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sitting at Carla’s kitchen table.
    “Aurora?” The chef’s surprise and embarrassment were evident in
his voice. He and Jake had just spent an hour playing racquetball. It was a
twice-weekly routine they had started in college and resumed when Marcus came
on staff in the spring. Only Jake saw the look of panic.
    “Hey,
Rori!” Jake said as he hugged his
wife and planted a wet kiss on her cheek.
    “ Ew , you’re sweaty and
stinky!” Carla laughed and dodged a second attempt for a kiss from her husband.
    “I know, I know,” Jake
tweaked Zoe’s nose after releasing his wife, “but you’ll have to wait . I promised Marcus he could change here since you
were preparing your famous gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches. I tried to lie to
him and say we wouldn’t have enough for his wolf-like appetite.” What Rori did
not know was this was a pure spur of the moment fabrication. Marcus threw him a
look of gratitude as he headed for the master bedroom to clean up and change
clothes.
    Jake spent the few minutes
it took his friend to change admiring his daughter’s masterpiece . And Rori’s, of course.
    “Zoe drew me and I drew
her,” Rori explained.
    “Ah, that helps,” Jake
nodded. “I could tell this was you,” he said to Rori as he pointed to Zoe’s
childlike depiction, “but I’m glad you told me yours was supposed to be Zoe.”
    “Daddy, that is not nice,” Zoe reprimanded her father.
“Aunt Wa-ree tried her very best. And she likes to
draw, which is the most important thing. Right?” Her
last question was directed at her art teacher.
    “Yes, Zoe,” Rori loved the
interplay with this sweet girl . “You are
absolutely right. Art is about enjoying yourself .”
    “A lot like cooking,” a
familiar voice came from the hallway.
    How long had he been
standing there ? And couldn’t he try a
little harder to be less handsome? Rori’s thoughts raced.
    “My turn to get all
prettified,” Jake declared as he pushed away from the kitchen table. He threw Marcus a loaded
look and decided to push some buttons. 
    “Marcus, Zoe and Rori just drew lovely
pictures of each other,” he said, adding mischievously, “maybe they could draw
you next.” Marcus threw him an ‘I’m going to get you for this’ look.
    “No,” Rori said at the same
time Zoe exclaimed, “Yes! Yes! I want to draw Uncle Marcus!”
    “I need to get back to the
studio,” Rori pleaded.
    “Not before you eat!” Carla
insisted.
    “Scared?” Marcus said
quietly as he leaned over to admire her portrait of Zoe. He couldn’t seem to
resist inciting her. It was patently obvious she did not wish to be in the same
room with him.
    “Of you?” The words were out of her mouth before she thought.
    “Are you?” he retorted.
    “No,” she came back.
    “Prove it.” He sat on the
stool at the kitchen counter and folded his arms, striking a pose ready for his
portrait.
    “Fine,” Rori conceded,
unable to keep a touch of annoyance from her voice. “Let’s draw Uncle Marcus,
Zoe. Do you want to use the crayons or should I?” She couldn’t resist the
comment, letting him know she thought he was being childish.
    “Me,” Zoe volunteered. “I
like all the colors.”
    Rori was determined to get
the torture over with quickly. She sketched Marcus, arms folded, holding a
curved knife in one hand and a cooking whisk in the other. She grinned at the
image. She added a plaid sash across his muscular chest, trying to ignore the
broad shoulders, chiseled features, and gorgeous auburn hair.
    “Do you have a specific clan
tartan for your family?” Her question
surprised him. Not everyone knew of the Scottish heritage of plaids. “I can
borrow Zoe’s crayons to make this more authentic.”
    “Blue and green, mainly,”
Marcus replied succinctly, squirming under the intense attention from Rori.
    “Zoe, may I borrow your
crayons? Just blue and green, please.” Rori picked out
the necessary colors after the little girl nodded. Minutes later, she