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“Yes,” he laughed shakily. “Of course I do. But we can’t force people to live as we want them to. You wish you hadn’t married William, and yet you wouldn’t have Ellie otherwise.”
Her smile was beaming, as she turned back to the gnocchi. “That’s what I tell myself, every morning. Ellie’s a gift. No matter what came before her, she’s worth it.”
She lifted the pasta from the water with a slotted spoon, adding it into the deep saucepan. “Now, I’ve seen for myself your handiwork with a knife. How do you think you’ll go with a cheese grater?”
“Time will tell,” he prophesied with an air of mystery, pushing the sleeves of his business shirt up to physically demonstrate his willingness. She fished a block of reggiano from the fridge and handed it to him, along with the fine grater.
“Don’t lose your fingers,” she warned.
Ellie pointed her finger towards the table and said, “Wa! Wa! Wa! More me wa!”
“You want some water, baby?” Chloe handed the Dora water bottle to Ellie and then looked thoughtfully at her guest. “You said your dad’s a musician. Do you play an instrument? Or sing?”
His dark eyes lifted to hers briefly, then returned to the chore of grating cheese.
“In the same way you learned to cook by osmosis, yes, I learned to play.”
“Guitar?”
“And piano.”
Her pulse was liquid lava in her veins. “I’d love to hear you sometime,” she spoke quietly.
It was not an unusual request, given their conversation. But the mood in the kitchen had shifted. They’d swapped confidences, and they’d learned more about one another, and the path they’d travelled had gone too far to deny its existence. There was an attraction between them. More than just physical. And Chloe wasn’t sure she could fork away from it now.
“I’d love to play for you sometime,” he responded, his voice gravelly.
Their eyes were linked, hers seeking his and his probing hers. With no speech and no contact, Chloe felt her whole body tingle in anticipation.
“Sorry I’m late!” Georgia’s voice, calling from the front door, broke through the atmosphere, startling Chloe. She shook her head as if to clear the haze of romance that was making everything foggy.
“You’re right on time,” Chloe retorted, smoothing her hands down her apron as though the signs of how she’d been feeling might be visible on the Laura Ashley print.
Georgia appeared at the kitchen door and stopped in her tracks, when her eyes landed on Hendrix. “Ah! Hendrix Forrester. You must be the most dedicated lawyer in the country,” she said, her voice lightly teasing. “To be working on a Saturday.”
Chloe shot her friend a wa
rning look. “Hendrix has been helping me cook.”
His laugh was seductively husky. “More like trying to stay out of the way,” he corrected.
Georgia looked from one to the other, wondering if they knew how obvious it was that they were both totally hooked. She scooped Ellie out of the high chair with the confidence of someone who saw her every day. Ellie went to Georgia willingly, her chubby arms wrapping around Georgia’s neck.
“We’ll set the table,” Georgia said, taking the little girl into the living area.
Hendrix’s dark eyes searched Chloe’s face. She was busy scooping gnocchi into bowls. “I think she’s onto us,” he said finally, putting the cheese down so that he could press a finger beneath her chin and lift her face to his.
“Onto us?” She asked unevenly.
“Mmm.” His thumb padded across her lower lip, and his eyes followed its progress, wishing, desperately, that it were his mouth instead.
Her blue eyes were enormous pools of uncertainty. “Hendrix.” His name on her lips was a whisper.
“I prefer how you said it the other night,” he murmured, lifting his other hand and cupping her cheek.
“And how was that?”
His smile was sensual. “As though you were drowning and I was the only man who could rescue you.”
