the clock on the oven. "We're almost done," sh e announced to no one in partic ular. "As soon as we get the ingredients prepped, we'll quit for the night."
"Quit?" Ethan asked.
Rachel nodded. "I always do the ingredients the night before. It saves time with the baking."
LuAnne swiped another cutting board full of chopped chocolate into a bowl. "What time are we starting tomorrow?"
"Not too early," Abby said. "Rachel and I have Carlton's graduation party in the morning."
Rachel groaned. "I told you I don't have time for that. How am I supposed to get all this done by Monday?"
"I'll help," Ethan volunteered. "It'll make it go faster."
Abby looked at him with surprise. "I had no idea you were so domestically inclined."
"You're about to learn several things about me, Abby." He winked at her. "I've got stuff I'm dying to show you."
A t 12:30 a . m ., Ethan and Abby were the only ones left standing. They'd finished preparing the ingredients a little after midnight. LuAnne had staggered to the guest room, while Rachel had curled up on the sofa and fallen asleep in front of the TV during a rerun of Iron Chef. Ethan had the advantage of West Coast time on his side—his internal clock said it was shortly after ten-thirty. Abby had dumped mixing bowls and utensils in the sink and was scrubbing them hard enough to wear down the stainless steel.
With a slight smile, Ethan eased up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. They tensed. She kept scrubbing, so he started rubbing the knotted muscles. "Tough week?" he asked.
She sighed. "You could say that."
"I was expecting you to call."
She dropped a large spoon into the sudsy water. Her head came up, and she met his gaze in the reflection of the kitchen window. "Why?"
He tipped his head to one side. "Why not?" He rubbed his h ands down her arms. "Are you an noyed with me?"
She shook her head. "I just want to know what you're doing here."
He wasn't sure he knew how to answer that. "My assistant told me I've been acting like a jerk. I gave it some thought, and realized there was some unsettled business between us."
"You said you were coming back Tuesday."
He studied her reflection, trying to decide if she was being sarcastic. "I said certain other things to you that night too. Things that warranted a little more attention."
"I don't think—"
He caught her wrists and pressed his thumbs to her pulse. "I'm starting to think maybe you didn't exactly understand me."
"Why would you think that?"
"Because I got this funny little note from you that sounded like we were colleagues at a dinner party," he said patiently. "Obviously, you missed some of the, ah, undertones of the conversation." He stroked the inside of her wrist with his thumb. "I thought I'd better come and set things straight with you."
Abby pulled her hands free and t ur ned to face him. He should have backed up a step so she wouldn't have to stand so close to the counter, but he was enjoying the sensation of having her pressed against him in such tantalizing proximity. "I know you think I'm some kind of moron, but if I'm supposed to have figured this out, I haven't. I've lost plenty of sleep over it, though."
"I'm glad to hear I wasn't the only one."
Abby searched his gaze. "I'm kind of a plain- speech sort of person, you know. And if you're saying what I think you're saying, then maybe you've got the wrong girl." She blew an errant curl off her forehead.
No, he thought as he watched the curl spring back over her face, definitely the right woman. No question about it. He barely resisted the urge to topple her into his arms. He wasn't going to wait much longer to kiss this woman. "I don't think so," he assured her. "But I haven't quite got you figured out yet."
"And it's driving you crazy, isn't it?" She managed a slight laugh. "Good grief, Ethan, I'm really not that complicated."
"On the surface maybe. But there are layers. I'm very interested in layers."
He thought he saw her color rise. "I
"Quit?" Ethan asked.
Rachel nodded. "I always do the ingredients the night before. It saves time with the baking."
LuAnne swiped another cutting board full of chopped chocolate into a bowl. "What time are we starting tomorrow?"
"Not too early," Abby said. "Rachel and I have Carlton's graduation party in the morning."
Rachel groaned. "I told you I don't have time for that. How am I supposed to get all this done by Monday?"
"I'll help," Ethan volunteered. "It'll make it go faster."
Abby looked at him with surprise. "I had no idea you were so domestically inclined."
"You're about to learn several things about me, Abby." He winked at her. "I've got stuff I'm dying to show you."
A t 12:30 a . m ., Ethan and Abby were the only ones left standing. They'd finished preparing the ingredients a little after midnight. LuAnne had staggered to the guest room, while Rachel had curled up on the sofa and fallen asleep in front of the TV during a rerun of Iron Chef. Ethan had the advantage of West Coast time on his side—his internal clock said it was shortly after ten-thirty. Abby had dumped mixing bowls and utensils in the sink and was scrubbing them hard enough to wear down the stainless steel.
With a slight smile, Ethan eased up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. They tensed. She kept scrubbing, so he started rubbing the knotted muscles. "Tough week?" he asked.
She sighed. "You could say that."
"I was expecting you to call."
She dropped a large spoon into the sudsy water. Her head came up, and she met his gaze in the reflection of the kitchen window. "Why?"
He tipped his head to one side. "Why not?" He rubbed his h ands down her arms. "Are you an noyed with me?"
She shook her head. "I just want to know what you're doing here."
He wasn't sure he knew how to answer that. "My assistant told me I've been acting like a jerk. I gave it some thought, and realized there was some unsettled business between us."
"You said you were coming back Tuesday."
He studied her reflection, trying to decide if she was being sarcastic. "I said certain other things to you that night too. Things that warranted a little more attention."
"I don't think—"
He caught her wrists and pressed his thumbs to her pulse. "I'm starting to think maybe you didn't exactly understand me."
"Why would you think that?"
"Because I got this funny little note from you that sounded like we were colleagues at a dinner party," he said patiently. "Obviously, you missed some of the, ah, undertones of the conversation." He stroked the inside of her wrist with his thumb. "I thought I'd better come and set things straight with you."
Abby pulled her hands free and t ur ned to face him. He should have backed up a step so she wouldn't have to stand so close to the counter, but he was enjoying the sensation of having her pressed against him in such tantalizing proximity. "I know you think I'm some kind of moron, but if I'm supposed to have figured this out, I haven't. I've lost plenty of sleep over it, though."
"I'm glad to hear I wasn't the only one."
Abby searched his gaze. "I'm kind of a plain- speech sort of person, you know. And if you're saying what I think you're saying, then maybe you've got the wrong girl." She blew an errant curl off her forehead.
No, he thought as he watched the curl spring back over her face, definitely the right woman. No question about it. He barely resisted the urge to topple her into his arms. He wasn't going to wait much longer to kiss this woman. "I don't think so," he assured her. "But I haven't quite got you figured out yet."
"And it's driving you crazy, isn't it?" She managed a slight laugh. "Good grief, Ethan, I'm really not that complicated."
"On the surface maybe. But there are layers. I'm very interested in layers."
He thought he saw her color rise. "I
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