Page 12 of Screwed
“Would you mind washing out that mixer bowl?”
“Sure.” He carried the heavy bowl to the sink and ran hot water into it. “I never thought I’d say this, but you need a bigger kitchen.”
He glanced over his shoulder at her when she didn’t reply and saw her staring into the bowl of almond flour and sugar. The expression on her face, the soft pout of her lips and droop of her eyes, made his chest ache. Damn. She’d been talking last night about selling this house because it was too big for one person. He’d stuck his boot in his mouth.
He dried the bowl, watching her cracking eggs and separating the whites from the yolks, impressed with her skill. When he tried to do that he ended up with pieces of shell and broken yolks. Then she added some of the egg whites to the big bowl and stirred it all up into a paste.
“Do you really want to sell the house?” he asked.
She didn’t look at him, focusing on stirring. “I’d miss this kitchen, that’s for sure. But it’s crazy for me to be here all alone.” For a brief moment, Beau’s absence loomed like a hulking proverbial elephant in the big kitchen. She set down the spatula. “Okay, now I have to make the syrup.”
“This is complicated.”
She smiled. “A little. But so worth it.”
“Does that batter taste good, too?”
Her lips twitched. She measured sugar and water into a saucepan and attached a thermometer to the side. “You shouldn’t eat raw eggs.”
“Aren’t there eggs in the cookie dough?”
“No. I use a special eggless recipe because we’re going to eat it raw.”
“Ah well, I like to live dangerously.” He shrugged and dipped a small spoon into the bowl. “Hmm. Interesting. Very almond-y.”
Callie laughed. “That would be right. You could put the other egg whites into that clean bowl and start the mixer.”
“This machine is dangerous looking.” But he did as she asked, the evil-looking beaters whipping the egg whites into a froth. For a moment, they were both silent as the machine buzzed away. Then she moved to peek into the bowl, stopping the beaters to check the egg whites.
“Soft peaks,” she confirmed.
Oh man. He had a dirty mind, because that made him think of other soft peaks. His gaze dropped to Callie’s chest, her high, firm breasts outlined by the tight pink tank top she wore. He swallowed.
“Okay, keep the mixer going on low while I get this syrup to the right temperature.” Moments later she was satisfied and began to drizzle the syrup into the egg whites. She revved up the motor on the mixer and soon had a bowl full of glossy white meringue.
“ThatI need to taste,” he said. “Seriously.”
Callie shook her head but didn’t smack his hand when he dipped into it. She added a few drops of food coloring and continued mixing until it was all a uniform pale-gold color. “Okay.” She hefted the bowl, muscles in her slender arms flexing. Damn. That was hot. That shouldn’t be hot. But it was. She began mixing meringue into the other bowl of sugar and almond flour, bit by bit, until she judged it was right. Ribbons of batter ran off the spatula when she lifted it out of the bowl. “Perfect.” She gave a nod.
It was also hot that she was such an expert at this. Hell, it was only making cookies, albeit fancy ones, but she was so focused and intent on what she was doing, his body flooded with an intense longing to jump her.
Damn. He closed his eyes. That could never happen.
Chapter Three
Callie licked some batter off her finger. “Mmm. Thatisgood.” Then she looked up at Cash and found his eyes on her. His very hot, interested eyes. She paused with her finger in her mouth, staring back at him.
Whoa.
Her heart gave a kick in her chest. Cash could not be looking at her that way, as if he wanted to spread batter all over her naked body and lick it off. And she could not be thinking that she might…like that.
She gulped and grabbed a towel to wipe her hands. “Okay,” she said a little breathlessly. “Time to pipe the batter onto the baking sheets.”
She’d already lined them with parchment.
“Um, maybe you could hold the pastry bag for me?” Her skin tingled all over. “While I get the batter in it.” She handed him the flexible cone, and he held it as she scraped in the pale batter. She was standing close enough to smell his aftershave again, the spicy, sexy scent she knew as Cash. Close enough to feel his body heat. Close enough to admire his biceps in a snug T-shirt. She pulled in a deep breath and focused on piping the meringue into perfect rounds on the parchment.
“How many of these are you making? Looks like enough for a football team.”
