“Cole definitely had the best gift yesterday,” Elle said and Tatiana managed not to preen. “But you won the Best Present award today.” Elle laughed, which always came out as something of a snort. It was a little shocking, considering Elle appeared so elegant and her laugh was anything but an elegant noise. “You should’ve seen your face when you opened the strawberry-and-champagne massage oil.”

Tatiana grabbed her water bottle from the holder and took a swig without breaking stride. Two miles on the treadmill and she was sweating like a pig. She’d never managed that glistening business. She sweated and it wasn’t pretty. She plonked the water bottle back in the space above the treadmill’s digital readout.

“It certainly wasn’t what I was expecting.” And the massage oil had definitely captured her imagination. Along with the tongue-in-cheek typed note attached to the bottle. To ensure your good taste.

“Hey, it’s the unexpected stuff that’s the best,” Elle said. “You’ll have to let me know when you’ve tried it. I might pick some up for me and Teddy.”

Elle and her fiancé hadn’t already been there and done that? Surprising. Elle spilled all kinds of details about herself and Teddy, the wonder hottie in an accountant’s guise. “It won’t be anytime soon. Flavored oil strikes me as a two-party event, and right now there’s no one on my invitation list.”

The frequent travel that came with her job had been the death of her last relationship. Hel-lo. What had Max expected? Connoisseur was a travel magazine that catered to food aficionados, travel being a definitive word. She’d marked Max off the list several months ago and she’d had neither the time nor the inclination to replace him.

And just because Cole Broad-Shoulders Mitchell came to mind now didn’t mean she wanted to taste-test with him. Maybe she’d had the brief, passing thought of his square, very masculine hands-so shoot her that she’d noticed he had rather sexy hands-smoothing the fragranced oil over her shoulders, along her back and to various and sundry points of interest. Heat flashed through her that had nothing to do with her treadmill workout.

She most definitely didn’t have a thing for him. It was just one of those situations where he was front and center, unfortunately, in her world, since she had to buy gifts for him and meet him for dinner and work on those stinking articles with him. And maybe he had a way of looking at her that made her think of…well, things best not thought of. Nope, it was simply a case of him being the most prominent male in her life right now that had her playing him into the love-me-lick-me scenario in her head. And how sad was that?

“Want to trade gifts?” Elle offered.

Tatiana’s treadmill slowed down and then stopped. Two and a half miles.“Your box of biscotti for my flavored massage oil?” She pretended to consider it. “Uh…no. The massage oil should keep for a while until I find someone willing to slather it on and nibble it off.”

Elle laughed. She’d hardly broken a sweat. “That’s what I thought you’d say, but it was worth a try. Aren’t you dying to know who your Secret Santa is and what they have in mind next? Massage oil today…what about tomorrow?”

Tatiana spritzed the treadmill with disinfectant and wiped it off for the next victim. She blotted sweat from her face and neck.

“I don’t know. I’m curious, but it could be anyone. Except Melvin, of course. I don’t think-jiggy meds or not-he’d give me flavored massage oil. Maybe somebody meant it as a joke.”

“Maybe.Maybe not. What if it wasn’t? What if your Secret Santa is actually a secret admirer?” Elle possessed a dramatic streak.

“I think my Secret Santa is someone with a sense of humor,” Tatiana said.

“There were definitely more funny gifts today. Melvin’s was a riot, but I thought Cole’s was a little mean.”

“I thought they were both funny and apropos.” She kept her voice and expression nonchalant. Elle was fishing. Someone had given Melvin a weekly pill organizer with three daily slots, like the one Grandma Rumasky used to organize her meds. Given that Melvin’s medications were public fodder, everyone, including Melvin, had found it hilarious.

She’d found the silver-plated spoon at the second store she’d checked. Once again the group, Cole included, had laughed. She didn’t feel a bit guilty. Well, maybe just a hair. But it had been funny and it was a much-needed reminder to herself that no matter how charming and entertaining a dinner companion he was, he’d still slid into his job without paying his dues. If he wanted to play the family-influence card to get his job, then he’d have to play with the whole deck.

Chapter 5

Half a week later, on Wednesday evening, they had two meals down and two to go. Cole watched candlelight flicker across the porcelain planes of Tatiana’s face. Tonight it was a seafood restaurant that served the theater district. Last night had been a new barbecue eatery in Harlem, around the corner from Clinton’s One Hundred and Twenty-Fifth Street law offices.

“At least Melvin gave us a variety,” Tatiana said.

