make after these?” Grace asked.
“Chocolate chip.”
“Oh, I love chocolate chip. How about we do double chocolate?” she asked.
James nodded.
Grace grabbed the two baking trays and placed them in the oven, spinning to James. “Quickly, set the timer. We need seven minutes, then we spin them around for another five.”
“Seven,” James said.
“You’re such a natural. You could be a real chef.”
James giggled. “My mommy loved books.”
Caleb paused. James hadn’t spoken about his mother to him.
“She did? Well, I love books as well. I’m always reading. It’s so much fun.”
“I miss my mommy,” he said.
Grace went to him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. “I bet she misses you too.”
Caleb couldn’t allow this to happen. He stepped into the kitchen. “I hear you’re needing a new sous chef,” he said, removing his jacket.
Grace’s eyes went wide as he began to roll up his sleeves.
“Uncle Caleb, can I draw on your arms?” James asked.
He chuckled. “Not tonight, buddy. We’ve got some cooking to do. I happen to love chocolate.” He slapped his hands together. “Where do you want me, Chef?”
Her gaze was on his ink and he smirked. So she wasn’t as immune to him as she liked to think.
She suddenly snapped out of it. “Right, yes, baking and cooking. Of course. So, we’ve got lots to do. Let me see how many chocolate chips we’ve got.” She turned on her heel and left the room, heading into the pantry.
James was smooshing flour around the counter.
“I’ll go and help her, champ,” he said.
He didn’t wait for James’s response. Heading into the pantry, he watched her as she stared at one of the shelves, clearly a little distressed.
“I believe these are what you’re wanting,” he said, reaching across her and grabbing the right bag of chocolate chips.
“Yes, right, right.” She grabbed the milk chocolate as he did the dark.
“You know, I love chocolate as well.”
“Me too.” She turned to him with a smile.
“Yeah, but what I’d like is drizzle it on you and lick it right off with my tongue.” He left the pantry, putting the chocolate chips onto the counter, smiling. “Got the chips, buddy.”
“Grace, what do we do?” James asked.
She came out of the pantry, red-faced but with a smile. “Well, we’re going to start by creaming butter and sugar together. Can you do that?”
The timer went off as James nodded his head. He watched Grace, laughing as her hand seemed to shake.
The cookies smelled really good.
“Uncle Caleb, you’re smiling,” James said with a whisper.
He moved toward his nephew’s side. “Can you keep a secret?”
James nodded.
“I really like your nanny.”
He giggled.
“Do you think she’d like me?” Caleb asked.
James looked at Grace and cupped his mouth near Caleb’s ear. “She likes everyone.”
For his own sake and sanity, he sure hoped so.
Chapter Three
Grace couldn’t deny there was more to Caleb than met the eye. She sat in the library, the glow of the lamp giving her enough light to glance through the cookbook she had in her lap. Rubbing at her temples, she sighed. It was late, and she didn’t know why she didn’t just go to bed.
She was tired, but sleep seemed to be evading her.
The cookies had been a huge success yesterday, and now James wanted to be in the kitchen every single day. She didn’t mind. Thanksgiving was coming up, and she wanted to ask Caleb if she’d be able to plan a feast for his men and well, for them.
She’d tried to call the new chef, but he wanted nothing to do with her. The kitchen was out of bounds while she was there.
“I figured you’d have gone to bed by now,” Caleb said, entering the library.
“Yeah, well, I wanted to ask you something.”
“You can order whatever you like. I won’t have all my men at the table, but you, me, and James can have a small dinner.”
“Oh, how did you know?”
“I know everything, Grace. This is my house.” He poured himself a shot and turned toward her, offering her some.
She shook her head. “I don’t drink.”
“You don’t drink, nor do you party, or fuck random men. What do you do for fun?”
She glared at him. “There are plenty of ways to have fun. You don’t have to be drunk to have a good time.”
“In my experience, the best kind of time always holds a little alcohol.” He swallowed it down in one gulp.
“Is that because it lowers your inhibitions?” she asked.
“Not me. I’m always in control.”
“Must be nice.” She stared down at the book even though she’d lost all