Can't Buy Love by Rylon Jayne

Author:Rylon, Jayne [Rylon, Jayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotica
ISBN: 9781419933141
Publisher: Ellora's Cave
Published: 2011-02-22T22:00:00+00:00

Love Me Tender

A buzzer riots, scaring me half to death.

I’ve never used my houseboat apartment’s kitchen before. At least it was one less room I’d had to declutter to prepare for my guest. I glance around, quadruple checking all my arrangements. Another blast of the insistent timer jolts me into action.

I wrench open the oven then stand there, head tilted, staring. What the heck is pork satay supposed to look like when it’s done? I’ve only ever beheld the finished product, meat and sauce mingled together in a mass of gooey scrumptiousness on a restaurant’s plate. Hints of rich Indonesian culture are sprinkled across Amsterdam, a relic of colonial conquests. The exotic influences are some of my favorites.

I suppose the bubbling liquid in the pot and the chunk of pork emitting juicy steam could be correct. At the last second, I remember to check Mari’s note.

Use the thermometer. When it hits 70°C take the tenderloin out and cover it with aluminum foil until you’re ready to eat.

Right. I rummage in the sack of supplies she gave me as a late Christmas present until I put my hand on something that looks more like an oil gauge on a stick than my idea of a thermometer. A few degrees over, good enough.

Two hand towels from my bathroom serve as makeshift potholders. I slide the roasting pan onto the cooktop then grab the pot handle, intending to slather my sauce over the meat until I read the next line of her instructions.

Do NOT combine the dishes until you serve them.

Damn. Can it truly matter? Better play it safe. I stop the thick concoction just before it spills over the lip. My overcorrection slops some out the side, onto my hand.

My shriek and curses come at the same instant as the ringing doorbell, followed by a louder version of the knock I adore.

“Sarah?” Rick shouts from the deck of the vessel I rent.

I bite my lip and try to tone down my swearing.

I lick the cooled glop from the crook between my thumb and forefinger. Not bad! Then I hurry across the hardwood to admit my visitor. I don’t even have time to check out the long curls Mari dressed in my hair before flipping open the door.

“Hi.” Really? Brilliant, Sarah.

“Hi.” Rick peers around me toward the kitchen. “Everything all right?”

“Uh-huh.” I hide my hand behind my back and step aside so he can enter.

He bends down to kiss me. We both freeze, unsure of how to proceed. I refuse to make the only date of my life awkward. Denying our physical attraction now would be ridiculous. I savor his lips, loving the thrill such a simple treasure can inspire.

“Mmm.” He doesn’t pursue more than a brief yet thorough welcome. “These are for you.”

He offers me a giant bouquet from Amsterdam’s famous flower market. No boring roses here. I recognize the green chrysanthemums, a few orchids and sprigs of verbena—making me wonder if Rick could possible enjoy Faulkner as much as I—between the tiny twisted twigs and unusual samples of beauty.

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