Coda Books 04 - Strawberries for Dessert (MM)

it. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do, Marcus. You know that.”
    He smiled. “Good man.” He stood up, which told me our meeting was over, and I followed suit. “Go home and get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

    I LEFT the office with my head full of visions of moving to another state and the possible promotion that might come along with a new position. I drove home in a bit of a daze. My first indication that something strange was going on was the Saab parked in my driveway.
    When I walked in the front door, I found Julia sitting on the couch with a glass of wine.
    “How was your trip?” she asked.
    “Uneventful,” I told her as I dumped my luggage just inside the door. “What are you doing here?”
    “Your boyfriend asked me to let him in—”
    “My what ?”
    “—and I wasn’t going to at first. But somehow he talked me into it, and—”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “—it’s so sweet, wanting to surprise you with dinner—”

    I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I crossed the living room and pushed through the swinging door that led to the kitchen. Cole was at the stove, and I snapped at him, “What the hell are you doing here?”
    He didn’t even turn to look at me. “I’m making dinner, sugar. Isn’t it obvious?”
    “You just decided to break into my house and make dinner?”
    “There’s no need to be dramatic,” he said, turning to face me. “I didn’t break i n .” He was dressed like before: dark, slim-fitting pants and some kind of lightweight sweater in a pale shade of green. It accentuated his eyes, which I could see now weren’t brown but hazel.
    He was barefoot, and for some reason I found my gaze drawn to his slender feet. “Look, I’m sorry if I upset you. I really am.” And he did sound more sincere than usual. “But I know how it is when you’re traveling, eating at restaurants all the time, and I thought you might appreciate a home-cooked meal. That’s all, sugar. I tried to call, but it went straight to voice mail.” Of course. My phone had been turned off since I’d boarded the plane in LA nearly five hours earlier. “I’m sure it was terribly inappropriate, coercing poor Julia into letting me in. But if I waited until you got home to start cooking, we wouldn’t be eating until after eight. So I decided to take a chance.”
    And to be honest, my anger was fading. It really was a thoughtful gesture. I couldn’t remember the last time somebody had made any kind of effort for me. After ten days in LA, eating out for every breakfast, lunch, and dinner, the idea of a quiet meal at home was infinitely more appealing than a crowded restaurant. The mouth- watering aroma of whatever it was he was making wasn’t hurting his cause any either. Maybe the way to a man’s heart really was through his stomach, because at that moment, I really could have kissed him.
    “Thank you,” I said quietly. He turned away from me quickly, but I still saw the blush that had appeared on his cheeks. “What are you making?”
    He glanced at me over his shoulder quickly before turning away again. “Sautéed pasta with lobster.”
    “It smells amazing.”

    He turned back to me with a flirtatious smile. “It ought to, doll. I’m an excellent cook.”
    “Do you need any help?”
    “Cooking? No. But you could set the table. Tell Julia there’s plenty if she wants to stay.”
    Julia! I had forgotten all about her. After my entrance, I had no doubt she was expecting me to be angry with her for letting him in. I went back into the living room and found her pacing.
    “Jonathan, I’m so sorry!” she said as soon as I walked into the room. “I shouldn’t have—”
    “It’s fine, Julia. Really.”
    She looked skeptical. “I promise not to do it again.”
    “It’s okay. He caught me off guard, but it’s really not a problem. I’m glad you let him in.”
    “Okay. If you’re sure….”
    “I am. He says there’s plenty, if you want to join us.”
    She grinned at me. “And crash your date? Not a chance.”
    “It’s just dinner,” I said as she turned to leave.
    “You know, Jon,” she said as she opened the door, “I think he’s a keeper.”
    “ It’s just dinner ,” I said again. But she was already gone.

    NOT only had he made dinner, he also brought a bottle of white wine.
    “I usually drink red,” I told him as he poured it.
    He tipped his head so his bangs fell in his eyes. The light in my living room was better than it had