“Yes, please.”
A few minutes later, Marina and I both have pistachio, mine in a cone and hers in a dish. The heat is still a thing, despite the sun having set, and I have to work fast to keep my gelato from melting down my cone and all over my hand. I do the lick-and-spin move my mom taught me when I was a kid, and when I glance back at Marina, she’s watching me. Just…watching. Andthe look on her face is something I’m not sure I have right. Wishful thinking, maybe?
“How’s yours?” I ask, indicating her bowl with my eyes.
“Perfetto. Yours?”
“The best I’ve ever had. Hands down. So good. Thank you for suggesting we stop.”
She seems to study me for a moment, like she’s not sure she should say what she wants to say but then decides to. “I wasn’t ready for the night to end,” she says simply, and does that half shrug thing again.
“Same,” I say, and when she gives me a puzzled look, I add, “It means me too. My niece says it all the time.”
“Ah.” She nods, and I’m pretty sure her smile grows.
My cone is now manageable, so I can pay attention as we stroll toward my hotel. When we get to the front door, I stop and look at Marina. I clear my throat. “I also wasn’t ready for the night to end,” I admit, my voice quiet. “But I have Reggie. He’s gonna need to go out and eat and all that good stuff, so…”
“He needs his mamma, as all good dogs do.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, I will leave you to him. Please give him a pet for me.” She eats the last bite of her gelato, then says, “And remember, text me if you need to.”
What if Iwantto?I almost ask but catch myself. “I will. Thank you, Marina.”
With a nod and a last glimpse of the sultry smile, she turns to go.
I watch. I admit it. Just like last time, the sway of her hips holds my attention. Damn, she is incredibly sexy. I can admit that to myself now that she’s not standing next to me. Something about thinking that while she’s right there in my space feels weird to me, but now that she’s gone, the thoughts come rushing in like a dam just broke.
“All right, Chambers,” I mutter to myself as I pop the last of my waffle cone into my mouth, and Marina disappears around a corner. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”
I haven’t been interested in another woman in quite some time, and I’m not about to start with somebody who’s more than a decade younger than I am. No. She’s fun to look at, but that’s all. Well, she’s fun to look at, and she’s great company. Butthat’sall.
Chapter Seven
A day and a half has gone by since my cooking class with Marina, and guess what I’m doing.
That’s right.
I’m working.
Well. I’m trying to. And I’ve done a bit.
Not a lot. Not nearly what I need to. But I’m writing and it’s the teeniest, tiniest of starts. I’m sending my pastry chefs to a retreat. A very sought-after, exclusive, invitation only retreat, taught by a renowned pastry chef mentor. They don’t know the other will be there. A little forced proximity—especially for two people who already have a history—ratchets up the sexual tension, I have discovered, so that’ll help. Another day or two and I should have enough to send to Scott, to tide him over for a while. My relief is so solid, it feels like I could hold it in my hands.
Marina definitely helped with inspiration, that’s true. One of my chefs has to make some dough, and her kneading of it becomes a very sensuous thing for the other character to watch. I remember Marina’s hands as she taught me how to knead the pasta dough, pulling it in with my palm, pushing it out with the heel of my hand. Honestly, how can something as simple and basic as kneading dough become sexy? How does it stir up desire? I have no idea, but as I was writing the scene, it absolutely did.
And now I sit back in my chair in front of the window of the living room and blow out a breath of relief. It’s a scene. Notan entire screenplay, but a scene. A start. I still don’t feel quite right, not super creative, the words aren’t flowing out of my fingers like they so often have, but it’s a start. I’ll take it. At this point, I’ll take just about anything.
Serena invited Reggie and me to join her for dinner tonight, so I take a quick shower and dress in a lightweight sundress. It’s still stupid hot out, and I know Serena will likely have us sitting out back with that light, warm breeze.
When we arrive at Serena’s, Ria leads us out back, as I predicted, where Serena is already sitting on a cushioned lounge with her feet tucked under her. She gets up to hug me and waves a finger up and down in front of me. “Love that dress.”
I give a soft laugh. “I was wondering if you’d seen it already. My supply of clean clothes is running low. Do you know if there’s a laundromat or something around here?” Ria hands me a glass of wine as I sit.
Serena makes apfftsound and waves a hand. “Bring your laundry here. Ria will do it for you.”
I scoff. “I’m not going to make Ria do my laundry. Absolutely not. I can do it myself.” I see Ria hiding a grin as she heads back inside.
