Читать книгу A Lick and a Promise - Jo Leigh - Страница 9

MARGOT PLACED THE FIRST PIZZA on the grill, then the second. She stepped back, almost tripping on her little flower box, the one she was preparing for herbs. Her flowers were doing really well, but the herb thing was giving her fits. She’d tried basil, marjoram, dill, parsley and a bunch of others, but the only thing that had grown successfully was the parsley. But, she’d give it another go. Maybe get some grow lights.

Devon joined her outside, closing the sliding-glass door behind him. “So, what do you think?

She smiled. “He’s yummy plus ten.”

“No kidding. If I wasn’t—”

“But you are.”

“Very.”

“And he’s not.”

Devon sighed. “Nope. Straight as an arrow. But you know my philosophy.”

“Right. No man is truly straight. Only uneducated.”

Devon lifted his highball glass. “Amen.”

She looked past him to see the man in question, still wearing his jacket and tie, smiling rather confusedly at Anya. “I want to rip off his clothes—”

“Margot!”

“—and put him in some Dolce & Gabbana. Hell, even Tommy Hilfiger would be better than that getup.”

Devon stood next to her, watching Daniel. “He works out.”

“You think?”

“I saw him without the jacket. Yep.”

“Ah, nice.”

“So, you going for it?”

“Oh, yeah.”

He turned, putting his free hand on her shoulder. “I meant for the whole nine yards.”

“Oh.”

“Come on, babycakes. This boy needs you. Look at him. He doesn’t have a clue. Face it, it’s destiny.”

“Dev, the guy just moved in. I’ve talked to him for thirty seconds.”

“I knew the moment I laid eyes on him. He’s for you. Ready to be molded by your incredible style. He’s clay, darling. Unformed. Pliable. Needy.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see. I can’t make a decision that momentous until I learn some things.”

“Like what?”

She checked her pizzas. They were almost done. The serving platters and the cutter were at the ready. “I have no clue if the man has a sense of humor. And as we all know, that’s a deal breaker.”

“That’s it?”

“No. He also needs to be teachable.”

“He moved here from Greenwich, Connecticut. He’s teachable.”

“Unless he’s clueless.”

He turned around to face the door. “He’s too delicious to dismiss out of hand. Take off those glasses, give him a decent haircut, and honey, it wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t tie his own shoes.”

“Devon, go inside.”

“Spoilsport.”

She gave him a little push, and he went to join the others. Margot got busy with the pizza, transferring it onto the platter and cutting it into pieces. All the while, she kept thinking about Daniel. Devon was right. He was the most scrumptious man she’d seen in years. Totally adorable. And clearly in need of her particular talents. But would he go for it? And did she want it to be more than a makeover?

She thought about her friends online, and how she hadn’t been participating with the group much since she got her new job. Eve’s Apple was what they called themselves. A group of brilliant and witty women from all over the country who met in a chat room to talk about life, books, sex. Several years ago, the original founders of the group had begun something called Men To Do. The premise was that there were men out there who were completely inappropriate for the long term. Dangerous men. Foolish choices. Men you wouldn’t take home to mother.

Margot had participated in every aspect of Eve’s Apple, except for that last one. She’d thought about having a Man To Do, but when push came to shove, she’d never found anyone she wanted like that.

These men were for sex only. Not relationships. And despite being too hip to live, according to her friends, Margot was a throwback to a different time. A die-hard romantic, which was not exactly in sync with her New York lifestyle. She didn’t want a tissue of a guy, to discard after one use. She wanted a keeper. But as time went by, and she got older and older—jeez, next March she’d be thirty—the reality of her life was getting harder to deny. She was lonely. Not for friends, she had those in spades. But for love. Or at least lust. The whole vibrator thing was getting old fast. She wanted someone to share her bed. And who knows, maybe Daniel Houghton III was the ticket.

She finished slicing the pizza and went inside. The gang glommed on to the food as if they hadn’t eaten in weeks. All except Daniel, of course, who still looked as if he’d been transported through the looking glass. Poor baby. He had no idea what to make of his fellow tenants. His widened gaze moved over the group and ended up locking with hers. She smiled. He smiled back.

Oh, my. Heart flutters. Flutters lower down. All kinds of inexplicable flutters. She moved toward him, bearing appetizers. “Care for some?”

He hadn’t looked away. Barely even blinked. Something was happening here. She wasn’t sure if he was scared to death or interested. She chose to believe it was interest.

