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on the table.
    “Mother of crap, this is amazing. Are you feeding an army?” She marvelled. She looked at her watch, and saw that showering and dressing had taken an hour. How the hell did he cook so fast?
    “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I thought I’d be safe and go with a bit of everything,” he answered, acting as if this was the most obvious course of action. Addison was struck by his thoughtfulness.
    “Thank you, but you should know I eat pretty much anything that Kitty hasn’t been near,” Addison said seriously. Archer’s lips twitched, though she had hoped he might smile or laugh. What will it take to make this strong man smile?
    “Well, that’s reassuring. Why don’t you take a seat? Would you like wine, water, soda, or something else?” he asked, standing up from his seat.
    “Water would be wonderful, thank you.”
    He retrieved a large jug of water and poured two glasses. Addison wasted no time and began serving herself a generous portion. She took a bite.
    “Oh, wow, this is amazing!” she gushed. “How the hell did you learn to cook like this?”
    “Just something I learnt over the years,” he replied enigmatically. “I’ve been cooking for a long time.”
    “Ah, yes. You are, what, twenty-five?” she asked somewhat sarcastically.
    His mouth quirked before he said, “Give or take.”
    A comfortable silence settled in during which Addison ate heartily. She hadn’t had a home-cooked meal since she moved out of her parent’s house, and to say she missed it was an understatement. After eating her second helping she looked up to find Archer staring at her with a rapt expression on his face.
    Immediately self-conscious, Addison grabbed the napkin and wiped her mouth. “What?”
    “Hmm, I love a woman who can eat,” he said, eyes glowing.
    “Gosh, then you’ll be in love with me in no time,” she replied without thinking. Her words elicited a frown, and Archer’s lips tightened.
    “So, tell me about yourself, Addison,” Archer said briskly.
    “First, call me Addy. And ask away,” Addison said, confused about his change of tone.
    “Where did you grow up?” Archer asked.
    “I was born in India, which is where my mother is from. My dad is Irish, and he met her when he was doing missionary work there. They got married, had me, and moved here when I was six,” Addison told him. Encouraged by his unwavering eye contact, she continued. “Dad is a paramedic, and Mum teaches history to high school kids. I’m an only child, so I tend to enjoy solitude. I’m studying law, and you already know that I bartend on weekends. That’s about it.”
    ***
    Heavens, she’s beautiful, Archer thought. Seated across from him, Addison was a vision. What could Malachi want with her? Her long hair was almost black when wet and curled delicately around her ears and face. He had to clench his hands together to stop himself from tucking a strand behind her ears. She had a slight lilt in her voice that he hadn’t noticed before but now credited to her background. It was beautiful and soothing; Archer could imagine such a voice crying out in passion. 
    A light breeze blew through the open window, and Archer’s admiration turned heated when her nipples tightened against her thin shirt. She wasn’t wearing a bra. His desire must have shown on his face, because she looked down and let out a soft squeal before folding her arms over her breasts.
    Archer took a sip of water to hide the smile that threatened to erupt across his face at her reaction and distract himself from the view of her taut buds.
    Clearly to change the subject, and hide her embarrassment, Addison asked him, “What is that language you and Jake speak? It’s beautiful, but I can’t pin it.”
    Shoot .
    “It’s our father’s language; we learnt it when we were young. It’s not particularly widely spoken anymore, but our father was a traditionalist,” he said, trying to import as little bitterness as possible into his