Den of Sin 4: Redeeming the Amazon by L. V. Lewis & Den Of Sin Collection

Author:L. V. Lewis & Den Of Sin Collection [Lewis, L. V. & Collection, Den Of Sin]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Dramas & Plays, United States, Romance, Contemporary, Multicultural, Drama & Plays, Multicultural & Interracial
Amazon: B00HI5WHSI
Publisher: Jungle Fever Press
Published: 2014-01-09T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIVE

At his place in Baton Rouge on a quiet cul-de-sac near LSU’s campus, Paul made them omelets the next morning. The eggs were filled with red and green bell peppers and onions, all softened by a mixture of Gruyére cheese and mostly egg whites. There was a comfort in the way he moved around the kitchen that told her he wasn’t just cooking to impress. This was a common occurrence. He was certainly more skilled and confident than she was in the kitchen. She watched in awe as he tossed the omelet into the air and caught it again in the pan like an expert.

“How on earth did you do that?” Karen said, enthused by his adept handling of a fry pan.

“It’s all in the wrist,” he replied with a sexy grin. “I’ll teach you next time you’re in town.” He plated the first omelet and set it in front of her and commenced cooking the beignets he’d already rolled out and cut before he poured his own omelet into the pan.

She snorted. “I’d have egg on the floor, all over the stove, on the ceiling.”

He laughed and she delighted in being responsible for amusing him.

She purposely did not comment on the next time she’d be in town, but trained her attention on his preparation of the meal, peppering him with more questions. Karen sat perched on a stool at his breakfast bar accepting each course he set in front of her, not sure whether her mouth was watering more over his food, or the way his muscles rippled beneath his t-shirt as he cooked for her. Paul wouldn’t allow her to do anything to help him, so she felt like a queen with all the special treatment.

The promised confections made of deep-fried choux paste kicked up a mouth-watering smell as they browned in the hot oil. Karen waited the few minutes it took to plate his omelet and the beignets before she dug into her own, thus giving it a bit of time to cool down.

They scarfed down the eggs and his homemade beignets sprinkled with the requisite powdered sugar, topped off with hot café au lait. Small talk flowed between them unforced throughout the meal. It seemed they’d each found something they’d known was missing in their lives but had been afraid to acknowledge it—easy companionship.

He set his elbow on the bar, propped his chin in his hand, and watched her consume the last bite. “The verdict, mademoiselle?”

“Mmm,” Karen said. “As much as I hate to admit it, your beignets are better.”

Paul pumped his fist vigorously in the air. “Yes!”

Karen grimaced and reached for the bottom of her shirt. “I suppose I might as well get this over with.”

“Wait.” Paul said. He came around and took her hands. The expression in his eyes was soft. “I’m in no hurry. Let’s just let it happen organically. We have plenty of time left in the weekend.”

She shrugged nonchalantly and said, “Okay,” but her heart was still racing with the knowledge that Paul would be the first man since Greg to see what the mastectomy had left.

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