Staring at the array of containers on the counter, I go down the checklist one more time. Oysters for the appetizer, Strawberry Spinach salad with Honey Balsamic Vinaigrette, Chicken Cordon bleu with Herbed Potato Fans, and the crowning touch, Chocolate Torte with pistachio and Maca. I researched foods used as aphrodisiacs and added them to every course at least once.
One of them has to work, right?
After I put all the carefully wrapped insulated containers in a box, I add his favorite bottle of wine. I heft the box and carry out the front of the bakery and place it on a table while I set the alarm and lock the door.
I am huffing and puffing by the time I reach my car and place the box on the back seat. Leaning against my driver’s door I catch my breath and slide onto the seat and crank the air conditioning to cool me off.
My blue sundress is sleeveless at least so I won’t have perspiration stains to worry about. I pull out onto the street and then slap off the air conditioning. I need to keep the food warm for my dinner with Mitch. It’s not like he has an oven to heat anything in.
His house is less than ten minutes from the bakery so everything should be perfect.
If we eat quickly.
What if he wants to show me the work done on the house first? The oysters can’t last that long.
Breathe.
I practice the breathing technique Olivia taught me and it helps.
Driving up to his house, I peek in my rearview mirror to check my hair and makeup are still in place. It takes a few glances and a quick swerve back onto the driveway to see that my hair is still tamed into a clip at the back of my neck and my sedate but sexy eye makeup is not smudged.
Mitch opens the front door as I put the car in park. He jogs down and kisses me on the cheek.
“You made it. I was about to call.”
“Getting everything ready took a little longer than I anticipated.” Okay, the black eyeliner and smudging technique took longer than I planned.
He grabs the box.
“Something sure smells amazing.”
Smiling, I follow him up the path to the house. “I hope you are hungry because the appetizer has a time limit.”
“Starving. I thought we could eat outside on the back patio. I bought a table and chairs the other day. We should be able to catch the sunset.”
“That sounds lovely.” I hadn’t thought of where we would eat. I’m glad he is prepared. It would have been awkward standing at the kitchen counter eating my romantic dinner, if there even is still a kitchen counter.
I follow him through the house peeking at everything as we walk by. Fresh sheetrock covers the walls in most of the rooms. He’s made a lot of progress.
A bronze colored metal table with a glass top and matching chairs is centered on the patio. A white candle flickers in a hurricane lamp. Dishes and utensils sit on green placemats. A hunter green umbrella covers it all.
“I picked up a set of dishes and glasses the other day too. I got tired of eating on disposable plates with plastic utensils.”
Wincing over the plastic plates and utensils in a bag at the bottom of the box, I hurry over and start unpacking the box he sets down on one of the chairs.
“It looks beautiful.” Much more romantic than I had planned.
“What can I do?”
“Sit and enjoy.”
Mitch takes a seat in front of one of the place settings. He set them up with one on the end and one next to it facing the lake. He takes the seat on the end and I set out the platter of oysters in front of him.
“Oysters, wow, they look great.”
“They’re the ones on a time limit, so please try one.”
Scooting my chair in, I watch him take a bite.
His eyes widen. Oh no, am I too late? I should have prepared something that transported easier, not something which needed to be served immediately. Damn it, I’ve ruined the dinner with the first course.
“This is delicious. You didn’t tell me you could cook too.”
Relaxing into the cushion on the chair, I smile and reach for an oyster myself.
“I’m so glad. Of course, I can cook. I just don’t get to do it all that often living with my parents.”
Trying not to slurp, I bite into the oyster and am relieved. It tastes pretty good.
“That reminds me, my lawyer sent over the papers to transfer ownership of the building over to you. You and your lawyer can look them over and tell me if anything needs to be changed.”
“Thank you. I can’t tell you what it means to me that you’re selling me the building.”
“If I’d known you were planning to buy it, I never would have made an offer on it.”
