Prep work by PD Singer Read Free Book Online

the very least.”
    “Imagine that.” He leaned down to the oven with basting spoon in hand. “Me advising you on anything.”
    “Just don’t advise me to eat calf’s brains,” I had to beg. “I can’t deal with the texture.”
    “That’s your only quibble with them?” He smiled at me over his shoulder and caught me admiring his ass. “You’re in for jellied eel, though.”
    It couldn’t possibly be worse than my Australian bush food adventure. “Just pick the best place for it.”
    “Only the best.” Upright again, Tommy leaned his shoulder against my chest, his face up for a kiss I was only too glad to give him. “I’d give you my very best now, but….”
    “But you have this lunch rush going. I understand. Can I help?” Not waiting for the answer, I stuck my hands under the tap.
    He handed me an apron, better than any “yes.” “We must have some tourists out there. Someone wants a chef’s salad.”
    “I’ll do it.” Salads are low on the kitchen totem pole; I’d respect Tommy’s allowing me in again. “The greens are where?”
    “Walk-in.” And for the next hour and a half we did a culinary ballet, working around each other while I studied his dishes, making mental notes of where he kept things and what might make his life easier. We’d touched on a few last night, but there were others. And I kept the dish pit clear, though once I’d turned the water off, my stomach rumbled undisguised.
    “Bring your luggage.” Tommy dished up a large helping of shepherd’s pie, motioning me upstairs. Didn’t have to tell me twice; that morning’s cup of tea was the only thing I’d had since last night’s pea soup.
    He pulled off his jacket to reveal a thin white T-shirt, which he’d probably call something else entirely, and snuggled me into his side on the battered brown loveseat under the window, holding the bowl for me so I could inhale the fragrant ground meat and potato. A fine breakfast, punctuated with kisses. Tommy didn’t try to talk while I ate, and I didn’t provide any commentary beyond noises that sounded a lot like last night’s and a contented sigh when I finished the last drops of broth sopped up with a spoonful of potato.
    Turning against him, I draped my arm over Tommy’s stomach, prepared to stay as long as he’d let me. How long had it been since someone had fed me just because I was hungry, held me just because it was cozy, or been silent just because it was companionable? Too damned long—and now I was ready to bolt because I’d let my guard down. I told my natural suspicion to back off until we actually heard him whistling the theme from Sweeney Todd.
    He jerked his arms away at my first stiffening, not holding me down in any way, and then only slowly settled them against me again when I willed myself to calmness. “You don’t trust people easily, do you, Jude?”
    “No” was too hard to say. I shook my head, my cheek rubbing against the kitchen-scented cotton.
    “Why me?” Now Tommy asked my question. It deserved an answer.
    “Everyone wants something from me, or they’re of some use to me. Or both. And then—” I sat up to look him in the eyes, blue and unnervingly calm, considering that I’d messed with his mind so badly. “Then I found a man who wanted nothing but the pleasure of my company, doing the things I love best, and everything else is a happy bonus. So of course I invited myself into your life. You can run screaming now.”
    “I’ll give it another couple of days.” Tommy seemed to give that some serious thought. “The things you love best being sex and food?”
    “Being food done well and sex done joyfully,” I corrected him, deciding I was a very simple soul, but still, were those bad priorities? “And that really was luscious shepherd’s pie.”
    “Well, that’s one down. Why don’t we see about the joyful sex?” Putting his arms out to me, he let me melt back against him, grateful as hell that he’d seen through me. “I