Page 26 of Dream Date With the Millionaire
“These are sinfully good.”
“Not sinful.” Dani’s smile reached her eyes, raising Bryce’s temperature a degree or two. “Criminal, maybe.”
No way could a woman who looked as hot as Dani did tonight and cooked delicious candies be a spy. Bryce picked up another one of her homemade bonbons. “I need more evidence before I can make a final verdict.”
Lying on the blanket and resting on his elbows, he bit through the bittersweet chocolate covering to the softer Tiramisu inside. The flavors exploded in his mouth.
Sweet, moist, rich.
Like the cook herself? Bryce wouldn’t mind finding out.
She watched him. “What’s the verdict?”
“The calories are criminal, but worth it.”
Dani beamed.
Bryce liked how a simple comment or compliment pleased her so much. She wasn’t like other women he’d dated, who wanted to eat at the newest restaurants and go to the hippest clubs. Dani seemed content to be with him, no matter where that might be—a park, sidewalk, café. And when he was with her everything cluttering his brain seemed to magically disappear.
He wasn’t in the market for a girlfriend, but he could get used to this. Her.
As she picked up a bonbon, her hair shifted forward. With a flip of her head, she sent the hair back behind her shoulder. The movement was subtle yet sexy, especially with the slight bounce of her breasts.
He reached for his wineglass.
“I haven’t made bonbons in a while,” Dani said. “I forgot how good they are.”
She raised the white chocolate-covered candy to her mouth. Her pink lips parted, then closed around the bonbon.
Heat rushed through Bryce’s veins. He jerked his gaze away from her and focused on the lake. He’d rather stare at her full lips or sensuous curves, but he didn’t want her to compare him to the other men she’d dated. Guys like that jerk from the other night or the ones who didn’t remember her eyes were a spectacular shade of blue.
“My compliments to the chef.”
She bowed her head.
He picked up another. “Bet you have to know how to boil water to make these.”
“That skill might come in handy, but it’s not necessary,” she explained. “They are easy to make unless you mind getting dirty. By the time you’re finished, your fingers will be covered in chocolate sauce.”
Bryce grinned. “I don’t mind dirty, especially if chocolate is involved.”
“If you’re interested in learning how to make them, I’ll show you.”
“Sure.” Dani and chocolate together. That was a no-brainer combination. “But I’ll warn you now, I’m not much of a cook. I grill but that’s the extent of my cooking talent. It’s kind of a family joke.”
“So you weren’t kidding about boiling water?”
“I can do a little more that that, but I avoid recipes requiring oil and frying.”
“Were flames involved?” Dani asked.
“Fire, smoke, a call to 9-1-1,” he admitted.
Her eyes widened. “What happened?”
He gave a half-shrug, still embarrassed after all these years. “I tried to make French fries one day when the cook was sick. Unfortunately, I made two critical errors. I took the telephone to my mother, who was in another room, while frying. I also left the bag of potatoes sitting on the counter right next to the gas stove top.”
“Uh-oh.”
“The fire investigator wasn’t sure which caught fire first, the oil or the plastic. By the time I returned to the kitchen, both were fully engaged in flames and the room covered in thick smoke. My mother and sister ran in while I was trying to put out the fire. I kept trying to remember what I’d learned about fires. One phrase kept running through my mind so I yelled it, ‘Stop, drop and roll.’ My mother dragged us outside and called 9-1-1. I wanted to go back in and use the fire extinguisher, but she wouldn’t let me. She said kitchens could be replaced. Children couldn’t. So I stayed outside, watching the flames grow and the smoke billow out.”
“What happened to the house?” Dani asked.
“The kitchen had to be gutted and redone. The rest of the house had some smoke damage, but was okay.” He smiled. “As soon as the damage was repaired, my mother had our cook fill the freezer with bags of frozen French fries. Sometimes, my mother still brings me a bag when she comes over.”
“That’s cute.”
“Try embarrassing.”
“That, too.” She smiled. “But now that I know about your cooking abilities, do you mind if we make the bonbons at your place? Just in case there’s another fire. I don’t have renter’s insurance at my apartment.”