I smile and reach over to squeeze his hand.
He keeps my hand in his.
I wish I could bottle this moment. Etch it into my memory along with the love bubbling up inside me. I want this to work so badly. He has to see me as more than a friend, doesn’t he?
“I’m dying to see what else you have hidden in that box.”
“Oh!”
I let go of his hand and reach into the box, taking out the salad. The wine bottle is still there. I bite my lip and lift it out along with a wine opener and the wine glasses I tucked in the box.
“I forgot about the wine.”
Mitch takes the bottle and the opener and reads the label. “One of my favorites.”
“I made a Strawberry Salad with Honey Vinaigrette.” While he fills our glasses with the wine, I set out the salads and pour the dressing over each.
When the sweet and tangy taste fills my mouth, I sigh inwardly. I sampled it at the bakery but worry still coursed through me.
His salad is half gone before I’ve taken three bites of mine.
He glances at me over his fork. “It’s fantastic.”
Smiling, I sip at the wine, and look over the lawn down to the lake.
“What do you plan to do with the grounds?”
Scanning the area, he takes another bite of his salad. “I want to repair the pathways and the formal gardens. There’s even what’s left of a small hedge maze on the other side of the house.”
“Really? I’d love to see it.”
“We can take a walk after dinner. This must have been the spot for grand entertaining at one time. It will take a lot of time and effort, but I want to recreate as much of the grounds as I can.”
“I used to fantasize about ladies with parasols and long dresses waltzing along the garden paths on the arms of gentlemen dressed in suits with a harp playing in the background. They would dance on the patio with their skirts twirling around their ankles.”
Mitch is smiling and my cheeks heat.
“I’ve imagined it similarly.”
“Really?”
He nods and leans back in his chair. “The more I uncovered of the gardens and pathways, the more I thought about the parties they must have had. I want to put in a boathouse too, but farther along the cove, so it doesn’t block the view of the lake.”
“I can’t wait to see it when you’re finished.”
“I plan to hire a landscape designer. You could help recreate your vision, tell him what you see.”
“Oh, I know nothing about plants.”
“Neither do I, but I know whether or not I like something when I see it. That’s all I’m suggesting.”
“I’d like to help.” A little devil sitting on my shoulder tests my new theory on jealousy. “You should hire Bobby.”
His eyes narrow and he takes a long drink of wine. “I’ll think about it.” Mitch clasps the utensils in his fists and taps the bottoms of his knife and fork on the table. “What’s next?”
Laughing, I pull out the main course. “Chicken Cordon bleu with potatoes.”
“How did you know that it’s one of my favorites?”
“Is it really?”
He nods and cuts into the chicken and takes a bite.
I pause cutting into mine when he groans. A tingle in my core radiates out at the sound.
“You should add a restaurant on to the bakery. You’re an incredible cook.”
Pleasure infuses me, and I grin.
Three courses down and all a hit. All that’s left is dessert and I’m sure that will be a slam dunk. What can go wrong with chocolate? I am confident when it comes to baking.
What if he’s allergic to nuts?
Oh God!
He would have told me, wouldn’t he?
“Mitch, you’re not allergic to nuts, are you? I mean I should have asked beforehand, but it didn’t occur to me until now.”
He pauses with the fork halfway to his mouth. “Are there nuts in this?” His cheeks balloon, and his eyes widen.
My mouth drops open and I shove the chair back leaping to my feet. “Oh my God! Are you having a reaction?”
Mitch laughs and grabs my hand. “Relax, I’m joking. I have no allergies.”
Slumping back into the chair, I huff out a breath. “Not funny, you scared me.”
“I’m sorry, but you looked so worried. I couldn’t help it.”
“I should withhold your dessert for that.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“You sure about that?”
He grins and winks at me. “You’re too sweet to torture me that way.”
Am I too sweet?
