But that was just it. Jason had never been stupid about her feelings before. He wasn’t deliberately trying to hurt her, was he?

No. She pushed that thought away as quickly as it had come. She was being ridiculous. Reading too much into every word. Every look. Every touch.

“It’s made me happy, today,” he said, “watching you eat without picking at your food. I hate to think of you dieting, Emma. You don’t need to.”

“Yeah right. I dare you to say that after I’ve gained twenty pounds from all this rich food.”

His face utterly sincere, he said, “You’d look fantastic. I mean, you’re beautiful now just as you are, but I can see you with curves, lush curves.”

Yet again, he was making her feel like the most attractive woman in the world, and, at the same time, giving her permission to enjoy her life. To eat like a normal person. Both were gifts that he, and he alone, had given to her.

Truth be told, she’d never given herself permission to eat, drink, and be merry. She’d always been too afraid of the consequences. Too afraid of her mother’s nagging. Of failing.

“Please teach me to cook,” she said again, suddenly certain that her issues with food were another roadblock she needed to smash down on her way to figuring out how to really and truly be happy.

He studied her for a long minute. “It would be my pleasure.”

Of course a lifetime of habits was not easy to forget all in one night. “Do we really have to use that much butter?” she exclaimed in horror as he dropped an entire stick into the Dutch oven.

The look her gave her smacked ofI told you so . “Can’t make cream sauce without it.”

He stirred the rich sauce then held the spoon up to her lips.

“Taste.” She hesitated for just a moment too long and he teased, “Guess I’d better taste it myself, huh?

Only I have a feeling it would be much better if I lick it off you instead.”

Without so much as blinking, he dropped a dab on the curve of her breast that was visible above her sundress. And then his mouth was on her and she was desperate for him all over again.

He raised his head and the heat in his eyes took her breath away. “Delicious.”

Suddenly, Emma wasn’t hungry anymore. At least, not for food. He dipped his finger in the pot and held it out to her.

“Your turn.”

She sucked his finger into his mouth. He was right—the cream sauce tasted like heaven. Just like Jason.

“What do you think?”

She shivered as her tongue dragged across the pad of his index finger. “I love it.”

His eyes changed from molten heat to ice-cold steel. “Let’s get on with this cooking lesson so we can eat.”

In the blink of an eye he’d gone from playful to crisp and utterly detached. Emma felt as if he’d punched her in the stomach. What had she said that had been so wrong? He didn’t think “I love it,” meant “I love you,” did he?

Oh God, she thought with a sinking heart. That was exactly what he thought. Here he thought they were merely having fun in the sack and he was obviously afraid that she was reading more into his sensual attentions than he intended.

The small hope that had been building within her all day died. She knew better than to dream of building a new, better relationship with him. He might have accepted her apology but she had a feeling he was never going to trust her again.

But even though Emma’s heart was in a million pieces—and it was her own damn fault, of course, for not only betraying him in college, but for acting like such a hopeless romantic—she was determined to make the best of this precious time with Jason. After all, she certainly wasn’t suffering in his arms, was she?

Just because he wanted to keep things light and fun didn’t mean she had to go back home to her awful life with her tail between her legs, did it?

From here on out, she’d remember to keep their relationship carefree and sexy. And she definitely wouldn’t use the word “love” again under any circumstances. She’d get as much pleasure from being with Jason as she could, and then when it was time for her to finally return to real life, she’d have lots of truly wonderful memories to savor for the rest of her boring existence.

“I have an idea,” she said, forcing flirtatious banter that she didn’t really feel. “How about we scrap the cooking lesson and move straight to the eating strawberries and whipped cream off each other in bed part of the evening?”

He blinked once and then she visibly saw him relax as he bought her “I just want sex” act. She reached for him and the way he captured her mouth let her know exactly how much he wanted her body.

Even if he didn’t want any part of her heart.

He was getting in too deep. Jason knew it, and yet he’d found it impossible to pull away from Emma.

Until she said the L-word, that is. Just hearing it fall from her lips had knocked sense into him, like a ten-ton truck driving over his heart. What the hell was he doing? He was supposed to be f**king her raw, not falling for her charming banter, her pretty smiles.

The problem was, no matter how he tried to keep his distance, he was sliding deeper and deeper into the quicksand. Falling for Emma all over again. Hard. Everything between them continued to change by the second as he slipped deeper and deeper into the woman he’d never stopped loving.

He wasn’t sure he could ever forgive her. But suddenly he wondered if he wanted to be with her badly enough, then perhaps he didn’t need atonement after all?

Breathless as he lifted her up onto the stainless-steel counter, Emma asked, “Have you ever made love here?”

“Well, there was this dame yesterday who wouldn’t leave me alone until I let her blow me in the restaurant.”

Emma blushed at the wicked memory, but even more so because she had so enjoyed being that dame.

“Lucky girl,” she murmured, playing along. “What about in the kitchen?”

“Do you mean have I ever had a hard time keeping my hands off the staff?”

She shook her head. “I know you wouldn’t do that. I was talking about bringing your dates here.”

Jason laughed at that, but since he was also running one hand up her bare thigh, she was having a hard time figuring out what was so funny.

“You don’t honestly think any of the women I’ve been with would want to so much as set foot in here, do you?”

Frankly, Emma wished she’d never asked the question, because all of a sudden she really, really didn’t want to hear any more about all the perfect, exotic women he’d been with.