Page 43 of Hollywood King
Isobel flashed in my head again.No.I couldn’t let someone take him simply because I was too chicken shit to put myself out there.
I hit the bell and squared my shoulders. Heath opened the door a few seconds later and held out his hand for me to take it. I slid my chilled fingers across his warm palm and relaxed a measure at the contact. Maybe Eddy was right. He didn’t need me to be anyone else, just me.
He led me back to the kitchen and sat me on the stool at the counter. Places had already been set side by side. “Wine, oh…” He spun around and riffled in a cabinet and produced a bottle of bourbon.
I popped the cork and took a deep breath, mouth open as I drew in the whiskey scented air, caramel, vanilla. “I think that will be nice. Can you do a double on ice?”
“The way you did that was kind of hot?”
I shrugged. “I came with seduction in mind.”
As he prepared my drink, his lips twisted into a smile. “Seduction huh? Should I play hard to get?”
“I’m pretty sure ten years apart is as hard to get as you could manage.”
With a flourish, he dropped a big round ice cube into the glass and slid it across the counter. “So, is that you telling me you want me to stop playing hard to get? I can play easy, strip naked, and lay on the countertop for you.”
“That sounds unsanitary.”
His chuckle soothed something in my soul. I started to relax a little, aided by the liquor and the delicious scent of whatever he cooked on the stove.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Absolutely.” I swirled the bourbon around my glass and watched as he plated a chicken pasta concoction. My mouth watered as he put it in front of me and then sat down to dig into his own.
I ate half the plate without a word, and when I finally looked up, he sat staring at me, a proud smile aimed my way. “What?”
“Nothing. I’m glad you like my food.”
I checked and arranged my hair around my ears so he didn’t see the blush there. “You’re a good cook. I didn’t know.” In fact, I didn’t think I’d ever seen him cook anything, so how could I have known?
He leaned in, and the scent of him chased away all food related thoughts. “Can I tell you a secret?”
I couldn’t answer so I nodded.
“Cooking is like my meditation. It helps me relax, work through problems. Which is why I never saw the need to hire a chef like everyone else around here.”
Clearing my throat, I pushed my plate away and shifted to face him on the stool. “It’s healthy to have an escape like that to go to when things get tough.”
“What’s yours?”
I considered his question. “I don’t think I have an outlet like that.”
He trailed his hand over my bare shoulder brushing my hair back. “I could help if you wanted.”
“Help with what?”
His hand shifted down my arm, then my waist, and pulled me in closer. “Relaxing. Unwinding, an outlet as you called it.”
I blinked at him like an idiot, my throat dried up, and I couldn’t say anything to that so I nodded, once, but he didn’t need more than that.
He swept me into his arms and carried me down the hall to his room and placed me gently on his bed.
Then he left, I called, “Hey, where are you going?” A tiny ping in my brain furnished the idea he had run for it.
He returned a few seconds later with our drinks and the bottle of bourbon. I lay back on the bed. “You’re a very smart man.”
Balancing the items perfectly, he deposited the bottle and tumblers on his bedside table and turned toward me. I felt the look he gave me all the way to my bones. Every cell in my body seemed to wake up as he scanned me from high heel to chignon.
