Page 7

I’m practically vibrating with energy. I dart from station to station, watching as his staff serve up more beautiful creations. However, the orders soon slow. Eventually the movement and clamor is directed to cleaning. Staff wipe down surfaces and stack clean pans. I turn to look for Noah only to find that he’s disappeared.

I wonder if I should go back to my table. I don’t want to be in the way. Maybe he got busy and forgot about me.

Then the door to the large walk-in fridge opens and he steps out, holding something beneath a silver cloche.

“Just heading home, chef,” the red-haired man calls.

“Righto, Billy. See you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

“See you Sunday, chef.”

“Night, Sally.”

“Night.”

The door swings shut and silence falls over the kitchen for the first time since I stepped into it. And I realize we’re alone.

That shouldn’t be sending a little tickle of excitement up my spine. It certainly shouldn’t make me want to touch my cheeks to check if my blush has returned.

Noah sets the dish down and slowly lifts the cloche.

Seven neat squares of fluffy sponge cake are arranged on a plate as if they’ve fallen into a stack like toys out of a toybox. Around the outside there are tiny dishes with sauces and toppings. I see chocolate and coconut as well as a fruit compote, a dish with a creamy liqueur and some kind of white sauce that could be white chocolate.

“What is it?”

“Deconstructed lamington. It’s still something I’m playing with, but the idea is you customize it by dipping the cake intowhatever sauce and topping you like, to vary the flavor and texture.”

I nod. “I’ve heard about lamington. I haven’t had one, though. It’s chocolate icing with coconut right?”

Noah smiles. “Allow me?” He takes a little metal skewer and spears a square of cake, then dips it into the liqueur, the melted chocolate, and finally the coconut. Twisting it dexterously, he lifts it to my mouth.

“Oh!” I open and he feeds the morsel to me. I don’t stop to think about how sensual this is until I close my lips around the mouthful and he slowly draws the skewer out, brushing it against my lower lip in a caress. I can’t help the little shudder that runs through me at the way his gaze is fixed on my mouth. Then the flavors hit me and I forget everything for a second. The rich, warm chocolate and subtle coconut are underpinned by the dizzying hint of alcohol. “Wow.”

He grins. “Good?”

“Amazing for something so simple. I didn’t think lamingtons had alcohol, though.”

“Nah, but everything’s better with booze, right?”

He takes a new skewer and a new piece of cake. This time he gives me a completely different combination: the creamy sauce, the fruit compote. A twist of his wrist, and he lifts it to my mouth again before I can take it from him.

I moan around this bite. The first was delicious, but these flavors are some of my favorites. White chocolate, the tart fruit, the nutty cake. Perfection. The cake is so soft it practically melts in my mouth, and I need more immediately.

“You’re making me jealous,” Noah laughs. “You might have to share.”

Taking his cue, I pick my own skewer and stab a piece of cake, giggling when it falls off almost instantly and I have to stab it again, this time quite aggressively.

Noah whistles. “Geez. Got some anger issues you wanna talk about?”

Now I’m really laughing. Imagining the cake is Justin’s face sounds like a pretty good idea right about now. Makes me want to turn one into a pin cushion with the skewers.

“What do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

I dip the cake into the liqueur first. I loved the way the light, teasing flavor lingered on my tongue after the first mouthful. Then into the white chocolate and the coconut. I should probably just hand it to him, but Noah opens his mouth, and I lift the skewer, noticing far more than I should when his tongue curls around the cake and licks a stray droplet off his lip.