Free The Perfect Dish by Kristen Painter Page A

assessment?”
    He let her hand slip from his and stood to go back behind the bar. “Close enough.”
    He refilled her glass with fresh ice water then made one for himself and took a long drink. Keeping his private life private had been a constant struggle, especially now with the book out and all the press he’d been getting. His deep need to protect his sister he understood. The need to protect his mother, he didn’t. You’re not protecting her, you’re protecting yourself and Shelby from her, he reminded himself.
    Mery looked at him expectantly. “Well? What did I get right? I’m curious.”
    “I’ll tell you on one condition,” he bargained.
    She toyed with the bar napkin, rolling the edge under her finger. “And that is?”
    “Have dinner with me tomorrow night. It’s the least you could do after that Hoffa comment.” He wanted to pat himself on the back for his own brilliance.
    “Since when does a chef have time for dinner?” She sipped her water. “Aren’t you the one cooking dinner?”
    “Not every night. I’m still in the restaurant but I’m not in the kitchen. Tuesdays I do paperwork, make table visits, stuff like that. I can make time for dinner, though. Swing by Sedona Tuesday night around seven and I’ll satisfy your curiosity.” Hopefully, he’d get to satisfy more than just her curiosity.
    She tapped her finger on the bar. “That sounds suspiciously like a date.”
    He feigned innocence. “In a crowded restaurant?”
    “Isn’t that where most dinner dates take place?”
    “You got me there.” He grinned. “So Tuesday then?”
    “I guess. Yes.” Her eyes closed briefly as she blew out a breath. “Why do I have such a hard time saying no to you?”
    Arms resting on the bar, he leaned in until he was almost close enough to kiss her. “Are you telling me the great Dr. Black can’t figure herself out?”
    To her credit, she didn’t pull back. “Just around you. I seem to do and say and think things I wouldn’t normally.”
    He put his hands on the edges of her seat and moved a little closer. The scent of her, sweet and spicy, washed over him and he wondered if she wasn’t working some magic of her own.
    “Like now?” he murmured. “Are you thinking about what it would be like to kiss me again?”
    When she didn’t answer, he lifted a strand of her hair and twisted it around his finger. “Or maybe you’re thinking about the way our bodies fit together on the bike.” He held the strand to his nose and inhaled. “You smell like apricots and vanilla.”
    “It’s...it’s the cheesecake,” she stuttered, not quite meeting his gaze.
    The strand of hair fell from his hand as his fingers traced the line of her jaw, lifting her head. “I bet you taste like apricots and vanilla, too.”
    He tipped her chin further so he could see her eyes. He wanted her to kiss him but he wasn’t going to ask. If she kissed him because of the influence of the persuasion spell, it wouldn’t be as sweet as if she kissed him because she wanted to. And he wanted her to. He wanted her to need to.
    She blew out a soft breath and slipped off her barstool, out of his grasp. “You’re very charming, I’ll give you that but I should go. I have...work to do.”
    Her hands were shaking, he was sure of it. He slid off his seat and leaned against the bar, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little ole boy , Dr. Black.”
    The coolness he’d come to expect from her resurfaced. She straightened, brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear and leveled her eyes at him. “I’m not afraid of you. This just isn’t a good idea.”
    The mood shattered. “Yeah, I know. You keep telling me that. I just don’t see what the big deal is. I like you. What’s wrong with that?”
    “A multitude of things.” She shook her head, dismissing any further conversation. “I really do have to go. I have edits to do and...other things.” she waved her hand in the