sauce.  God, I’m so hungry.  A single fish finger sandwich in over twenty-four hours just doesn’t cut it, especially when you’re halfway through a shag fest with Mr Foster.
    ‘So, you can cook?’
    ‘A bit.’
    ‘How come?’
    ‘Betty taught me the basics.’  He takes a mouthful of pasta and chews.  ‘And I went from there.’
    ‘Mmm,’ I muse.  ‘I’ve landed on my feet.’
    ‘Of course you have.’
    While we settle into a comfortable silence, devouring the piles of spaghetti, I take every opportunity to admire the man in my life.  At last, I just can’t hold it in any longer.  Egged on by a contented stomach, my heart brims over with happiness and I’m suddenly consumed by a need to let Dan know how bloody wonderful he is.
    ‘I’ve got the perfect man,’ I muse.
    He looks up from his plate.  ‘How come?’
    ‘Well, for a start, he’s good in bed.’
    ‘Excellent in bed,’ he corrects me.
    ‘And he’s fucking gorgeous.’
    ‘If you say so.’
    ‘With a perfect backside.’
    ‘Is it?’  He shifts to one side, pretending to inspect his bottom.
    ‘God, yes.  Those receptionists in the lobby eye it up whenever they can.’
    ‘Remind me to sack them.’
    He levels his gaze at me.
    ‘And he can cook.  He’s the real deal.’
    ‘Of course he is.’  He points his fork at me.  ‘And you should move in with him.’
    I should have seen myself walking straight into that one.
    ‘Are we heading towards a yes?’ he asks, expertly