Man With A Mission. Muriel Jensen
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Название: Man With A Mission
Автор: Muriel Jensen
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
isbn: 9781472025128
isbn:
“I can,” she said, pretending an ease she didn’t feel at all. She offered her plate to Rachel, who chose a little square of cake with lots of cream.
“Yum!” Rachel anticipated her first bite with a gleam in her eye.
“Hank?” Jackie offered him the plate.
After a moment of surprise, he selected a plain tube of a cookie with chocolate inside. “Thank you,” he said.
“You’re welcome.”
They studied each other warily for an instant, then seemed to reach the mutual decision that this moment was meant for peaceful celebration.
He snapped the cookie in half with his teeth and made a sound of approval, then popped the other half into his mouth.
Jackie dipped a plastic fork into a brownie-like concoction covered with a white chocolate mousse and took a bite.
“This is to die for,” she said, putting the fork into it again and offering it to Rachel.
It earned another “Yum!”
She scooped up a bit of the mousse, determined to appear unaffected by his nearness. Intending to hand him the handle of the fork, she turned his way. “Bite?” she asked.
His closeness stole her breath. He simply sat beside her, but his large body seemed to block out everything behind him, his arm along the back of the booth hemming her in, tightening her space.
Curiously, it was not an altogether unpleasant sensation.
“Please,” he replied without making a move to take the fork. His eyes told her he didn’t believe she had the courage to feed him the bite.
Flustered and challenged, she did it before she could think twice.
His strong teeth closed around the little fork as he slipped the morsel off, watching her with mingled surprise and reevaluation.
“Here we are!” Haley appeared with Erica, then stopped in the act of placing their plates on the table, her attention snagged by Jackie, still holding the empty fork to the edge of Hank’s lips. She looked from one to the other, obviously confused.
Jackie lowered the fork and turned back to her plate. “All right, you two,” she said to Rachel and Hank as though they’d wrested samples from her. “The rest is mine.” She dropped the fork on her plate and lowered her hand to her knee, hoping to hide its trembling.
Haley finally distributed plates and slipped into the booth beside Rachel, Erica sitting on the end.
Bridget arrived with a tray bearing a large pot of tea and several cups. “Here we are,” she said, handing out cups and a big-handled mug for Hank. She hesitated over Hank’s mug as she poured. “Is this going to be all right for you, Hank, or would you prefer something else to drink?”
The aroma of orange and cloves wafted around them from the steaming tea.
“This is fine,” he said. “Thank you, Bridget.”
“Good. I’ll bring tiramisu as soon as it comes out of the kitchen.” She picked up her tray, returned a wave to Cecilia across the room and left.
“What is that?” Rachel asked.
Jackie was beginning to feel more like herself, in control again and steady. “It’s a cake soaked in Kah-lúa, I think, and topped with whipped cream.”
“What’s Clua?”
She should have guessed that was coming.
“It’s Kah-lú-a,” she enunciated. “That’s a coffee-flavored liqueur. It’s alcohol. Sometimes people put it in their coffee or make other drinks with it.”
Jackie was not surprised to learn she hadn’t answered all her questions.
“If it tastes like coffee,” Rachel asked, “why do they put it in coffee? Isn’t that a lot of coffee?”
“It doesn’t seem to be,” she replied. “It tastes wonderful.” Before Rachel could ask another question, Jackie forestalled her by pointing to a round cookie covered in powdered sugar. “Try that one next,” she encouraged. “You’ll love it.”
Distracted, Rachel was mercifully silent as she ate.
“I love it here, Mom!” Erica held up a macaroon drizzled with chocolate. “Is this one of those coconut cookies?”
At Jackie’s nod, she took a careful bite, then apparently finding its taste satisfactory, took a bigger bite. She wriggled in her seat while she chewed, her eyes focused on her mother, obviously about to make a statement.
After finally swallowing, she said eagerly, “When it’s my birthday, can we have my party here instead of at the pizza place? My friends and I can all dress up and have pots of tea. I’m going to be eleven, after all.”
“That’s coming up, isn’t it?” Haley asked. “March something?”
“Twentieth,” Erica said. “And instead of seeing a movie we could do something more grown-up.”
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