“The kitchen is yours if you want to work on your cookbook. I know you said you were going to use the commercial kitchen at Cuisinette, but you’re welcome to use anything I have. Do you like it?”
“Like it?” She held her hand to her chest as she scanned the room. “I love it. It’s my dream kitchen.” She opened her mouth, but nothing came out, and she closed it again, glancing around and blinking rapidly.
Mike folded his arms and nodded.
“You have an 84-inch-tall column, side-by-side stainless steel refrigerator and freezer. That’s a seven-burner double oven convection dual fuel range and a wall-mounted range hood.” A smile fixed itself on her face. “There’s a wine reserve, for heaven’s sake.”
Her brows knitted together in confusion as if she could not possibly reconcile Mike having top-of-the-line appliances.
“I don’t get it.” Zora bit her lip and slowly stepped onto the tile. She shook her head slightly. “You don’t know anything about food except how to eat as much of it as possible in one sitting. So, tell me why you have this dreamy commercial kitchen?”
Amusement bubbled in his throat and he bit back a smile. He ironed out his expression, then squinted in mock seriousness as he propped himself up on the wood and steel swivel barstool. He was trying to figure out an answer he thought she would accept.
“It came with the house.” He shrugged.
They weren’t square yet, but it was the one answer that would set off her fuse, and right now he kind of wanted a little revenge. She looked dazed and wounded, like life was horribly unfair and she might fall out in a tantrum. Her luscious pink bottom lip jutted into an alarmingly sexy pout that made him want to bite it, then suck it. Hard.
He sighed.
“But you don’t even cook,” she whined. “I’ll bet your refrigerator literally has a pickle jar—sans pickles—an ancient Chinese food carton, and two ketchup packets. This is just…cruel.”
What was cruel was their forced proximity.
How was Mike not supposed to want her when she was adorable, funny, and sexy as hell?
That wasn’t fair.
She opened the fridge and confirmed her suspicions. “Yep. See, I knew it.”
This time, he allowed himself to laugh. Mike watched a few seconds longer as she sighed and ran her hands seductively over the range.
“Hello, handsome. I’m here now. I’m going to get your fire burning, and you, you sexy, neglected thing…”
Mike tried not to be turned on at the sight of Zora groping the refrigerator. His cock hardened in his slacks, but he reluctantly ignored it and chose to focus on the one thing that could sober him quickly.
“So…where’s this ‘date’ picking you up?” Mike asked without looking at her. He fidgeted with his hands. The thought of her kissing another man the way they’d kissed today tore at his insides.
He couldn’t sit back and watch. He needed to do something.
“Oh, uh…right. I didn’t want to have him come here, so I gave him the address to the restaurant since we were already set to do inventory.” She shot him a wincing, pleading look, which Mike guessed to mean don’t be mad at me. “I told him I’d meet him there at eight o’clock, so we have plenty of time. Maybe we could leave in an hour?”
Mike nodded, but he didn’t say anything.
He turned and silently retreated to his bedroom where he fell onto the bed with his hands propped behind his head and his eyes closed. Outside, he heard cars rushing by, wind chimes in the distance, and a clock ticking. The whole world was in motion, but Mike’s had come to a screeching halt with Zora at its center.
The heart of the matter clawed at him.
Who knew if this thing between them would go anywhere this time? There were no guarantees, but it was the not knowing, the what-ifs, that bothered him most.
What if Zora was the only woman for him? What if she pushed him away again?
He could still feel the hollowness in his chest. His body had ached over sleepless nights. He didn’t want to lose someone he cared for all over again.
Rolling to his side, Mike stared at the light beneath his bedroom door. Somehow, letting this chance go by before they really gave it a shot felt like a crossroads in his life. If he didn't try, he would always wonder what would have happened between them.
Mike was left with four hours to figure out which way to turn.
Chapter Fifteen
Zora
Zora leaned against the closed guest room door and sighed. The silence between her and Mike was brutal. Today was a ruthless reminder of what she already knew. This living arrangement wasn’t a good idea. How were they going to make it through a month, or more, if they could barely stand to be in the same room without giving each other the silent treatment, or resorting to knee-weakening kisses?
What had that been about?
All it did was confuse her even more, and now she was supposed to forget it happened then primp and preen for a date with a guy who kissed like a Venus flytrap?
Now that she knew the feel of Mike’s soft lips, she wanted nothing more than to stalk down the hall to his bedroom and press her lips to his again.
Zora’s breath hitched in her throat at the memory and the fantasy. She scrubbed her hands over her face.
“What am I doing?” she groaned.
On the roof, the sound of rain spattering mixed with the hum of the heater, and the muffled sounds of the city in the distance tore her from her thoughts.
She drew a deep breath and released it, looking around the room for the first time. It smelled of new paint, old books, and Fabuloso cleaner.
A giggle escaped her.
Neat freak Mike had probably been on his hands and knees scrubbing the place clean. It was so him to try and make the room as comfortable and welcoming as possible. Warmth flooded her heart at his thoughtfulness.
There was a twin bed dressed neatly in varying shades of navy cotton sheets and blankets tucked into the corner with a crocheted afghan draped over the footboard. Beside it was a small wooden nightstand adorned with a tiny succulent, an unlit Freshwater candle, a box of tissue, and a snow globe from Disneyland.
“So sweet.” She smiled.
Zora walked over, swiped a tissue for her nose, picked up the snow globe, and shook it. A flurry of glitter and smiling Mickey Mouse-shaped snowflakes twirled in the watery storm. It was such a sweet little thing to put on the nightstand. She noticed this room appeared to be designated for keepsakes.
Time ticked by as she stood near the closet and stared at a large bookcase filled with old books and more snow globes from different locations and attractions. She dragged her fingers over the spines and lightly onto the globes, reading titles and seeing the world from Mike’s souvenirs. Overwhelmingly, they all pulled at her heartstrings.
How could she know Mike and not really care to learn more about what made him tick?
Zora wanted to know the history behind every book and every globe. She wanted to know why all of it was packed away in this room and not on display in the living room, or on his nightstand.
Knowing felt urgent all of a sudden. She was inclined to ask him, when she heard a creaking door, followed by footsteps and jingling keys in the hallway. There was a knock on her door.
“You about ready?” Mike asked. His voice was gentle but stilted.