to so much trouble...”
“Cooking always soothes my soul.
Some men race cars, others play golf. Call me a metrosexual, but I bake. I hope
you like lamb.”
“I love lamb.”
“The cab sav will probably set off
the meal the best, but there’s a pinot gris chilling if you’d prefer.”
“The red is fine.”
The ritual of dining played out so
easily that the customs of good manners and the traditions of eating together
were somehow spinning a delicate truce between them. She noticed the music—something
dreamy and classical from the ancient transistor on the window sill. And the
rich aroma of herbs and meat when he opened the oven infused the whole space
with a warmth and hominess that transported her, for a moment, back to the
safety and security of childhood.
There was something seductively
easeful about Levi, she thought, and immediately forced herself to sit
straighter in her chair and raise her guard. The coziness and care he emanated
were beguiling and she would do well to resist the charm of the comfortable ambiance
he’d created and the soulful eyes promising serenity and security—and veiling a
mercenary heart, she reminded herself.
But it was difficult to think
clearly with all her senses indulged. The lamb was melt-in-her-mouth tender,
served with baby vegetables and aromatic herb bread he had baked from scratch.
He was right about the wine—it complemented the lavish gravy perfectly. And to
top it all off, he’d concocted a fresh pear tart, almost too beautiful to eat,
and he served the dessert with a splash of bitter chocolate sauce.
Most potent and bewitching of all
was the compelling company of Levi Callister.
“You must have been really stressed
to need that much soothing.” She sighed, leaning back in her chair and patting
her overstuffed tummy. “That was divine. You should run a restaurant.”
“I did for a while. I’ve also owned
a radio station, raced horses, dabbled in pharmaceuticals—the legal kind—set up
a shipping firm, and tried stockbroking...among other things.”
“Wow. And all I’ve done is write
movies.”
“I envy you that passion and
certainty,” he confessed. “I am always looking to the next thing—the next
trend, the next project…”
The
next lover, Cara thought, reflecting on his reputation in the
tabloids as a ladies’ man.
“Before I’ve even wound up the current
big thing, I’m already peeking ahead to see what’s next. It’s as though nothing
quite satisfies me. Some things get close, but nothing totally fills the hole.
Like I’m hungry for some sort of fulfilment I can never get.”
“That sounds really sad.” Her mind
flicked over the emptiness of her own maverick life where making films was the
only real substance and wondered if he wasn’t better off than she was. At least
he had a base—property, a business, a loving normal family.
He shrugged. “I guess I’m just
waiting for something to light me up the way writing lights you up. Something
worthy of my passion. Something that will hold my attention for longer than a
year or two.”
“Do you believe that something is
out there?”
“I have to believe it. Otherwise,
what’s the point?”
For a moment, he was quiet, smiling
inwardly as though remembering some happier time or wistfully projecting a
happier future. He looked stunning, she thought. Like every male fantasy she’d
ever had rolled into one gorgeous, sensuous man. She wanted him despite
everything. She craved the touch and taste of him, longed to feel his skin scorched
against hers, ached for the pleasures his sumptuous mouth promised. Would she
really risk the integrity of her film for another night with Levi? Would she
really throw caution to the wind and chance everything on this devilishly sexy
man? She swallowed thickly and tried to drag her eyes away from his contemplative
form.
Then the radio crackled and the
lights flickered and he came back to her.
“I gave Brian Shepherd a call this
afternoon,”
“Cooking always soothes my soul.
Some men race cars, others play golf. Call me a metrosexual, but I bake. I hope
you like lamb.”
“I love lamb.”
“The cab sav will probably set off
the meal the best, but there’s a pinot gris chilling if you’d prefer.”
“The red is fine.”
The ritual of dining played out so
easily that the customs of good manners and the traditions of eating together
were somehow spinning a delicate truce between them. She noticed the music—something
dreamy and classical from the ancient transistor on the window sill. And the
rich aroma of herbs and meat when he opened the oven infused the whole space
with a warmth and hominess that transported her, for a moment, back to the
safety and security of childhood.
There was something seductively
easeful about Levi, she thought, and immediately forced herself to sit
straighter in her chair and raise her guard. The coziness and care he emanated
were beguiling and she would do well to resist the charm of the comfortable ambiance
he’d created and the soulful eyes promising serenity and security—and veiling a
mercenary heart, she reminded herself.
But it was difficult to think
clearly with all her senses indulged. The lamb was melt-in-her-mouth tender,
served with baby vegetables and aromatic herb bread he had baked from scratch.
He was right about the wine—it complemented the lavish gravy perfectly. And to
top it all off, he’d concocted a fresh pear tart, almost too beautiful to eat,
and he served the dessert with a splash of bitter chocolate sauce.
Most potent and bewitching of all
was the compelling company of Levi Callister.
“You must have been really stressed
to need that much soothing.” She sighed, leaning back in her chair and patting
her overstuffed tummy. “That was divine. You should run a restaurant.”
“I did for a while. I’ve also owned
a radio station, raced horses, dabbled in pharmaceuticals—the legal kind—set up
a shipping firm, and tried stockbroking...among other things.”
“Wow. And all I’ve done is write
movies.”
“I envy you that passion and
certainty,” he confessed. “I am always looking to the next thing—the next
trend, the next project…”
The
next lover, Cara thought, reflecting on his reputation in the
tabloids as a ladies’ man.
“Before I’ve even wound up the current
big thing, I’m already peeking ahead to see what’s next. It’s as though nothing
quite satisfies me. Some things get close, but nothing totally fills the hole.
Like I’m hungry for some sort of fulfilment I can never get.”
“That sounds really sad.” Her mind
flicked over the emptiness of her own maverick life where making films was the
only real substance and wondered if he wasn’t better off than she was. At least
he had a base—property, a business, a loving normal family.
He shrugged. “I guess I’m just
waiting for something to light me up the way writing lights you up. Something
worthy of my passion. Something that will hold my attention for longer than a
year or two.”
“Do you believe that something is
out there?”
“I have to believe it. Otherwise,
what’s the point?”
For a moment, he was quiet, smiling
inwardly as though remembering some happier time or wistfully projecting a
happier future. He looked stunning, she thought. Like every male fantasy she’d
ever had rolled into one gorgeous, sensuous man. She wanted him despite
everything. She craved the touch and taste of him, longed to feel his skin scorched
against hers, ached for the pleasures his sumptuous mouth promised. Would she
really risk the integrity of her film for another night with Levi? Would she
really throw caution to the wind and chance everything on this devilishly sexy
man? She swallowed thickly and tried to drag her eyes away from his contemplative
form.
Then the radio crackled and the
lights flickered and he came back to her.
“I gave Brian Shepherd a call this
afternoon,”
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