He finally glanced at the remainder of the pizza and took a small piece. She had time to admire his lovely teeth while he took a bite. Excellent hygiene. A plus in anyone’s book. But God, she wanted to see him without that jacket. Actually, she wanted to see him in a lot less than that, but she’d settle.

She swung her platter-bearing hand to the right. “Take these, will ya?”

The platter was gone, and she had absolutely no interest in who’d taken over as hostess. Her focus was on Daniel. “It’s just us,” she said.

He blinked. She loved when he did that. Confusion on Daniel was like caviar on a blini. “Pardon?”

“Us. The gang. Informal.”

This time he didn’t blink. But his right eyebrow arched delightfully.

She decided to give him a tiny hint. Moving none too quickly—she didn’t want him to spook—she maneuvered herself behind him, then reached over his broad shoulders and gently took hold of his lapels.

He jumped, and she thought she heard a little gasp. But he didn’t stop her as she stripped him of the offending garment. She was so taken with what lay beneath, she let the jacket slip from her fingers.

Oh, he did work out. Yes indeedy. Those broad shoulders needed no help from padding. Her fingers itched to keep on going. To take off the purple tie, un-button the oxford shirt. Touch the heat of his flesh. But since she didn’t want him to run screaming to the police, she did the next best thing. She looked down at his butt.

Slim hips. Nice, nice, nice. And what an ass. She knew. She was something of a connoisseur when it came to that part of the anatomy, and if his wasn’t worthy of a ten-minute standing ovation, then nothing was.

God, what an incredible hypocrite she was. She hated it when men were only interested in her body, either pro or con. Thought it was shallow and despicable. And here she was drooling over this virtual stranger. It was awful. Horrible. She’d have a serious talk with herself after she got in bed tonight. Eventually.

He turned, surprised to find his jacket puddled on the hardwood floor. “Is it dead?”

She grinned. “Not yet. Just wounded.”

“I promise, next time I’ll try harder to fit in.”

“No. You’re perfect.”

He blushed. She couldn’t believe how bad she was being. She was obviously channeling Samantha from Sex and the City. Cool.

After clearing his throat, he shook his head a little, and gave her a real hard look, squinching his eyes and everything. “I don’t know how to talk to you.”

“Most people don’t.”

“Does it get easier?”

She sighed. “Oh, yeah. Well, for the most part. I can be pretty strange.”

“You sure make a mean pizza.”

She grabbed his upper arms. Both of them. “Pizza.”

“What?”

“Come with me.”

He looked briefly to his left, to the door, then back at her. “Uh, now?”

“Yes, now.” She let his shoulders go, but grabbed his hand, just in case he wanted to make a break for it. They walked past the big couch, the one she’d recovered in a dreamy cream suede, where Corrie, Anya and Rocco were laughing, past the hutch she’d gotten from her mother, into the kitchen.

The dough was on the counter. “You ever make a pizza?”

“I’ve ordered plenty.”

She nodded. “Good enough.” She handed him the rolling pin. “Roll it out.”

He took to his task with the kind of concentration usually reserved for neurosurgeons. Eyebrows together, straight front teeth chewing on the lower lip. He attacked the round ball of dough, first pressing too hard, then easing up so much he didn’t make a dent. But he learned quickly. Soon, he had the right pressure, he even had turned the dough and smoothed it out to a really even oval.

“You were kidding me, right?” she asked. “You studied pizza making for years.”

He smiled and the effect it had on his face was nothing less then stellar. Holy Chihuahua! Before she could stop herself, she reached up and slipped his glasses off his face. His eyes widened with surprise. They were blue. Cerulean blue, which she’d seen on paint samples, but never on a living human. A person could swim in those eyes. Even his eyelashes made her swoon. Thick, dark, long.

“I need those,” he said.

“Why?”

“To see.”

“No. Why not contacts?”

“I tried them once. They were annoying.”

“A little like me, huh?”

“You’re not annoying.”

“Ha.” She got out the tomato sauce and the pepperoni. “Another, please,” she said, nodding at the dough.

Daniel immediately went to work, this time very much at ease. “You’re not. You’re just different.”

“From?”

“Other people I know.”

“Ah.”

He paused, took his glasses from where she’d left them on the counter and put them back on. “So you’re a food stylist?”

“Yep.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

“I make food look yummy. For magazines and television and at parties.”

