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He did.
‘And?’ she prompted.
‘It’s perfect.’
‘For you, maybe.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘I prefer my steak properly cooked—not underdone, the way you seem to like it.’
‘This is not underdone. It’s how steak should be cooked.’
‘And the sauce?’
He frowned. ‘You’ve cooked it a little too long and it’s started to separate.’
Truly? She stared at it.
‘It’s a pity about the tarragon vinegar, and you used too much onion to flavour the reduction, but only an experienced foodie would know.’
He frowned at her steak again, but she ignored the silent censure. ‘Relax, Mac.’ She reached for the beans. ‘I’m actually pretty chuffed with my efforts—and that’s the point, isn’t it?’
He blinked.
‘I mean the people who try out your recipes—they’re going to adjust them to their own tastes, right? Like I did with my steak?’
‘I guess.’
‘But as long as they feel they’ve created a nice meal they’re going to be happy, aren’t they? Mission accomplished.’
He straightened as if she’d zapped him. ‘You’re right. Nobody’s going to be assessing their creations with a mark out of ten.’
‘Uh, no.’
She tried not to focus on the shape of his lips, or the scent of coconut that came from his still-damp hair. Hair that was a touch too long. Hair that had felt glorious when she’d run her fingers through it and—
She reached for her glass of water and drained it.
‘I think I’ve been getting too hooked up on every detail.’
He really did need to let up a bit.
‘But as long as my targeted audience is satisfied then that’s the best I can hope for.’
Yup.
He suddenly grinned. Her heart skidded, and then settled to pound too hard too fast. She took back her earlier wish that he’d smile. She wished he wouldn’t. Why couldn’t her heart just behave normally around him?
‘So, have you come any closer to discovering your new career path today?’
This had become a habit—at dinnertime he’d throw suggestions at her about a new vocation.
‘Go on—thrill me,’ she said. Not literally.
‘Chef?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘I expect I’d need to like cooking for that.’
‘You don’t like to cook?’
‘I never became interested in it until I started watching your show. Russ made all of us watch it.’ She blew out a breath. ‘But I’m afraid you’re not going to make a convert of me. It’s all far too fiddly for my liking.’
‘Gardener, then?’
‘It’s a pleasant enough way to while away an hour or two, but a whole day of it? A whole week of it? Month after month? No, thanks.’
Bandit pattered into the dining room. ‘Then maybe you’d like a stint as a dog breeder?’ Mac’s grin suddenly widened. ‘It could be the perfect fit. I discovered today that Bandit is, in fact, Bandita.’
‘What?’
‘He is a she. Bandit is a girl dog.’
Her jaw dropped. ‘You’re joking?’
‘I take it you didn’t check before you agreed to adopt him...uh...her?’
She stared at the dog. ‘It never occurred to me to check. I mean he’s...she’s...fluffy, and has lots of fur, and it’s not like it’s...um...obvious. I just—’
She folded her arms and glared. ‘That nice old man told me Bandit was a boy.’
‘I suspect “that nice old man” has taken you for a ride.’
‘Why, though? What’s the big deal if Bandit is a boy or a girl? It certainly makes no difference to me, and—’
She broke off at his laughter. He looked so different when he laughed.
She moistened her lips. ‘What?’
‘Bandit is a girl dog who I suspect is going to be a mother in the not too distant future.’
‘Noooo...’
‘Yes.’
‘So that nice old man was just trying to fob Bandit off onto some poor sucker?’
‘Bingo.’
And she was the sucker.
She stared at Bandit. She stared at Mac. ‘We’re going to have puppies?’
‘Looks that way.’
Puppies? She grinned. She ate some more steak. ‘Well, that’ll be fun.’ In the next instant she stiffened. ‘What else did that rotten old man lie about? Is she microchipped? Has she had her vaccinations?’ She set her knife and fork down. ‘Well, that’s that, then.’
Mac frowned. ‘That’s what?’
‘It means I’ll have to take her to the vet’s tomorrow for a thorough check-up.’
