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“Blood sausage?” Chase studied his untouched bowl.
“Come on. You’re the wealthy one. Don’t tell me you’re closed-minded.”
“When it comes to food I stick with the normal meals.”
“What do you consider normal food?”
“Hamburgers, steak, pizza, chicken—”
“That’s unacceptable.” I stabbed another piece, put it on my spoon, and offered my portion to him. “Try it, please.”
“You’re serious?”
“Of course. Have I been wrong yet?”
“I doubt blood sausage will be a winner.”
I positioned my spoon half an inch from his mouth. “I’ve been dealing with your ridiculous come-on-too-strong flirting. Open your mouth and take it.”
“You’re definitely more than I’d expected,” he murmured and opened his mouth.
I fed him and couldn’t even deny the feeling that burst in my stomach. It was weird, as if I’d conquered someone, like I’d won a little battle or taken control.
Don’t be pathetic, Jasmine.
I shook the emotion away. “So? What do you think?”
He bobbed his head and continued to munch. “Damned good.”
“Gabe is an amazing chef. He never fails.” I returned to eating my own food.
“He’s cooked meals for you before?” Chase gripped his spoon so hard the skin on his knuckles turned a lighter shade.
What’s the big deal?
“Sometimes Gabe comes to my apartment and cooks for Vivian and me. He’s pretty busy here and works six days a week, but he still tries to visit us and cook at least twice a month.”
“Hmmm.” He tapped his finger against the spoon a few times. “Does he spend time with Vivian when he’s . . . visiting, or is he only around you?”
“I know what you’re insinuating. It’s not like that. It’s really a lot of fun when he drops by.”
“I bet,” he mumbled.
“He tells me to buy a secret ingredient. When he comes over I present it to him and he cooks me something fabulous, just like that food game show Iron Chef.”
Chase turned toward the kitchen and mumbled something under his breath.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing.” But his face said he was pissed.
Or maybe I’m simply imagining that.
We ate in peace for a while. The whole time I waited on the edge of impatience for him to tell me what he had to say.
Finally, when I couldn’t take anymore, I released a frustrated sigh. “So you saw me at the Garden Party when I was mocking your company’s horrible food. And?”
He wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin.
