Page 58 of Royal Icing

“How are you?” Leo asked.

“I’m fine. Dr. Hastings looked me over and gave me the all clear—and a very stern lecture about running out onto frozen lakes. As if I hadn’t already figured out the dangers for myself.”

He nodded and seemed unsurprised. “Good. Here.” He pulled a new phone out of his pocket and handed it to her.

“What’s this?”

“A spare. Until yours resurrects.” He glanced over her shoulder at the bowl of rice her phone was currently submerged in.

She bit her lip. Was he doing this out of obligation? “You didn’t have to do that. I’ll repay you.”

“No, you won’t. Again, you saved my life.”

“And you saved mine,” she said.

He tilted his head. “You’re right. This is weird.”

Emma tapped a finger on her chin. “I’ve never been in this situation before. Do the double life-savings just kind of cancel each other out?”

He laughed. “Maybe they do. I guess you won’t want these blueprints, then,” he said, pulling out a long paper tube.

She gasped. “Gimme,” she ordered.

Once the plans were spread over the small dining room table, they bent over, shoulder-to-shoulder, to consult them together.

Her eyes were on the blueprints, but her mind kept honing in on Leo’s warm presence. He smelled so good, like the outdoors and a spice she couldn’t name. Something fluttered in her nether regions. She had hoped the next time she saw him she would be calm, put-together, and not falling into mortal peril. Stressedout, bedraggled, and buried waist-deep in recipes would have to do.

Not that there was anything going on here. Emma needed to stay away from him to keep her job. Besides, one kiss in a shack during a snowstorm didn’t mean anything. Emotions were high. She had just almost died, and her brain wasn’t working. If it had been, she certainly wouldn’t have let him kiss her.

Would she? Shut up, brain.

“What do you think?” he asked as she leafed through the diagrams. He planted a hand on the table and leaned to look with her.

His sleeves were rolled up, exposing a very distracting set of forearms.Focus, idiot.

She blew out a long breath. “This is going to be a ton of work, and I only have a few days. It doesn’t help that your mother will only let me in the kitchen after it’s closed from dinner service.”

Leo’s gaze landed on her oven. “How much can you do in here during the day?”

Emma shrugged. “Some, but this oven is too small to bake the gingerbread pieces. Why is everything so small here? Your fridges are like half the size of an American fridge. What if you need to store more than four ingredients at the same time?”

“How can I help?” he asked. He reached over and brushed a hair away from her forehead.

Her skin tingled with goosebumps. She bit her lip.

“I don’t think you should,” she said.

He pulled back, looking surprised.

She reached over and laid a hand on his chest. Her heart danced. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d love to have your help. But I’m pretty sure your mom hates me. I know there’s nothing going on between us, but I can’t risk her firing me because she can’t handle her son consorting with an American. Or a poor nobody.Whatever she hates me for the most. I really need the rest of this trip to go well. So maybe we shouldn’t…see each other anymore.”

She lowered her gaze, unwilling to look him in the eye. The idea of not seeing him again smarted worse than a molten sugar burn. She would have to bury herself in work and try to forget about that kiss in the workshop.

“What if we met in secret?” Leo asked softly.

Secret?

Her heart thudded in her ears. She slowly lifted her gaze to meet his. There was an intensity in his eyes.