her diaphragm, Sierra put her finger to her nose and let out a big, bad oink. The shrill squeal split the air and down the block a dog barked in response. Sierra smiled, pleased that she hadn’t lost her touch. “Is that why you skipped the party?” The deep voice came from the shadows at the bottom of the steps. “So you could practice barnyard sounds?” Sierra heart leaped to her throat and she grasped the railing to steady herself. “Matt. What are you doing here?”
Matt had come from the other side of the house only minutes before and caught sight of her standing on the veranda. His initial reaction had been relief; at least she wasn’t lying unconscious somewhere. The next was anger; she had stood him up. The temptation had been strong to call out to her, but he’d resisted the impulse, waiting first to see if she was alone. When no one appeared, he’d started toward her, only to stop dead in his tracks at the ungodly sound splitting the night air. “What was that?” Matt gazed up at her from the steps leading to the porch. “It sounded just like a pig.” “It did sound pretty realistic.” Sierra’s smile widened and pride filled her voice. “I guess it is like riding a bike—once you’ve mastered the technique you’ve got it for life.” Matt ignored the comment and climbed the stairs, not waiting for an invitation. “It’s too bad California isn’t a big hog-calling state, or you could have a real career in front of you.” Her gaze narrowed and suspicion filled her eyes. “Are you teasing me?” “Maybe.” He found it impossible to keep from smiling. “That sound really threw me for a loop.” Sierra’s lips curved upward in an answering smile. “We all need to be thrown off course once in a while.” She looked so beautiful when she smiled that for a moment he could only stare. She didn’t need to be wearing an elegant evening gown to take his breath away. He paused, suddenly remembering why he was here. “About tonight—” “I’m sorry about standing you up.” She gathered up the rug and shot him an apologetic glance. “How about I explain everything over a cup of cocoa?” “Cocoa?” “With marshmallows,” she added. “The real stuff. Not from a box.” He shrugged and nodded, struck again by how lovely she looked in the moonlight. Her hair resembled spun gold and her eyes were wide and luminous. Her T-shirt and jeans accentuated her lean, curvy figure and sent his pulses racing. “Take a seat.” She gestured with one hand to two chairs that flanked a rustic table. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.” In a jiffy? Matt shook his head, sauntered to the table and sat down. He leaned back and loosened his tie. Maybe he’d lied to his dad. Maybe Elizabeth Carlyle was a little bit ditzy. And maybe he was a little crazy for finding her so attractive. True to her word, she returned several minutes later with two steaming mugs. “Enjoy.” Sierra placed a cup before him, took her own and sat down. The smell of rich chocolate mixed with the sweet scent of rapidly melting marshmallows tempted his taste buds. Though he’d always associated the drink with cold weather and roaring fires, he decided to give it a try. “Delicious,” he admitted after taking a sip. Sierra favored him with a smile. “My mother always said I made the best hot chocolate.” Matt took another sip. Based on how his father had described Stella, he was surprised the woman even knew what a kitchen was, much less encouraged her daughter’s culinary endeavors. “Don’t tell me you like to cook?” Try as he might, Matt couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice. “Very much.” Sierra nodded and took a sip of her own cocoa. A trace of the sticky sweetness coated her lips and she reached for her napkin. But Matt was quicker. His fingers curved over hers and he plucked the napkin from her hand. “Allow me.” Sierra smiled and puckered her lips. Matt groaned. He’d