you want.”
Both of them nodded and he poured out three glasses. “Before you came, Izzy, Gemma was insulting my lasagna recipe.” He pointed with one finger of the hand carrying his glass. “Cream, onions, garlic, ground beef, cheese, ketchup, those sheets of flat lasagna stuff...what did I miss?”
“ Marinara sauce!” Gemma said, nearly growling. “It’s essential. And you have cheap dried garlic in a container, not fresh.”
After rubbing his chin, Cross sighed. “Women. Throw it all in.”
“Throw? What say we toss you in for flavor?” Gemma glared in an exaggerated way.
So cute, watching her glare. Izzy grinned and waited to see what would happen next.
“Want to try?” Slowly, he placed his goblet on the counter with the tiny chime of glass on granite. His chuckle sounded both amused and menacing enough to make the hairs stand up on her neck. How the hell he managed that, Izzy wasn’t sure, but she rushed in to defuse whatever it was Gemma had provoked.
“ Want me to run to the supermarket?”
“No, no.” She waved a hand negligently. “I can whip something up with this. My grandfather owned a Greek restaurant.”
“Really? ” Izzy said. “I’d have pegged you for Irish with the light skin and red hair.”
She rolled her eyes. “Everybody sees red and freckles and thinks Irish.” She reached for the bottle of Merlot. “I’ll need this. Cross is right. Wine is good for flavor.”
“So ...” Izzy put her hands together as if praying then tapped her fingers. “We’re cooking and he’s watching? Isn’t that backward? I thought you invited us so you could cook?”
Cross shrugged and took another swallow. “I’m happy to watch you two make a mess in my kitchen.” He examined them both, smiling. “I figure you can cook better than I can, and I’m certain the lasagna will be as tasty as you two are to watch.”
She snorted. “ I can see through your flattery.”
“ Yeah,” Gemma chimed in. “This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?”
He cocked his head. The man wasn’t the prettiest to start with but his little smile made a glow kindle in her chest.
“You think I’m the sort of man that confesses...”
Under torture – the rest of that phrase sprang into Izzy’s thoughts. And boy, she wouldn’t mind him torturing her.
Get a grip . He’s got more eyes for Gemma. It was true. He and Gemma had hit it off with all their threatening and friendly banter and tattoos.
“Come on,” she said softly, nudging Gemma back. “Let’s get started.
Chopping, frying, ladling out the meat sauce, and all the other cooking things took up time but the three of them somehow managed to chat about anything and everything, as well as the odd insult and physical threat. It was fun and somehow always slightly dangerous exchanging words with Cross. Like if she set her foot just a little too far into his territory he might drag her into his cave and... swallow hard past the pounding in her ears ...have her.
Eating the lasagna at the dining table was just as co zy and friendly with that tinge of dark excitement now and then. She could get used to being around both of them.
Sometime between lasagna and dessert, they made her go take off her jeans so she could show her new tattoo, and they hadn’t let her put them back on. Who was it that designed jeans so tight you couldn’t get them above your ankle unless you were frickin Superwoman – or a supermodel? The shirt was long enough to be a short dress but she felt so exposed.
Mistake maybe? But Gemma had traced the lines of the phoenix with her finger. That had been so worth it, even if her heart had nearly burst.
The woman gave her so many mixed signals ...or maybe she was receiving them wrong? Cross making them kiss hadn’t really settled much except to prove that she still desired women. What was going on in Gemma’s head was harder to figure out. Bold and crazy and passionate pretty much summed her up, so kissing a woman might