Home Sweet Love

by Ava Miles

  “You’re doing a great job,” she told him. “Now be brave and go find that paper.”

  He saluted her, something he was prone to do, likely a habit he’d picked up from his father, who was an engineer on a submarine in the Pacific.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He sprinted out the door before she could tell him not to call her that.

  Her phone buzzed, signaling a text. She turned it over and felt a shiver shoot down her spine. Chase!

  No pressure, but wanted to see if you’ve decided to come over here tonight. Didn’t want to be underprepared in the food department. I thought I’d smoke a beef tenderloin. Helga will help me get things ready if you can bring sides again.

  Her heart turned gooey at the sight of his text, but then she frowned. He wasn’t supposed to be texting unless he needed something for his recovery. Who cared? He was thinking about her. It was mutual. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him.

  Was she really going? She’d been ninety percent sure when she’d woken up this morning, but that little human resources voice inside her head had been broadcasting messages of wreck and ruin.

  Then she remembered how she’d urged Caroline to go to Rome.

  She had to go. She wanted to go. Not only did she want to see him, but she wanted to kiss him again too.

  She texted him back.

  Yes, I’ll be over tonight. Seven? You don’t have to cook. I’ll pick something up from Brasserie Dare on my way over. And we’ll have to talk about your texting. Not that it isn’t sweet, but you’re only supposed to text about your recovery.

  Her body felt like it was floating when her phone buzzed with his response.

  I’m within the texting rules. I’m still recovering…from that kiss last night. And I’m smoking the beef anyway. See you tonight.

  The day couldn’t go fast enough after that. Gary did indeed find the special paper for the invitations and then had them printed in no time. The program he’d used really did make them look like Evan had addressed them personally. The things she was learning. She would have to remember this whenever she ended up getting engaged. How much easier would it make addressing invitations?

  Not that she was thinking about getting engaged.

  She had a new job and a career she loved. There was no rush. Sure, her last few relationships had led nowhere, and Chase had already made it clear that there was a time limit on whatever this was, but it would still be a fun respite.

  When she left the office around five thirty after calling in a takeout order with a six forty-five pickup time, she headed home to get ready for her date. While she didn’t want to wear anything too fancy, she did want to feel sexy. For herself. If it worked for Chase, well, that would be the cherry on top. That meant taking a shower, splashing on a subtle perfume in a few unexpected places, creating fun, understated makeup, and dressing in comfortable clothes that flattered her.

  When she entered Brasserie Dare, Brian brought out her takeout order himself. “Hey, Moira! Are you sure you don’t need an entrée to go with these sides?”

  She kissed him on the cheek. “This is all I need.”

  “Who you hanging with tonight?” he asked.

  “Chase,” she said, trying to keep her cool. “I thought I’d keep him company. He’s smoking a tenderloin.”

  “Lucky you,” he said. “He must be bored out of his mind.”

  “He is,” she responded. “I’m saving him, really.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’ll bet. Wait, I forgot to add your halo to the bag.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said, laughing as she left.

  On the way to Chase’s place, she took a moment to think through her approach. Was she going to play it cool this evening? Or was she going to risk diving all in? All in, she decided. She wanted to enjoy every moment.

  When she knocked on his front door, he called out, “Enter.” The low command sent a pulse of heat through her.

  There was already a fire going in the massive hearth. He was sitting on the couch, looking over his shoulder at her. His gray eyes were intense, as if all polite trivialities between them were gone.

  She walked toward him, their gazes glued to each other. When she stood in front of him, she noted he had managed to tug on a bulky cream knit shirt, ripped at the shoulder to allow for his casted arm. It looked good on him. He had on loose brown cargo pants, one pant leg sliced in half to accommodate his cast.

  Clearly he’d gone to extra effort. The beard he’d been sporting had disappeared, and his clean-shaven jaw told her he’d been thinking about another kiss as much as she had.

  Why wait? she decided.

