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‘Not until it’s ready.’
    Gabe just grinned and opened the fridge. ‘Drink?’
    â€˜Love one. Thanks.’
    He’d showered and changed. His jeans hugged his legs and hips and she couldn’t help admiring the view as he leaned over to retrieve a bottle of wine. His white T-shirt hugged his muscled back and his sun-kissed arms.
    She looked away quickly as he held up the bottle. Dinner could be at risk with Gabe in the room.
    She tried to keep her eyes on the stove as he poured the prosecco, but simmering rice couldn’t compete with red-hot man.
    He handed her a glass.
    â€˜ Salute .’ As he held his glass up for her to clink, he dipped his finger into the sauce again and licked it clean.
    She groaned inwardly. It was Gabe or the dinner. And she wanted to impress, so dinner won.
    â€˜Out,’ she said, flicking his thigh with a tea towel.
    â€˜Hey,’ he said, jumping back. ‘That hurt.’
    She laughed at his wounded face. ‘It did not.’
    â€˜Really?’ He made a grab for the towel.
    She nailed him again, this time on the wrist. He leaped back again.
    â€˜Stop that,’ he said, but he was laughing.
    â€˜Make me,’ she said, twirling her tea towel provocatively. Kitchen games were her speciality. ‘But I warn you, I’m good at this.’
    Gabe’s eyebrows arched at the challenge.
    â€˜Right,’ he said. ‘You asked for it.’ His tone pitched between playfulness and menace.
    Charlie turned and quickly grabbed all the other tea towels. He didn’t have a chance without a weapon.
    â€˜Now what are you going to do?’ she asked triumphantly.
    When she turned to face him, her exultation vanished. She’d missed the towel near the chopping board. He picked it up and waved it threateningly.
    â€˜No,’ she said, edging away. ‘You wouldn’t.’
    He stepped closer, an evil smile on his face as he prepared to attack.
    â€˜Don’t you know, you should never take on the cook?’ she said, stepping to put the island bench between them.
    He kept coming. Evil and gorgeous.
    She narrowed her eyes. No way would she take this lying down. She looked around the kitchen and spied the ultimate weapon. Gabe followed her gaze.
    â€˜No,’ he said, straightening quickly.
    She didn’t answer but slid closer to the carton of eggs.
    â€˜Truce?’ he said, matching her slow steps towards the potential arsenal.
    â€˜Forget it,’ she said, grabbing for the carton. Gabe flicked her hand aside. He snatched up an egg and held it high over her head. She braced for an avalanche of eggshell and goo.
    â€˜Okay. Okay. Truce,’ she said, holding her hand above her head and backing away. ‘Come on, dinner’ll be wrecked.’
    He shook the egg ominously in front of her face.
    â€˜On one condition,’ he said, cheekily.
    â€˜What?’ she asked standing rigid in defeat while looking around wildly for something with which to defend herself.
    â€˜You say, “Gabe’s the best.”’
    She snorted. ‘What are you, twelve?’
    He laughed, obviously agreeing with the absurdity of his request. ‘So the kids have rubbed off on me.’ He cocked his head. ‘But you’re not getting out of it. So come on.’ He took a step closer. ‘Gabe’s the best.’
    â€˜Gabe’s the—’ She grabbed a carton of cream to use as a shield, then had a better idea.
    The long white stream flew through the air. It splattered all over his chest with a large splash down his cheek.
    The look on his face! She collapsed with laughter.
    â€˜That’s it. You’ve had it,’ he said.
    â€˜No,’ she screamed and rushed to put the kitchen bench between them again.
    She didn’t make it.
    Gabe caught her at the waist, turned her and wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her close so her breasts crushed against his chest.
    A luscious heat cascaded