Cassie leaned her head back to send him a puzzled frown. “There are hexes around the house as well?”
“Yes.” He climbed the wide steps and skirted around the hot tub. “They’re particularly nasty, so don’t leave the porch unless I’m with you.”
“Wouldn’t it be easier to turn them off?”
He snorted, pulling open the glass door to enter the living room, which was spotlessly clean. The L-shaped room was paneled in a glossy cedar with an open-beamed ceiling and matching wood floors. A huge stone fireplace consumed one wall and at the back of the room was a staircase leading to the open loft above. Traditional leather furnishings were scattered over the handwoven rugs and priceless Turner oil paintings were framed on the walls instead of the usual mounted animal heads.
“I could also send an engraved invitation to every demon hunting you and request them to creep up on us while we sleep, but I’d rather not,” he said, crossing the room to enter the kitchen.
“I don’t think hexes are going to protect us from the vampire, no matter how nasty.”
He set her on a stool next to the breakfast bar and folded his arms over his chest. “No, that’s something we need to discuss.”
She wrinkled her nose, no doubt sensing what he was going to say. “Dinner first.”
“Cassie . . .”
“Or we could shower,” she interrupted, the wicked invitation in her eyes making him hard in an instance. “The last one was fun.”
“Shit.” He turned to yank the frilly apron off the peg near the stove and wrapped it around his waist to cover his thickening erection. “Are all females born knowing how to manipulate men?”
She batted her lashes. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Convenient.”
Her dimples flashed, stealing any ability for him to be annoyed. “I truly am hungry.”
“Fine. Let me check the pantry.” He conceded defeat. Or maybe he was just as reluctant as Cassie to discuss what had to come next, he acknowledged as he entered the large pantry and opened the stand-up freezer. He reached for the nearest box. “Pizza?” he called out.
“Sure.”
He returned to the kitchen, pulling the pizza out of the box. “I’ll get this in the oven, if you’ll set the table.” He slid the pizza on a cooking tray and popped it in the oven. “The plates are in the cabinet over the sink and the cutlery is in the drawer near the fridge.”
He was choosing a bottle of wine from the rack on the marble-top counter when he heard her give a choked laugh. Turning, he discovered she’d pulled open the wrong drawer to reveal the skimpy aprons, maid’s uniforms, and edible panties that his playmates enjoyed.
“Do you keep all you lairs so well stocked?” she asked with an overly innocent smile.
He moved to shove the drawer shut and yanked open another to pull out two forks and the corkscrew. “Some better than others,” he muttered.
She laughed, moving to collect the plates, and placed them on the breakfast bar along with linen napkins. Then, ignoring his warning growl, she moved to peer into the oven.
“Mmmm.” She sucked in a deep breath. “It looks odd but it smells yummy.”
In the process of pouring the wine, Caine glanced toward his companion in surprise. “You’ve never had pizza?”
She smiled, moving to stand in front of him, her hands boldly exploring the bare width of his chest. “There are a lot of things I’ve never tried,” she reminded him, her fingers circling his beaded ni**les.
He choked back a groan, his hands gripping her wrists to halt her bewitching seduction. “Keep that up and we’ll burn down the house. Literally,” he groaned, grimly stepping back to reach for the wineglasses. Christ, this female was going to be the death of him. “Here.”
She took the glass he offered, sniffing it with a frown. “What is it?”
“A very fine Château Margaux,” he explained, sipping the delicate bouquet with the appreciation of a true connoisseur.
Cassie hesitated, watching his obvious enjoyment. Then, taking a reluctant sip, she grimaced as if he’d shoved a lemon down her throat.
“Bleck.”
“Bleck?” He lifted his brows in amusement. “It cost five hundred dollars a bottle.”