Sweet Persuasions by Rochelle Alers

Author:Rochelle Alers
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2011-10-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

“Don’t you dare move,” Xavier warned softly when Selena reached over to take his plate. “You cooked, so I’ll clear the table.”

“May I put away the leftovers?”

Xavier’s eyes, brimming with tenderness and a passion that was becoming more and more difficult to conceal, stared at the woman whose cooking skills had exceeded his expectations. It was as if Selena Yates was a twenty-first-century renaissance woman. She was a fabulous cook, made delicious and eye-pleasing confectionery and the furnishings in her apartment had been selected with a discerning eye usually attributed to a professional decorator. It was as if she’d had cornered the monopoly on creativity.

Over a dinner of roast turkey with cornbread stuffing, baked sweet potatoes, smothered cabbage and light, fluffy biscuits, Selena told him about growing up in West Virginia where who your people were meant everything. The Yates believed in God, family and country. They’d sacrificed their lives when they’d defended their country during the various wars and worked in coal mines, a few losing their lives in explosions and caveins. They were uncomplicated and very proud. Those who left because they’d yearned for a world beyond Matewan always returned to reconnect with their roots for holidays, weddings and funerals.

“Yes, baby. You may put away the leftovers.”

Pushing back her chair, Selena stood up. She switched on the radio on the countertop, turning it to a station featuring soundtracks. “I can’t believe I have to ask permission to move around my own kitchen,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Now you know how I felt when you ordered me out of my own car,” Xavier retorted, stacking plates and serving pieces.

“That was for your own good, Xavier Eaton.”

“And my helping you clean up is for your own good, Selena Yates. You run a business that’s open five days a week and you’ve posted a sign that all items are made on the premises. Should I assume that you make everything?”

She gave him a sidelong glance when he stood at the sink rinsing dishes before stacking them in the dishwasher. “I do.”

“When do you get the time to do everything?”

“I do most of my baking on Mondays. I’ve learned not to make too many of any particular item because it will have to be thrown out. In my opinion, throwing away food is comparable to a mortal sin. Everything is made with natural ingredients, so they have a very short shelf life.”

“Have you thought about donating what you consider leftovers to a food pantry or homeless shelter?”

Her hands stilled. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

Moving behind Selena, Xavier looped his arm around her waist. “I love this song. Come dance with me.”

Turning in his loose embrace, Selena placed her left hand on Xavier’s shoulder as he pulled her close. His low melodious voice singing “Hungry Eyes,” from the Dirty Dancing movie soundtrack caressed her ear. She’d heard the song countless times, but this was the first time she actually listened to the lyrics.

As she melted into his strength, losing herself in the

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