SECRET Revealed by L. Marie Adeline Page A

with Dixie, batting her away from the recipes and supplier lists strewn about my kitchen table. But Matilda convinced me to spend it with her and Jesse, who was at his own loose ends because his son would be at his ex’s.
    It was a cozy affair, if a little awkward. We gathered in the eat-in kitchen at the Mansion. Matilda thought it would be fun to use the house for purposes other than sex. After all, it was a stunning location, and the kitchen featured top-of-the-line appliances. She answered the side door in jeans, slippers and a sweater, looking radiant and eerily young without any makeup, her red, shiny hair down around her shoulders. I was overdressed in my sparkly top and heels.
    “Cassie, you look lovely,” she said, taking my coat.
    “Suddenly I feel like a walking Christmas tree.”
    “I should have told you pajamas would be appropriate.”
    I handed Matilda a bottle of mid-price champagne and marveled at the smells wafting out of the kitchen.
    “Claudette made a beautiful turkey,” Matilda said. Claudette was the live-in help at the Mansion. She was not only discreet but clearly a talented cook. As I followed Matilda to the kitchen, I took in the enormous appliances working overtime and the pine table already set with a basket of biscuits, a tureen of soup and a big bowl of salad.
    “Last time I was in this room …” I said, not able to finish my sentence because just then Jesse walked out of the powder room, where my fourth fantasy had played out, the one with the famous hip hop star, the one that involved oral sex while a big pot of gumbo simmered on the stove.
    Jesse wiped his wet hands on his sweatshirt. “Last time you were here, what?” he said, kissing the side of my head. “Nah, don’t tell me. I prefer to imagine it. Hope you brought your appetite.”
    It had been more than two months since Latrobe’s, and I hadn’t seen much of Jesse. We’d texted now and again, and made vague plans to see a movie, but nothing solidified. We were both ridiculously busy, but mostly I didn’t want to know too much about his involvement in S.E.C.R.E.T. Problem was, though helping with Solange’s fantasy had taken my mind off Will, it sent my thoughts right back to … sex.
    Now, with Jesse on my right looking all kinds of hot inhis red plaid shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal his tattoos, hair slicked back, face cleanly shaved, it was hard not to sneak glances at him. I squirmed in my seat, watching the muscles in his jaw clench as he chewed on a breadstick. God, he was sexy. I forgot how much I loved watching him eat. He worked with food, so he had a passion for it, and he was nothing if not a man of appetites.
    After dinner, he reached over and poured more wine for Matilda, then for me, before refreshing his own glass.
    “To Christmas misfits,” Matilda said, raising a glass for toasts. “May we always find comfort in one another’s company.”
    “And to ex-lovers. May they be ever in our hearts,” Jesse said, “even if they’re not in our beds.”
    I felt my face redden. “Jesse Turnbull, you are drunk,” Matilda scolded. “That’s not proper dinner talk. Apologize to Cassie immediately.”
    “To whom?” he said, a weary smile on his face. Without waiting for her reply, he turned to me and placed his hand over my forearm. “Cassie, forgive me, I am a little drunk and that was rude. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
    “I will make us some coffee,” Matilda said, rising from the table.
    I turned to Jesse, who suddenly seemed agitated. “Are you okay?” I whispered. He couldn’t possibly still be upset about our breakup, if you could even call it that—could he?
    “I’m fine, but I think it’s time for me to fly,” he said. “Matilda, tell Claudette dinner was amazing.”
    I expected her to insist he stay, at the very least for a coffee. But without replying she buzzed for the limousine.
    “I got my truck.”
    “And I have your keys,” she said. “You’ll get your truck