Angel In Disguise. Patt Marr
she stepped aside and motioned for him to come in, Pete slid his arm around her waist tentatively. He didn’t want her to get the idea that he was a lech or anything, but a friendly “we’re in this thing together” kind of hug should be okay.
As if the hug were her own idea, Sunny snuggled into it, and Pete felt his heartbeat pick up. Except for Meggy and his mom, it had been a long time since he’d been this close to a woman. It was ridiculous how much he liked it.
She lifted her face and there wasn’t a thing he could do but give her a kiss—just a friendly “glad to see you” kiss. That’s what he intended. Who knew it would ignite into a genuine, man-to-woman, take-his-breath-away kiss? Panic ripped through his brain before instinct took over, and he deepened the kiss.
“Get a bucket of water,” someone said, “or hose ’em down.”
The rude interruption pulled them apart. Pete’s heart pounded as if he’d jogged for miles. Sunny’s face and neck were flushed, and those big, golden brown eyes looked flustered.
Her embarrassment was his fault. On second thought, the loudmouth had a lot to answer for. Pete turned, ready to silence the man, but Meggy beat him to it.
“Shut up, Brad,” she said to her camera operator.
“But we’ve got enough of this shot. They can do that on their own time. I don’t want to be here all night.”
“Shut up, or give me the camera and go to the van. We can do this without you.”
The guy clamped his jaw, and Pete grinned. Watching his sister back the guy down was sweeter than doing it himself.
“Score one for Meggy,” Sunny whispered as she pulled him inside. “I’m ready to join her fan club.”
That made two of them.
Sunny had set a table for two in a bay window. Classy, he thought. Real classy. He didn’t know they made glasses with stems that tall. “You’ve gone to a lot of trouble,” he said.
“Actually I haven’t,” she said, an honest-to-goodness blush on her cheeks.
Pete liked modesty in a woman. “Everything looks great, and the food smells good, too.”
“Thanks. Dinner’s ready. Shall we eat now?”
“Why don’t we get our guests out of here first?” Turning toward the door as the crew struggled in with their equipment, he said, “Meggy, I believe you said this wouldn’t take long?”
“It won’t. All we need is a few seconds of this and that to establish Part One of your date. Let’s start with a shot in the kitchen.”
Sunny led the way into a large, light-filled room filled with sleek cupboards, expensive-looking appliances and lush plants. Pete had worked on units like this. They didn’t come cheap. Teachers’ pay must be better than he thought.
Sunny was taller than he’d remembered, about five foot eight or nine, tall enough to be a presence in a girls’ basketball game, though her slender build belonged to a model. Her gorgeous legs were covered by jeans, but there was no way a guy could complain about the way she looked in those jeans.
Meggy removed the lid from a pot and said, “Umm, gravy. Pete, would you mind standing here while Sunny stirs this?”
Not any more than he minded everything else.
“Sunny, taste the gravy, reach for the salt and shake a little into the pot.”
For a woman who liked cooking for her dates, Pete thought Sunny seemed rather ill at ease following Meggy’s orders. Of course, a person was probably awkward doing commonplace things in front of cameras.
“Good,” Meggy said. “Now, remove whatever’s in the oven.”
Pete edged Sunny aside and said, “Let me.” He looked around for an oven mitt or pot holders, but didn’t see any. “Where are your pot holders?”
She looked at him blankly. “Pot holders?”
This TV thing must really be hard on her. “Or an oven mitt?” he suggested.
Sunny felt heat crawl up her neck. She didn’t know what he was talking about, but she knew she ought to.
“That’s okay,” he said, smiling as he reached behind her. “I’ll use this.” He grabbed a towel off the counter and used it to protect his hands as he lifted the hot pan from the oven.
Ah, that’s what he meant. He must think she was a real idiot. A person who supposedly “loved to cook” ought to have a working knowledge of basic kitchen equipment.
How was she going to get through this charade? She still felt unsettled at the way she’d greeted Pete, kissing him as if he’d just come home from a war. Though she’d offered the kiss for the folks in TV land, she’d felt its impact down to her toes. And Pete? He’d reacted as if it were his homecoming.
“Did you get the shot of Pete taking the pan out of the oven, Brad?” Meggy asked.
“Got it. You’re gonna love the shot of his backside.”
This guy’s survival instincts were pretty weak. From the set of Pete’s jaw, Sunny would say Brad was asking for trouble.
“We’re almost through,” Meggy said grimly, apparently fed up with the guy herself. “Let’s get a shot of you two at the table, toasting each other.”
Toasting she knew how to do, and Sunny breathed easier. From the refrigerator she pulled out a bottle of sparkling cider and handed it to Pete. “Will you do the honors?”
The label seemed to surprise him. She wouldn’t argue about it and he didn’t have to drink it, but that’s all she kept in the house. “Nonalcoholic,” she said with no apology.
“Good,” he said, going to work unwrapping the seal.
That was different. Her ex always ridiculed her beverage preference.
Muscles rippled in Pete’s arm as he opened the bottle, and the fabric of his blue denim shirt strained across his broad, muscular back. This was a guy who worked out.
There was a tiny scar intersecting his left eyebrow that she hadn’t noticed before, and faint scars near his ear and under his chin. Strangely, the imperfections made her more comfortable.
“Do you want to get the glasses?” he asked.
“What? Oh, sure.” Sunny retrieved them from the table, wondering why he hadn’t taken the bottle there. Maybe he wanted more time away from Brad and his camera. That she understood.
He took one goblet and filled it. “I thought we could use a minute without an audience,” he said, confirming her suspicion. “Your dinner looks great.”
“I just hope it’s half as good as your mother’s,” she said, knowing it wouldn’t be if she’d cooked it.
“I expect it’s even better.”
He smiled again, and Sunny’s heart seemed to contract. The shine in those blue eyes made her wonder if all handsome charmers had to be bad.
They carried their glasses to the dining area, and Meggy asked, “Sunny, do you want to keep the apron on?”
Oops. She’d forgotten the thing, maybe subconsciously, for as much as she had resisted wearing the apron, she now dreaded taking it off. She knew she had a good figure, but she took pride in the condition of her body, its strength and health, not its shape, and she never purposely called attention to herself. However, she’d better follow orders unless she wanted to hear about it from Mouse.
Untying the apron was a bit tedious because somehow she’d knotted the strings. Getting the apron over her head without messing up her big hair was slow-going, too. Finally she tossed the apron aside and sneaked a glance at Pete to see if Mouse’s brother was right about the tight white top.