Does he prefer women who aren’t sweet? His ex-girlfriend was rumored to be difficult to work with. I don’t know if it was gossip or truth. Regardless, the women he’s dated are exciting and flashy, and let’s not forget gorgeous.
The most thrilling thing I’ve ever done? Besides try to seduce Mitch and fail miserably? I can’t think of a single thing.
Maybe I should take up skydiving.
My fear of heights might get in the way.
Then there’s the whole opening a parachute on time or plummeting to your death aspect.
Nope, I can’t jump out of an airplane, even for Mitch.
If he were dying and it was the only way to save him, then I would do it, but not just so I could appear more electrifying.
Besides, the sheer terror I’m sure I would experience and the probable projectile vomiting upon landing would negate any points for exciting behavior I might get.
“You’re quiet. You’re not plotting to keep whatever dessert you made from me, are you? I promise no more bad jokes.”
Smiling, I shake my head. “No, you can have dessert.”
Standing, he holds out a hand. “I have an idea.”
“Um, okay, do you mind sharing what this idea is?” I place my hand in his and he tugs so I stand.
Mitch takes out his phone and plays music.
“Your vision of dancing inspired me.”
He places his phone on the table and puts my other hand on his shoulder. Classical music flows from the phone full of strings and a soft melody.
“Mitch, I don’t dance.”
“Why not?” His hand rests on my waist and I desperately wish I was a woman who could step into his arms and waltz along the patio.
“Because I tried it when I was a kid. I took ballet lessons. I was so awful my mother made me quit.”
He frowns and pulls me closer.
“Everyone can dance. We’re not performing calculated steps. Move with me and listen to the music.”
Biting my lip, I stare at our feet facing each other.
Mitch puts a hand underneath my chin and lifts. “Don’t worry about your feet.”
“Ha, you say that, but wait until I stomp on your toes or trip you.”
Putting his hand behind my back, he tugs me closer and kisses me.
His lips whisper across mine.
His hand presses against my back and the other grasps my hand applying pressure there as well.
I move against him.
He steps and sways and I follow his movements as his lips trail across my cheek to my ear.
“See, anyone can dance. You just need to relax and feel the music.”
My eyes flutter open and I stare over his shoulder.
Right, dancing.
My lips twitch because this is nice. I am dancing with Mitch, even though I would rather he continues the kissing.
He leads me across the patio in his arms.
Leaning my head against his shoulder, I close my eyes and breathe deep. His scent entwines with the lightest touch of gardenias from the lit candle. The warmth of his hand on my back seeps through my clothes and skin.
A crash echoes from the house.
We stumble apart.
“Wait here.”
Mitch strides into the house and I shut off the music then pace the length of the patio. Should I follow him inside? He said to wait here, but what if he gets hurt? What if part of the old house collapsed? The renovations could have jarred something.
I step towards the door when a shuffle behind me causes me to swing around.
“Are you the housekeeper?”
A man in jeans and a ratty T-shirt stands on the edge of the patio with a camera in his hand.
“What?”
“This is Mitch Atwater’s place isn’t it? I heard in town he’s been spotted with a blonde bombshell. I’ll pay you if you give me any useful leads.”
He’s a reporter or the lesser version, anyway, paparazzi. The blonde bombshell must be my sister.
“This is private property. I’m calling the police.” I stride over to the table and snatch my phone out of my purse.
“Chill out lady. I only want a shot of Mitch and his new ladylove. His ex, Margeaux, is posting all over social media that they’re back together again and she’s planning a wedding. Know anything about that? She been here?”
I freeze for a second.
Mitch would have told me, wouldn’t he?
Was that the talk he wanted to have?
My stomach drops and tears fill my eyes.
I blink them back and grit my teeth. Getting rid of this trespasser is the priority.
I pretend to dial, hoping I’m not making a mistake. Should I call the police, or would Mitch want it kept quiet?
“Yes, I’d like to report a trespasser. This man is on my property and won’t leave. Average height, brown hair, jeans.”
