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“I figured you’d be busy or something. I was going to bring… You know what? Never mind. Please, come in.” If this man showed up to eat dinner, she wasn’t going to send him away. She’d just have to improvise.
“I didn’t want to come empty-handed. I hope you like red wine,” he said, handing her the large bottle.
“I love red wine.” She looked down at the seemingly expensive bottle—Gaja. She made a mental note to look up the name later. “I’ve never heard of this brand before.”
“It’s really good. One of my favorites,” London informed her, following her into the kitchen. “I must say, I’m impressed by your kitchen. It looks like it gets a lot of use.”
Setting the bottle on the counter, she looked up at him and grinned. “You don’t cook?”
“When I have to, I can throw something together. Growing up, my mother tried to teach me, but it was like my brain processed nothing.” He leaned against the counter. “But I can place an order for delivery like no one you’ve ever seen before.”
She chuckled. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I offered to cook.”
“I’ll be forever in your debt.” Unbuttoning his sleeves, he folded them up, presenting his forearms. “What do you want me to do?”
Alana swallowed at the sprinkling of light hair running along his tan skin that led to a tattoo peeking out from the fabric. There was something so sexy about a man’s tattoos that did it for her.
Down, girl.
“If you want, you can set the table,” she replied, finding her voice.
Looked like they were having dinner at her place.
She gave him instructions on where everything was while she gathered the food and carried it into the dining room.
Once she’d placed the salad and bread on the table, she went back for the lasagna.
Alana had to admit that finishing off dinner and working with London to get the table set just felt… right.
Something so simple had her core clenching.
She needed to get laid.
That was it.
The little things, like a man standing in her kitchen, shouldn’t be turning her on.
“Where’s your wine opener?” he asked, searching her utensil drawer. Her gaze landed on the wine bottle and she giggled. She normally bought the cheap stuff at the local grocery store that cost no more than six bucks, and it certainly didn’t have a cork.
“I know I have one somewhere around here…” She turned around in a circle. “A-ha!”
Rushing to the fridge, she snatched it off the door and did a celebratory dance.
“Magnetic? Cool way not to lose it.”
Nervous flutters filled her stomach as they walked back into the dining room. People had always told her what a great cook she was, so she was curious to see what London thought.
Piling up their plates and filling their glasses, she took a seat across from him.
“As soon I smelled this from my apartment, I couldn’t wait to get over here.”
“So what do you do?” she asked as they started in on their salads.
“I own Primetime Sports Management—a sports agency.”
“Oh, wow. That sounds amazing. Do you work with professional athletes?”
She knew little about that world, but from what she saw on television and in movies, London’s line of work was quite lucrative.