“Definitely.Last night barbecue, blues and rousing fun.Tonight seafood, saxophone and sultry romance.” Although it had limited the number of tables the restaurant could accommodate, each table was practically an island unto itself with the placement of potted palms, ferns and privacy screens. The decor and the music created a nostalgic Casablanca-esque mood.

Cole put down his fork. Sweet mango married with a hint of red pepper and delicate sea bass melted against his tongue. Interesting without being fussy.

“Good choice,” he remarked to Tatiana, offering his opinion on her entrée. He’d eaten countless meals. He loved sharing good food. Of course, the downside to reviewing restaurants was that he’d likewise shared some mediocre to outright lousy food or service or, worst-case scenario, a combination thereof.

Good food and the enjoyment of good food held an inherent sensuality, but tonight, with Tatiana, it took on a new level of intimacy. What was it about this woman that sparked such an awareness in him?

“Want to try mine?” he asked.

“Just a bite.”

Normally he’d place a bit of the cedar-plank-smoked trout on a butter plate and pass it to her. Instead something drove him to offer her the taste on the tip of his fork. She had the most exquisite mouth. Not too full and pouty and not too thin-lipped and small, but the perfect blend of the two, with a slightly full lower lip. Her mouth sent his mind wandering into the dangerous territory of long, hot, lingering kisses and the even more dangerous terrain of Madame Snark plying her gorgeous mouth over his chest, down his belly, trailing tendrils of her red hair against his skin as she sucked and kissed her way down to his waiting-No. He did not need to go there in his mind in the middle of a working dinner. Sitting across from her and fantasizing his way to a hard-on wasn’t the brightest idea.

She hesitated for just a second and then leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the tines. She held the sample in her mouth for a moment, her eyelids lowered to half-mast, as if she was totally focused on assimilating the flavors, the texture. Then she began to chew slowly. Lust gripped him, and with each slow, deliberate chew, it wound a little tighter inside him. Finally, thank goodness, she swallowed.

“I wasn’t sure if the fennel would work with the trout or if it would overpower it, but it works nicely,” Tatiana said.

“Uh-huh.” He’d nearly had a moment watching her chew a piece of fish.

Briefly awareness shimmered in her eyes and then vanished. “What’s your favorite place you’ve traveled in the last year?” she asked. Was that a hint of desperation in her husky tone?

He decided to take advantage of the change in subject. “No doubt about it. It’s Corfu, with its sun-drenched days and fresh, simple fare. There’s a taverna that sits at the edge of the white-pebbled bay, and they serve prawn saganaki-fresh prawns in garlic, olive oil, tomatoes, feta and cream.”

“Stop. You’re making my mouth water!”

He grinned. “It’s incredible. I stayed in a whitewashed villa set in the middle of olive trees. My bedroom overlooked the Ionian Sea, and during the day the sun slanted in onto the bed. I could lie there and watch the occasional cloud sift through all of that blue sky. They hung the sheets to dry in the sun. I was thirty years old before I’d ever experienced sun-dried sheets.”

She laughed, a softer, gentler sound that caught him off guard. “There’s nothing else quite like it, is there? Grandma Rumasky and my mother both hang their sheets outside to dry. It’s one of my favorite things about going home.” She sipped from her wineglass and regarded him over the rim. “You paint an alluring picture of Corfu. It makes me want to go there. And, of course, I’d have to eat at your taverna and room at the villa with the sun-dried linens.” Her spontaneous smile stole his breath.

“You’d like it.” Oddly enough, after spending three evenings with her, he thought he had a fair enough idea of what she would and wouldn’t like. The thought flashed through not just his mind but his entire being that he wanted to be there with her. He’d like to stretch out naked on the simple cotton coverlet of that bed warmed by the afternoon sun and make slow, leisurely love to her until they were both sated and drowsy from good food and even better sex.

“It sounds great.”

He started and then realized she was talking about Corfu, not his fantasy. He had a gut feeling it would be great between them. “What about you? Your favorite place?”

“Hands down, Prague. Have you ever been there?”

He shook his head and she continued. “There’s an old-world elegance to it that seems to have been lost in some of the other more well-known European cities. The River Vltava flows through the city. The stone CharlesBridge is lined by Baroque statues and it’s possibly one of the most romantic spots on earth when you take a walk at dusk with the city’s spires as a backdrop. Not only is it beautiful but it probably also appeals to me because it’s not so very far from my roots. My great-grandparents left Russia in 1916, before the Bolsheviks took power.”