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with her.
    She watched him whisk the egg whites while the sugar syrup was cooking; then he poured the sugar syrup down the side of the bowl containing the whisked egg whites, whisking them again until the mixture was smooth and glossy. All the while his hands were sure and deft. And she had to stop herself wondering just how those hands would be if they touched her. Would he find out where and how she liked being touched, on pure instinct? Even the thought made her dizzy.
    “Rachel?”
    Oh, no. Please don’t let him have caught her ogling him. Or, if he had, please let the earth open and swallow her right now. “Sorry. Busy day at work,” she fibbed. He wasn’t to know if she’d been on duty or not. “I didn’t mean to zone out on you. Watching you is amazing,” she said. “I could imagine you teaching students or even in a studio as a TV chef, showing the nation how to cook a spectacular dessert.”
    “I probably don’t have the patience to teach,” he said, “and TV’s a little too disconnected for me. I like to talk to my customers about their food and whether they’re enjoying what I made them, or what I could do differently in future to make it better for them.”
    She could understand that; but she still wondered why he wasn’t using his skills here in Marietta. “Don’t get me wrong – I love the food at Grey’s. But their menu is very simple and what you’re cooking for me is pretty special. Why aren’t you working at the Graff or somewhere you’d get to make food like this every single day?”
    “I have my reasons,” he said lightly. He wasn’t exactly rude, but Rachel was very aware that Ryan had just closed off from her. Another subject off limits, then, she thought with an inward sigh. How long would it be before they were reduced to talking about the weather?
    He tipped the glossy meringue onto the almond mixture, and folded it in with a spatula before spooning the mixture into a piping bag.
    “I can’t believe how fast you are,” she said, watching him pipe circles onto baking paper. “And those circles are all perfect.”
    “It comes with practice. My first ones were all over the place.” He seemed warmer again, now he was talking about food and not his workplace. Clearly this was his passion.
    Passion .
    Heat rose up her spine and she did her best to damp it down. This was so not appropriate. Even if he was the most attractive man she’d met in a long time, nothing was going to happen between them. She really needed to get a grip.
    “I’m going to leave these for about half an hour to form a skin,” he said, “and meanwhile I’m making the ganache.”
    She watched him chop dark chocolate at amazing speed while he brought cream to boil in a small pan, then poured the cream over the chocolate. His hands were so deft, so sure. Again, she thought about they’d feel against her skin, and then she became aware that he was talking to her.
    “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” she said, and felt a guilty blush steal through her face.
    “I said, when I’ve finished beating the butter into the ganache, would you like a taste?”
    Her gaze met his and awareness slammed through her. She reminded herself sharply that he was talking about the chocolate filling, not his mouth. “Yes, please.” She was horribly conscious of the fact that her voice sounded husky and hoped he couldn’t guess why.
    She watched his hands moving swiftly over the bowl as he finished the last stage of making the ganache.
    Then he took a teaspoon, dipped it into the mixture and held it out to her – bowl-first rather than stem-first, so it was clear that he intended to feed her a taste.
    This felt very, very intimate; and in turn that made her feel oddly shy. Even with Nick she’d never done anything like this.
    She took a deep breath to calm herself, leaned forward and licked the spoon.
    “Oh, my God. That could rival Sage’s best chocolates,” she whispered, feeling her eyes widen.
    He gave