  She set the takeout bag on the coffee table, which was already set for dinner, and sat down next to him. He’d positioned himself on the couch intentionally, she imagined, since his good arm was free.

  “Hi,” she said simply, giving him a smile.

  “Hi,” he said back.

  Then she leaned in slowly, keeping her gaze on him. His mouth curved, and he extended his head in her direction. Their lips met. Some part of her gave a shiver of delight in response to the teasing passes he made with his mouth. There was a nip here and a tug there, to which she responded with a playful jab of her tongue.

  His good arm came around her, and she scooted closer until she was pressed to his side. He was warm, and he smelled delicious—like musk and smoke—and if he kept on kissing her like she was his version of a banana split, she was going to belt out a heartfelt moan in a moment.

  Instead, she leaned back and fought the urge to lick her lips.

  “I like a greeting like that,” he said in a deep, husky voice, one that raised the hairs on her arms. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

  She glanced down at herself. Her fitted navy tunic and black leggings were sexy but comfortable. It was the knee-high black boots that knocked the outfit out of the park. “Thank you. I was thinking you looked pretty good too when I walked in.”

  “It’s not what I would normally wear for a first date,” he said with a wry glance, “but perhaps the sizeable slit up my pant leg turns you on.”

  Taking her time to study his leg, she said, “The plaster ruins the line for me.”

  He chuckled. “I decided to try and look as presentable as possible, so the scooter was out. However, that means you’ll have to pour your wine and serve the food. The tenderloin should be ready. Hope you don’t mind bringing it in. It needs to rest in foil for about fifteen minutes.”

  Since he sounded a little vulnerable asking that of her, she leaned in and gave him another slow kiss. He was smiling easier when she pulled back.

  “You do look sexy, and I’m happy to arrange everything.”

  “While I’m confessing, I might as well mention I have this terrible urge to ask you for the receipt from Brasserie Dare so I can reimburse you. I would never have a woman pay on a date. It…galls the crap out of me.”

  Oh, he was so sweet. “I can see your dilemma, but while I appreciate the offer, how about we just pretend the first date fairies paid for things and let it go? It’s only a few sides.”

  “First date fairies,” he said, stroking her jaw. “I didn’t know you believed in fairies. I wouldn’t have guessed that about you.”

  Clearly, he was too serious for flirting about fairies. “You believed in the tooth fairy, right?” she asked, liking the way he pushed her hair behind her ear.

  “Until I found out who was really behind the scenes,” he said, shaking his head. “It ruined all fairy talk for me.”

  Her lips twitched. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  While she didn’t want to pull away from him, she forced herself to stand. “I’ll grab the meat.”

  Her first sight—and smell—of the smoked tenderloin made her mouth water. Coming inside with it, she stopped to look at Chase. “This smells incredible. You outdid yourself.”

  “It felt good to be productive. How was your day?”

  “Pretty good,” she sai
d, heading into the kitchen. “Let me wrap this up to rest.”

  While she was in there, she grabbed some serving dishes and utensils from the cabinets. Then she headed back into the main living area and unloaded the sides.

  “Gary and Evan continue to blow my mind with everything they can do with technology, although I don’t need to know all the details.” She didn’t think it would overtax Chase’s brain to tell him about printing the invitations, but since it was a sore spot between them, she kept her mouth shut.

  “That sounds familiar,” Chase said, laughing. “One time Evan had me fly to Paris to see the newest installment of something he was inventing. After this hour-long recitation—half of which I didn’t understand—he blew up all his test tubes in the demonstration, triggering the sprinkler system in the lab.”

  Hopefully Evan and Gary would keep any flammable experiments away from her.

  “It soaked my five-thousand-dollar Italian suit and shoes. Evan didn’t even notice he was soaking wet. He started cussing at what I’ll call his ‘inventing fairies,’ to use your earlier train of thought. I had to drag him out of the lab when the Paris Fire Brigade showed up.”

