Teddy Spenser Isn't Looking for Love - Kim Fielding Page 0,59

three shells that way, but that left nine—enough for three people. Overly browned parts remained, but the filling would hide most of them. He slid the cookie sheet into the fridge so the shells could cool.

“This isn’t working,” Romeo lamented. “Dough’s too stiff.”

“You got it sort of flat, though. I don’t think the overall shape matters. I’ve had restaurant flatbread that was irregular.” Teddy tried to inject a cheery note into his voice. “It looks handmade this way. That’s creative.”

Romeo’s scowl said he wasn’t convinced. But he spread olive oil on the thing anyway, and distributed the topping over that. Then he increased the oven temperature. “We have thirty minutes,” he pointed out. “What’s left?”

“Bake the bread, fill the tartlets, boil and sauce the pasta.” That sounded doable.

“Are we supposed to set the table too?”

“I don’t think so. They probably want to eat in the dining room.” It was too bad. Making an attractive table setting was something Teddy had confidence he could do well. But Joyce hadn’t shown them the dining room. The only parts of her house they’d really seen were the room where they first chatted, the kitchen, and the powder room just off the kitchen. Presumably the dining room was nearby, but Teddy didn’t feel comfortable exploring on his own.

“I guess we could finish washing up now, while the oven heats.”

“Good idea.”

The plan was for Romeo to wash and Teddy to dry and put away. A good plan, except it meant they were standing close together again, and this time when Teddy angled upward for a kiss, Romeo didn’t step away. He set a half-scrubbed bowl in the sink and reached for Teddy, getting Teddy’s shirt wet and soapy. Teddy knew they were being terribly unprofessional, and he didn’t care. He also didn’t care that Joyce could walk in on them any second. Worldly cares dropped away with Romeo in his arms.

Romeo nuzzled Teddy’s neck, making him shiver, and cradled Teddy’s face in his big palms, tracing a damp thumb along Teddy’s cheek.

“How have you done this to me?” Teddy asked, leaning hopelessly into the touch.

“Done what?”

“A few days ago I thought I hated you. And now—”

“Hated?” Romeo arched an eyebrow. “I don’t think you knew me well enough to hate me.”

“I didn’t know you at all. My loss.”

“Mine too.” Romeo gave his cheek another stroke. Teddy never would have thought such a simple bit of contact—and so far above the belt—could be so erotic. But oh God, it truly was. His eyes rolled back in his head and an embarrassing moan escaped him.

Chuckling, Romeo let him go. “I think we’d better finish prepping dinner.”

He was right, of course, but Teddy grumbled nonetheless as he finished drying. When Romeo slid the flatbread into the oven, he bent rather more than he had to, and that ass waggle was definitely gratuitous.

“I should have dressed you in Spandex, like a member of an eighties hair band.” Teddy sighed.

“Would that have been appropriate?”

“Absolutely not. But it would have been magnificent.”

Romeo laughed. But when he closed the oven and turned to face Teddy, his expression was earnest. “Do you know something amazing about you?”

“Um...no.”

“I can be completely myself in front of you. I don’t have to pretend I’m someone else or worry you’re going to think I’m weird. I’ve only ever felt this way around family before.”

A lot of things had happened during the past several days, but Romeo’s words shook Teddy more than everything else combined. He had to grab the counter for support, and for once in his life, he couldn’t say a word, although he might have squeaked a little. He liked Romeo just as he was, and weird was a compliment as far as Teddy was concerned. Who wanted normal? But since he couldn’t manage to say any of this out loud at the moment, he simply stood and basked in the rare sensation of being...special.

Then his phone dinged, reminding him that their time was almost up.

Working swiftly, Teddy filled the tartlets. Romeo checked the big pot of salted water, nearly at a boil, and removed the flatbread from the oven. “I don’t know about this,” he said.

“Does it look awful?”

“Hard to tell. It seems really...solid.”

“At least you didn’t burn it.”

It was almost six o’clock, and Teddy had just lowered the pasta into the pot when Joyce swept into the room wearing one of her vintage maxi dresses. Pastel pink with lace on the bodice and skirt, it should have looked much too young for her,