“I’ve heard they use mashed potatoes instead of ice cream on TV.”

“Sometimes. Mashed potatoes don’t melt under the lights.”

He worked some more on the dough, this time making a perfect round. “How’d you get into food styling?”

She spread the sauce on the first pizza. “My parents owned a grocery store. Brooklyn’s answer to Zabar’s.”

“Gourmet stuff?”

“Mostly cheeses and specialty items. But my mother used to like to give samples to the customers, and I liked to make the displays pretty.”

“So it was a natural progression to doing the same thing professionally.”

“Exactamundo.”

He grinned. “Is there a lot of competition?”

“Lots. But I’m really, really good at it.”

“I imagine you are.”

Corrie walked into the kitchen. “Anya says her dinner is going to die an unnatural death if we don’t go up to her place in five.”

Margot frowned. “Okay. You guys go. Daniel and I will finish up the pizzas and bring them in ten.”

Corrie nodded, but her gaze stayed on Daniel. “So what do you think?”

“About what?”

“Us. This. Margot.”

“It’s interesting. Not at all like Greenwich.”

“That’s a pretty big jump,” Margot said as she spread pepperoni. “Why Chelsea?”

“I was ready for a change. Something big.”

“Why?”

He shook his head. “You don’t give up, do you?”

Margot stopped. Looked him right in the eyes. “Not until I get what I want.”

Daniel’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “I see.”

She smiled. She still didn’t know why he’d moved to Chelsea, but she did know for certain why he’d moved to this building. To meet her, that’s why. To become an adventure. A challenge. He might have been ready for something big, but she had the feeling he had no idea just how big the change was going to be.

“Well, I’ll just see you two upstairs,” Corrie said. She touched Daniel on the upper arm. “Don’t be scared,” she said, her voice gentle and calming. “She won’t hurt you.”

Daniel put down the rolling pin. “I’m not so sure.”

Corrie laughed as she headed for the others.

Margot added the toppings to the first pizza, then stepped back. “Get creative, Daniel. Make this the best pizza you’ve ever had.”

He looked at her in that way of his, as if he was trying to see underneath her mask to the alien life-form underneath. “Well, that wouldn’t involve pineapple and ham.”

She leaned against the counter to watch him. And as she suspected, he went traditional. Tomato sauce, oregano, garlic, sausage and mozzarella. With all the fresh, tasty surprises she’d spread out before him, he’d gone for the white bread. The mayo. As she saw it, she had a duty to step in. To introduce this man to the cornucopia of treats all around him. He lived in New York, for heaven’s sake, the melting pot of the world, where one could get anything, anywhere, anytime. The hell with contact lenses, he needed to expand his frame of reference, to step out of the box he’d built around his life.

She had no idea about his architecture, but she’d be willing to bet her new job that it was as constricted and narrow as his pizza.

What she wasn’t sure about was if he was willing to truly open his eyes, but so far, she had a good feeling about it. Hell, he’d put up with her weirdness, and she’d caused more than one man to leave skid marks on their mad dash out of her life.

He stepped back, eyed his creation. Then he reached for the basil.

Her heart swelled as he tore it into bits and sprinkled it over the cheese.

When he was finished, he turned to her, his eager smile proud, yet a little unsure.

She nodded. “Very, very nice.”

“Fresh basil, huh?”

“One of nature’s incredible wonders,” she said, moving toward him. “And there’s more.”

His smile faltered the closer she got, but he stood his ground.

“There’s rosemary and marjoram. Dill and lemon-grass. All of them fragrant, some of them spicy. Meant to be tasted. Savored.”

He swallowed again, and she couldn’t blame him. She’d totally invaded his personal space. In fact, she was so near him she could smell the hint of his cologne, feel the heat of his breath on her cheek.

“You ready?” she asked.

“For what?” His voice was just above a whisper.

“Adventure. Excitement. Derring-do.”

He blinked again. It was incredibly endearing and she wanted to lick his chin like a cat. “Sure.”

“Okay then,” she said. “Let’s get those pizzas on the grill.”

His mouth opened, but no words came out.

She sighed with happiness, then turned to the counter again. “Thank you,” she whispered, to whoever was responsible.

He didn’t move at all as she took the laden boards and left the kitchen. Hopefully, he’d join her. He wouldn’t bolt, even though she’d left him the opportunity. She focused on her job, getting the food on the grill.

She didn’t even look up when she heard the sliding-glass door open. She simply smiled.