I’ll probably always want you, but—”
Ciara placed her fingers over Brandt’s mouth. “We’ll talk about this later. Have you forgotten we have guests waiting for us?”
He caught her wrist, kissing her fingers. “You won’t let me forget?”
“Sure,” she drawled.
Brandt brushed his mouth over hers. “Love you, babe.”
Ciara winked at him. “Love you, too.”
Chapter 14
Ciara removed the lids to the chafing dishes. Mouth-watering aromas wafted in the warm summer air. The setting sun lit the rooftop aflame with an orange glow that made light-colored surfaces appear as if they were on fire.
“Do you mind if I pour the wine?” Aziza called out.
“No!” Brandt and Ciara chorused.
Jordan sniffed the air. “I smell baked beans.”
Ciara turned and smiled at him. “Give that man a cigar.”
“Damn, brother,” Alex drawled, “you have a helluva nose.”
Brandt beckoned to those sitting at the table. “Grab your plates and come serve yourself.”
Ciara hadn’t permitted him on the rooftop until after she’d set up the table with a white tablecloth, then added a colorful runner. The far end of the table was covered with flower petals and tea lights. Each place setting held wine and water glasses, cloth napkins and small bowls of water with lemon slices. He’d helped her load the serving cart and set up the chafing dishes on a buffet server.
Ciara didn’t treat him like an invalid, and for that he was grateful. He had to be mentally prepared for the time when he was medically cleared to begin walking.
He glanced up to find her leaning over his chair. “Sit down and I’ll bring you a plate. Go, Ciara,” he whispered in her ear. “You’ve been on your feet all day cooking, so it’s time for you to relax.”
“I don’t want anyone to think I’m not taking care of my patient.”
He took her hand, dropping a kiss on the knuckles. “Remember, I’m your date, not your patient.”
Ciara ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, bringing Brandt’s gaze to linger there. She knew they were playing a game—one in which both would come up winners. “If I forget, then you’ll have to remind me.” She walked away with just enough sway in her hips to remind Brandt of what she’d been hiding under her smocks.
Brandt removed the cork from a bottle of merlot, allowing it to breathe before he filled his teammate’s glass. He was surprised Alex had requested wine—he usually drank beer. “I do have beer downstairs.”
Alex shook his head. “The wine’s good. In fact, the food is off the hook. Did you use a different caterer?” Brandt usually hosted a catered New Year’s Eve party every other year.
Brandt exchanged a surreptitious look with Ciara. “Tonight’s dinner wasn’t catered.”
Jordan set down his water goblet. “Don’t tell me you cooked?” He knew Brandt was an avid fan of cooking shows.
“No. Ciara did.”
For the second time that night Ciara found herself in the spotlight, the focus of attention. Cradling the balloon wineglass, she took a deep swallow of the dry red wine. Would it always be that way because of her association with Brandt Wainwright? When she dated Victor he’d always been the center of attention. But it had become the opposite with Brandt.
Aziza touched the napkin to her mouth after she’d swallowed a mouthful of potato salad. “Who taught you to cook like this?”
“My mother.”
“Is your mama married?” Alex quipped.
Ciara laughed when she saw the wistful expression on his handsome face. “As a matter of fact, she isn’t. But that’s not going to help you because my mother’s not a cougar. She prefers men in her own age range.”
“Do you have a sister?”
“Alexander!” Aziza admonished.
“Aziza!” he mocked. “I’m not looking to get married. All I want is to find a woman who can do more than make reservations. I’m a very simple guy with very simple needs. Tell them, Brandt. Am I complicated?”
All eyes were trained on Brandt. “Do you really want me to lie to these good people?”
The stunned expression on Alex’s face was priceless. “I always thought you were my boy and had my back.”
“I am your boy, but you’re not simple nor is your lifestyle, so don’t expect to attract a simple woman.”
Alexander turned to his brother-in-law. “Help me out here, Jordan.”
“I’d love to, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t be impartial. Ciara doesn’t know you. Give her your best-case scenario.”
The young athlete shook his head. “I’m afraid to ask my sister. She’ll be forced to recuse herself because she, too, can’t be impartial.”
Aziza gave her brother a pointed look. “If I were