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“Would you join me in the kitchen?” he asked. She nodded and followed him down the stairs. While he tried to think of some way to start a conversation that didn’t sound odd or contrived, he missed the fact that she came to a stop at the arched entrance to the large kitchen area.

He didn’t realize she wasn’t right behind him until he got to the fridge and turned to ask what she liked to drink. She was standing with her eyes wide and mouth open, taking in every detail of the shiny, rarely used room.

“You have a set of Miele ovens. And a separate convection stovetop!” she pointed to something else with a little gasp. “Is that a proving drawer?”

“Maybe?” The kitchen had been newly renovated when he and Carter bought the house. He’d focused on the second and third floor but hadn’t bothered to change anything about the first floor. He didn’t eat, and Carter didn’t cook. The only things they used in the kitchen were the refrigerator and microwave.

Mila rushed into the kitchen and started touching things. She was talking about the high quality of the appliances or where she would put things if this was her kitchen. She was enamored by the lighting and the massive island in the center of space.

Gio winced when he noticed the dust she was disturbing in a few spots. As soon as she was settled in for the night, he’d come down here and give the room a thorough cleaning.

“You like kitchens?” he asked.

“Are you kidding?” Mila asked, turning to face him. “This isn’t a kitchen, it’s a work of art!”

“What do you like to cook?” he asked, opening the fridge, then quickly closing it when he realized the blood bags were right out in the open on the middle shelf.

“I’m a pastry chef,” she said with obvious pride.

“That’s excellent because Carter loves to eat and has a sweet tooth,” Gio said. “Where do you work?”

Wherever it was, she wouldn’t be working there long. She could keep baking, but it would be for fun, not to make a living. Her time belonged to them, not some faceless employer.

Her smile flattened at his question. “I’m not working at the moment. But Rissa said Harper might have a job for me as a waitress.”

He hated the way her light dimmed. “I need you!” he blurted.

“W-what?” she stuttered, her eyes going wide.

“I mean, I need a chef,” he explained. “You don’t need to take a job as a waitress when I’ve been looking for a personal chef for, um, months.”

She looked doubtful. “You have? You want to hire someone to cook full time for you? That seems expensive."

This was easier to answer. “Carter eats a lot and neither of us can cook. Sometimes he can’t even manage a microwave burrito. You should see our takeout bills!” His exaggerated shudder made her chuckle. “I promise, hiring you would be cheaper.”

“But you don’t even know if I can cook.” she protested.

“That’s a good point,” he agreed, thinking fast. “Why don’t we give you a two-week trial period? After that, you can reassess.”

She looked interested, but also hesitant. “I'm not sure that’s a good idea. What happened up in the bedroom…” her words trailed off to imply their earlier intimacy, her face turning bright red. “I don’t want to lose a job and um, lovers at the same time.”

He loved the way she blushed. Would she turn the same shade of red when she came screaming?

“We aren’t lovers yet,” he countered, and swaggered a step closer, putting his body close to her. She looked up at him with wide eyes, but didn’t back away. “A few touches and a brief kiss aren’t even the title page in the book of passion we could write together.”

“Title page?” she whispered and swayed toward him a little. “Book of passion? That should sound lame, but it doesn't.”

“It’s my voice,” Gio said, exaggerating the Italian accent he’d worked hard to hide as a young man newly arrived in America. “I can make anything sound good. Later I’ll recite the ingredients to Carter’s favorite energy drink.”

“How can you be so charming and sexy at the same time?”

“Practice,” he answered succinctly. “I promise you’ll never lose us as lovers. The job is on your terms, but Carter and I are an absolute certainty.”

She shook her head. “You can’t speak for Carter.”

Gio held his hand out. “In this matter, I can. Tell me you agree to give us two weeks. After that, we can see if you still want to keep the job as personal chef.”

“But keep you as lovers no matter what?” she asked with a little laugh, sliding her hand into his.