Free Summer Desserts by Nora Roberts Page B

stubborn a woman to back down.
    “I’m curious about why you insisted on seeing me tonight.” A commercial on floor wax flicked across the television screen. Summer glanced at it before turning to Blake. “Why don’t you explain?”
    He took a plastic fork and sampled the coleslaw. “The professional reason or the personal one?”
    He answered a question with a question too often, she decided. It was time to pin him down. “Why don’t you take it one at a time?”
    How did she eat this stuff? he wondered as he dropped the fork back into the box. When you looked at her you could see her in the most elegant of restaurants—flowers, French wine, starchily correct waiters. She’d be wearing silk and toying with some exotic dessert.
    Summer rubbed the bottom of one bare foot over the top of the other while she took another bite of chicken. Blake smiled even as he asked himself why she attracted him.
    “Business first then. We’ll be working together closely for several months at least. I think it’s wise if we get to know each other—find out how the other works so we can make the proper adjustments when necessary.”
    “Logical.” Summer plucked out a couple of French fries before offering the box to Blake. “It’s just as well that you find out up front that I don’t make adjustments at all. I work only one way—my way. So…personal?”
    He enjoyed her confidence and the complete lack of compromise. He planned to explore the first and undo the second. “Personally, I find you a beautiful, interesting woman.” Dipping his hand into the box, he watched her. “I want to take you to bed.” When she said nothing, he nibbled on a fry. “And I think we should get to know each other first.” Her stare was direct and unblinking. He smiled. “Logical?”
    “Yes, and egotistical. You seem to have your share of both qualities. But—” she wiped her fingers on the napkin before she picked up the soda again “—you’re honest. I admire honesty in other people.” Rising, she looked down at him. “Finished?”
    His gaze remained as cool as hers while he handed her the box. “Yeah.”
    “I happen to have a couple of éclairs in the fridge, if you’re interested.”
    “Supermarket special?”
    Her lips curved, slowly, slightly. “No. I do have some standards. They’re mine.”
    “Then I could hardly insult you by turning them down.”
    This time she laughed. “I’m sure diplomacy’s your only motive.”
    “That, and basic gluttony,” he added as she walked away. She’s a cool one, Blake reflected, thinking back to her reaction, or lack of one, to his statement about taking her to bed. The coolness, the control, intrigued him. Or perhaps more accurately, challenged him.
    Was it a veneer? If it was, he’d like the opportunity to strip off the layers. Slowly, he decided, even lazily, until he found the passion beneath. It would be there—he imagined it would be like one of her desserts—dark and forbidden beneath a cool white icing. Before too much time had passed, Blake intended to taste it.
    Her hands weren’t steady. Summer cursed herself as she opened the refrigerator. He’d shaken her—just as he’d meant to. She only hoped he hadn’t been able to see through her offhand response. Yes, he’d intended to shake her, but he’d said precisely what he’d meant. That she understood. At the moment, she didn’t have the time to absorb and dissect her feelings. There was only her first reaction—not shock, not outrage, but a kind of nervous excitement she hadn’t experienced in years.
    Silly, Summer told herself while she arranged éclairs on twoMeissen plates. She wasn’t a teenager who delighted in fluttery feelings. Nor would she tolerate being informed she was about to become someone’s lover. Affairs, she knew, were dangerous, time-consuming and distracting. And there always seemed to be one party who was more involved, therefore, more vulnerable, than the other. She wouldn’t allow