Page 24 of Fighting Fate
Rosie laughed, taking a sip of her wine. “I’ll make sure she hasn’t any expectations - even if he ever turns up! Mm, these look good.” She selected a cucumber spear, held it over the triad of bowls he’d set beside the plate. “So, what are the dips?”
“Beetroot and ricotta hummus, roasted eggplant, spinach and artichoke, and this one’s cashew, lime and herb. And yes, I made them.” He grinned at her raised eyebrows. “When you have a specialty diet, you either spend a lot of money getting professionals to prep stuff for you, or you get pretty good at figuring out novel and tasty ways to eat the healthy stuff you need to eat.”
He suspected she was hiding trepidation as she dipped the cucumber spear in the beetroot dip, but her eyebrows flew up after she crunched down.
“Good?” He helped himself to a piece of capsicum, scooped some of the cashew dip, his personal favourite.
“Really good!” Rosie tried the other two, hummed thoughtfully and finally proclaimed the beetroot dip her favourite. “Suzannah would love to try these. If you’re willing to share the recipes, of course.”
“Sure,” he shrugged obligingly. “Is she vegan? I have a variant for the beetroot one that’s vegan, if she is…”
“No, she’s a chef. At La Sirène.”
“Wait, the Michelin-starred chef?” Adam blinked, startled.
“Yes, but she’s not at all pretentious and she loves trying out new flavours and recipes. These are as good as anything that comes out of La Sirène’s kitchen, believe me. Well,” Rosie considered. “Maybe they don’t quite measure up to the deep-fried chocolate wontons.”
“Those sound sinful.” Adam almost groaned at the mere idea. He could barely even remember what chocolate tasted like, outside of protein shakes, which could really only be called chocolate if you were in a particularly charitable mood.
“I could probably bribe Carlo - he’s the pastry chef - to put some aside for you, if you want to try them. I’d say get a reservation, but they’re booked out months in advance.”
Adam was about to thank her for the offer but decline, when it occurred to him that he could just say yes. He didn’t have to exert iron control over every single thing he ate any more.
“I would love that,” he said. “And I’d be happy to make up some sample pots of the dips and write out the recipes, if you really think Suzannah would like to try them.”
He’d made a chicken and pumpkin risotto for the main course, which Rosie enthusiastically proclaimed as delicious too. Watching her eat, gesturing with her fork in between bites as she chatted, her face animated, he could hardly stand it. His mind wouldn’t get out of the gutter; all he wanted to do was sweep the plates off the table, lay her down on the smooth glass surface and just feast on her sweetly curvaceous body until she was screaming for him.
“You’re very quiet,” Rosie noted eventually. “Am I not letting you get a word in edgewise? Sorry.”
“I’m enjoying listening to you,” he said, quite truthfully. “You’re very funny.”
She’d been telling him an amusing anecdote about some of her co-workers, without names, obviously thoughtful of their privacy even though he wouldn’t have a clue who they were even if she had supplied the names, and she really was funny, with impeccable comic timing as she delivered the punchlines.
Rosie looked pleased by the remark, a soft pink flush rising on her cheeks. “I’m still talking too much.”
“I’m not sure I’d make much sense if I tried to talk,” he confessed. “I’m too distracted by how attractive I find you!”
“Really!” Her eyes flashed with delight, and then she set her fork down beside her plate, rose to her feet and walked around the table to him.
Adam pushed back his chair, preparing to stand up instinctively, but Rosie put her hands on his shoulders, pressing lightly, encouraging him to stay down, before twisting slightly and sitting down sideways across his lap, putting her arms around his neck. She wasn’t a tiny woman, a hearty lapful of curves he couldn’t help but fold his arms about.
“Maybe you should do something about that, then,” Rosie murmured, her voice soft and sultry.
Adam suspected she wasn’t nearly as confident as she was trying to appear; he could see the pulse beating in her throat, frantically fast, feel her quick, shallow, nervous breaths.
“What did you have in mind?” he asked, nuzzling lightly against her throat, mouth open to taste her skin, breathing in the warm, sweet, summery scent of her.
“I think you should take me to bed,” she murmured on a soft sigh, tilting her head to offer him better access to her neck.
CHAPTER TEN
ROSIE knew she wasn’t a lightweight, but Adam made her feel like one, standing up and carrying her easily with no signs of strain, out of the kitchen, through a luxuriously decorated lounge room and into a vast bedroom. There was an honest-to-goodness four-poster bed, king size at least and maybe even bigger, sheer white drapes fluttering in the light breeze blowing in through the open mesh-screened windows overlooking the pool and the sea beyond. A diffuse light glowed from a small lamp beside the bed, casting the whole room in a soft, romantic glow as Adam laid her gently on the plush mattress.
Rosie was hyper aware of everything; the softness of the high-thread-count sheets beneath her skin, silky smooth and cool against her bare arms and calves. The heat of Adam’s hands as they slid away from her body only to curl around her feet, huge, thick fingers deft as he unfastened the strap around each shoe and removed them. The gust of warmth from his breath, puffing out against her knees as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to each kneecap, making her laugh quietly.
“Really? That’s where you choose to kiss?”
“You have pretty knees,” he said gruffly, eyes very dark as he looked up at her. “I’m planning to kiss every inch of you, though, if that’s alright with you.”