  “Gary wouldn’t cuss so much as he’d say, ‘Dude, did you see that blow up?’ or ‘I’m on fire. How cool is that?’”

  Chase had a good laugh at that. “I was a little skeptical when Evan told me he wanted to hire Gary at Artemis,” he said, “but it sounds like they’re two peas in a pod.”

  “I was as well, but he’s terrific. Truly. And Evan assured me it won’t impact the selection panel’s decision to accept him if he chooses to apply.” She still didn’t like how it looked to the outside world, but it was Evan’s call.

  “It won’t influence it,” Chase said in his executive voice. “That’s why Evan’s not the only one who’ll be deciding who’s accepted. But trust me when I tell you that Evan’s hardly a pushover when it comes to hiring. The head of Quid-Atch’s R&D department went through eight rounds of interviews with him.”

  “Rajan sounds like a great guy. But that’s a crazy amount of interviews.”

  “Of course, when I pointed this out to Evan, he said they were just chatting.” Chase laughed. “I told him he’d better close the deal or Rajan would go elsewhere.”

  Moira finished arranging the sides on the serving plates. “I’m going to carve the tenderloin and bring it out.”

  “Great,” he said. “I hope you like it. I coated it with honey, black pepper, and ground lavender—Helga’s idea—and smoked it with mesquite.”

  “That sounds…ridiculous and delicious. So you figured out a way to use the lavender, after all.”

  “Helga is a great cook. Turns out she’s a nice woman…and that her name’s not Helga.” He gave her an arch look. “Something you’d know since she took care of Andy’s first wife.”

  Oh shit, was that out of the bag? “It was Evan’s idea,” she said, feeling like a tattle-tale kid even as she said it.

  “So I was told,” he said. “I’d appreciate not being treated like an imbecile or an ogre. I told Evan the same when he called me earlier on his way home from Denver.”

  “Did you know he was meeting with J.T. Merriam today?” she said in a not-so-subtle attempt to change the subject. “I only know because J.T. popped in to see my sister, Caroline. Uncle Arthur put them in touch.”

  “Evan is hoping to buy some Merriam land here in Dare Valley for him and Margie.”

  “Do you know J.T.? I mean…I don’t know him as an adult. He and his family stopped coming to Dare Valley when he was pretty young.”

  “J.T. is a savvy businessman with the heart of a lion,” Chase mused. “He believes in his people, and from what I can tell, they believe in him. Of course, it’s not easy working in Africa and the Middle East, but he’s respected for his vision and leadership.”

  Moira was oddly relieved to hear his take on the man. If Caroline was interested in J.T., she wanted current references. “Do you like him?”

  “Yes,” Chase replied. “I don’t know him well, but we’ve run across each other at political fundraisers and other corporate events.”

  “I appreciate your insights,” she said, turning to finish arranging the sides on his plate and her own. “We should eat. We don’t want to have to nuke your tenderloin.”

  “That would be a travesty.”

  She headed back into the kitchen and poured them drinks—a glass of wine for her and water for him—and delivered them before returning to carve the meat.

  “Didn’t you have a medical eval today?” she asked when she came back to the coffee table with the platter of tenderloin.

  “I wasn’t looking forward to talking about my injuries on our first date.” His jaw locked. “But since you asked… Your brother is still concerned about the concussion. He thinks I need two more weeks to rest my brain. It was deeply disappointing.”

  Pausing in the act of transferring slices of tenderloin to their plates, she set the utensils aside and turned to face him, putting her hand on his chest. “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too.”

  She brought her plate onto her lap and settled back against the couch. Chase shifted forward until he was on the edge of the cushion, extending his casted leg out sideways to avoid the coffee table. He picked up his fork and started awkwardly cutting his meat one-handed. Biting her lip, she tried to decide if she should offer to help. That would gall him, she knew, so she decided to chill. While it was a slow process, he managed to get the job done. She was relieved—for both of them.

  “This is really good,” Chase said after taking a bite. “The combination actually works. The black pepper rounds out the honey and lavender.”