The man turns and jogs around the side of the house.
I lower my phone and run for the house.
Locking the door behind me, I sprint down the hallway. Someone is coming down the stairs, and I pray it’s Mitch.
He spots me when I reach the foyer and jogs down the remaining steps, grabbing me by the shoulders.
“What is it?”
“There was a man on the patio. He wanted confirmation this was your house.”
“Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
“No, I made believe I was calling the police reporting a trespasser and he took off.”
“Damn it, I knew the information would get out eventually, but I thought I would have more time. I need to get the security system installed sooner than I had scheduled.” He hugs me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, I wasn’t sure if you would want me to actually call the police or not.”
“If a stranger comes near you again, you call the police. Why didn’t you call for me?”
“I didn’t want him to know he was right, and you lived here.”
Mitch’s sigh ruffles my hair. “Promise me you won’t take any more chances. Most of these guys are harmless, but you never know what kind of crazy might appear. You wouldn’t believe the stalkers Margeaux has had to deal with.”
Margeaux. Was that guy telling the truth?
“He said she’s saying you two are back together.”
“What?”
“That guy. He said Margeaux is posting that you and she are a couple again and getting married.”
“Those guys will say anything to get a reaction so they can take a picture and sell it. You can’t listen to their crap.”
I force a smile to my lips, but tension still rides my shoulders.
“You should get that security system installed right away.”
“I will.” He releases me and steps away. “I’m sorry he ruined our dance. I don’t think we should continue our dinner on the patio.”
“What was the crash? Did he try to break into the house?”
“Probably. There’s scaffolding on the side of the house. It looks like he must have knocked part of it down. I walked through the rest of the house to check, but the scaffolding is the only explanation I found.”
Rubbing my shoulders, I look around the foyer. “Are all the windows and doors locked? I locked the French doors when I came in.”
“Yes. Why don’t you go up to the master bedroom and I’ll grab the stuff from the patio? We can still have our dessert and enjoy the sunset. There’s no table or anything up there, but it shouldn’t be too awkward holding the plates.”
“Are you sure you should go out on the patio? What if he’s still lurking around?”
“I’ll be careful and quick. He’s probably long gone.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No, I want you to go upstairs just in case.”
“I should be there to help if he’s still here.”
“You can watch from the balcony and call the police if you spot him, okay?”
It is a better vantage point. I could see if he is anywhere around the house, or at least the back.
“Okay.”
“Thank you.”
Mitch disappears down the hallway and I run up the stairs to keep lookout for him.
I stride the length of the balcony and back while he grabs everything off the table and carries it inside. The man is out of sight or gone.
Could he be somewhere in the bushes snapping pictures?
Mitch’s soft tread across the floorboards prompts me to turn away from scanning the tree line.
He’s holding two plates with the chocolate torte on each.
I step into the room and shut the door. “We should eat inside in case he’s still out there somewhere.”
Mitch hands me a plate. “It’s part of my life. He’ll get his picture eventually, but if it scares you, we can stay inside.”
“I’m not scared. I just didn’t think you wanted him to get a photo.”
He shrugs. “Like I said, he will eventually, or someone else will. That doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate the trespassing. It also doesn’t mean I’m going to hide inside all the time.”
“Well then, let’s go out on the balcony and watch the sunset.”
Mitch smiles and opens the door.
The colors aren’t as vivid tonight, but the peach and grays are still beautiful. A man in a fishing boat casts his line outside the cove. He’s not much more than a dark outline in front of the setting sun.
“What is in this? There’s a flavor I can’t identify. It’s so good.”
Smiling, I take a bite of my piece. “I can’t divulge my recipes.” I don’t taste a difference but maybe the aphrodisiac is working.
That photographer didn’t ruin the entire night. I refuse to let him. I’m considering this date a success.
Even if his words about Margeaux are stuck in my head. A quick internet search when I get home should get rid of that worry.