“You went to all this trouble. I figured you’d toss a couple steaks under the broiler, or dump a jar of Ragú in a pot and call it your own. But this is cooking. Considerable time and trouble. I’m wowed. And look at the pretty table you made.”
She wandered into the dining room to walk around it. “You’re just a man of levels, aren’t you?”
“Why didn’t I think of the Ragú?” He picked up the bottle of wine he’d opened. “I got white because of the chicken, but I didn’t know what kind you liked. This is supposed to be good.”
“Supposed?”
“I don’t know a lot about wine. I looked it up.”
She took the glass he offered, sampled, watching him all the while. “Your research paid off.”
“Mackensie.” He leaned down, brushed his lips lightly over hers. “There. I feel better.”
“Than?”
“Probably every man within a twenty-mile radius because they can’t kiss you in the kitchen.”
“You’re dazzling me, Carter.”
“That was part of the plan. I just have to put a few things together. You should sit down.”
“I could help.”
“I have a system—I hope. If you’re in the system, it changes the, well, system. I did a draft Tuesday night, so I think I have it down.”
“A draft?”
He asked himself why he’d babbled that one out as he adjusted the heat under the skillet. “Ah, well, I wasn’t sure how it might turn out, and there’s the whole getting everything done at the right time. So, I did a draft of the meal.”
“You had a dinner rehearsal?”
“More or less. Bob’s wife had her book club meeting, so he came by. I cooked. We ate. So, you should be safe. How did your studying go?”
“My studying?”
“For the presentation on Monday.”
“I am so ready. Which is good because starting tomorrow we’re booked back-to-back. We had a roundup this morning, two rehearsals this afternoon. The second of which was full of pitfalls as the maid of honor and best man, who are recent exes since his affair with his business partner came to light, aren’t speaking.”
“How do you handle that?”
“Like you would a handful of sweating dynamite. The wedding biz isn’t for sissies.”
“I can see that.”
“And come Monday, we’ll be putting on a show for Mrs. Seaman Furniture that’ll make her stand up and cheer.”
“Seaman Furniture’s the potential client?”
“Technically Seaman Furniture’s daughter, but the mother’s paying the freight.”
“We’ll be eating on a table and sitting in chairs I bought there. I’d say that counts as good luck.”
They sat in the lucky chairs at the lucky table with candlelight and wine and music. She was, Mac realized, being thoroughly and unashamedly romanced.
And she liked it.
“You know, Carter, this is so good I’ve stopped feeling guilty about the fact you’ve eaten this exact meal twice this week.”
“You could consider it upscale leftovers. Leftovers are a major part of the menu around here, usually.” He glanced over at the cat who sat beside his chair, staring up with unblinking yellow eyes.
“I guess your pal’s waiting for his.”
“He’s not used to seeing me eat at the table. It’s usually counter food, so I guess he’s confused. Do you want me to put him out?”
“No. I like cats. In fact, I’ve been married to cats several times.”
“I didn’t know that. I take it things didn’t work out.”
“That depends on your point of view. I have very fond memories of those marriages, however fleeting. When we were kids, the four of us used to play Wedding Day. A lot.” She laughed over her wine. “I guess we began as we meant to go on, even if we didn’t know it. We had costumes and props, each took different roles. We married each other, pets, Del if Parker could blackmail him into it.”
“The photograph in your studio. With the butterfly.”
“The camera was a gift from my father that was probably age inappropriate. My grandmother used the gift to bitch about him. Again. A hot summer day when I wanted to go swimming instead of playing the game. Parker placating my mood by declaring me official wedding photographer instead of the MOH.”
“Sorry?”
“MOH. Maid of honor. I didn’t want to put on the dress, so Parker deemed me official wedding photographer.”
“Portentous.”
“I guess so. Add the serendipitous flight of that butterfly and elements coalesced into a personal epiphany. I realized not only that I could preserve a memory, a moment, an image, but I wanted to.”
She ate another bite of chicken. “I bet you made Sherry