  “What you said.” Moira plopped another piece of meat in her mouth. “Delicious.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t bring over a soufflé,” Chase said. “Evan served it once as an entrée, thinking it was a pretty good joke because he’d promised me steak. He has a weird sense of humor.”

  “You don’t strike me as a soufflé kind of guy,” she said, spearing a thin green haricot vert dotted with slivered almonds and crème fraiche.

  “I like dessert soufflés like anyone,” Chase said, picking up a forkful of gratin covered in roasted cheese and cream. “But not when I was hoping for steak.”

  She laughed. “You and Evan seem to joke with each other a lot.”

  “Evan does it more with me than I do with him,” he said, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. “He thinks it makes me less uptight.”

  Was he usually uptight? Yes, he was passionate about his work, pretty much exclusively so, but he was also darn good at it.

  “Tell me about your family,” he said, reaching for a napkin and wiping his mouth. “I haven’t met everyone, obviously, but your brother is growing on me.”

  Andy had a funny way of winning people over—even frustrated patients. “We’re pretty wacky. Well, not all the time, I guess. We’re all serious about our professions, but we like to tease each other too. Matt and Natalie have this ongoing bumper sticker war, for example. Natalie won the latest round. She found one with the cutest little yellow fuzzy goslings that says ‘I Heart Baby Goslings.’ Matt is convinced she wants to take his Man Card away. I can’t wait to see how he retaliates.”

  “Baby goslings, huh? I can see his concern.”

  “What about you?” she asked, finally picking up her wine. “Do you have siblings?”

  “Only one,” he said. “A younger brother named Boone. We’re not close.”

  There was a whole heap of warnings in that recitation. She could all but feel him shore up his walls. Interesting. “And your parents?”

  “My dad died when I was twelve,” he said, looking off into the fire. “My mom lives in Cheyenne now.”

  Again, his words were buttressed by a million warnings. She’d wait to ask more—if they got to that point. Right now they needed a complete change of subject. “If we were in D.C. having a first date, what would we be doing?�
�

  His head turned, and their eyes met. Even in the firelight, she could see the frown on his face. Whatever the story was with his family, it wasn’t a happy one.

  “I’d take you out to a place downtown, maybe Capitol Grille. If it was a nice night, we could take a walk. I might even show you my favorite monument.”

  She was relieved to see his tormented look slip away. Yes, this was a safe topic. “What’s your favorite monument?”

  “Guess,” he said, spearing a green bean and popping it in his mouth.

  “That’s not a fair question,” she said dryly. “I’ve only been to D.C. once, as one of the dreaded family trips my dad used to insist on to further our education of America. I was eight, I think. All I remember is walking around until my legs ached and feeling like the heat was pressing down on me. Oh, and the ice cream cone I had in front of the Washington Monument.”

  “You know the monuments,” he said, nudging her with his good arm. “Give it a try.”

  What was this? A quiz? Well, it beat the family tree talk. “The Washington Monument.”

  “Nope.”

  She thought back to all the movies she’d seen that were set in D.C. Where did people go? “The Lincoln Memorial. That’s pretty impressive, right?”

  “It’s my second favorite,” he said, reaching for his water glass. “Try again.”

  Were they going to sit here all night while she guessed? “The Jefferson Memorial.”

  He shook his head again, slowly. “While the cherry blossoms are quite lovely, it’s too predictable.”

  Too predictable, huh? “You’re not going to tell me it’s the Vietnam Memorial, are you?” She remembered crying softly after their tour guide told them all the names etched on the wall were people who had died in the war. At that time, the list had seemed endless.

  “Impressive and intense, but not my favorite.”

  She gave him a look. “Wanna put a girl out of her misery on a first date?”

  He must have heard the rancor in her voice because he set his plate aside. “I’m not being very romantic, am I? Well…would you mind doing me a favor? Could you fetch me the box on the bed in the first bedroom on the right?”