Honor

that just holding her stirred. His blood roared in his veins, then slowed as contentment stole over him. When had he last felt this peaceful? Months ago? Years?
“When you say it like that,” she murmured, the words muffled against his chest, “I can almost believe we will work things out.”
“Believe it, Lacey. I want it with all my heart.”
“So do I.”
But they both knew that wanting alone was not nearly enough.
* * *
Lacey was standing in front of the kitchen counter up to her elbows in bread dough and flour. She studied the mess and wondered what had possessed her to try to bake bread, when the best bakery in the universe was less than a mile away, to say nothing of Mrs. Renfield, who would gladly trade one of her home-baked loaves for more of that fancy material.
Maybe it had something to do with the confession she’d made the day before. It was true that she had resented giving up the claim to her own kitchen, her own gardens. She had spoken out, but obviously not forcefully enough if Kevin had no memory of it. Maybe she had just given up, once it was clear that he’d made up his mind. Maybe it was her own fault, as much as his. For all of his talents, he wasn’t a mind reader. If she had capitulated, he must have thought it was simply because he’d convinced her.
Maybe she was baking bread because she was still shaken by the way she had felt with Kevin’s arms around her. Each time he touched her, each time he gazed into her eyes, each time she felt his kindness surrounding her like the warmth of a quilt, he stripped away some of her defenses. After that, Lacey had desperately needed a project that would give her time to re-group. What better way to do that than tackling something she’d never tried before?
Just as she was resolving never to give in so easily again to his persuasive arguments or his touches, she heard Kevin’s muffled chuckle behind her and whirled on him. She shook a warning finger at him, sending out a fine mist of flour.
“Don’t say it. Don’t even think it.”
His eyes sparkled with amusement. “I was just admiring your domesticity. I suppose this is one of those other things I robbed you of by hiring a housekeeper.”
She heard the note of good-natured teasing in his tone, but she was in no mood for it, not with this mess spread out around her. “Do you recall my ever baking bread?”
“Nope.”
“That’s right. I never once attempted it, even before you hired the housekeeper. Thank goodness you never wanted to live in one of those communes where everyone baked their own bread and lived off the vegetables they grew themselves.”
“Without toxic pesticides, of course.”
She grinned. “Of course.”
“So why are you baking bread now?”
“Because I should have learned,” she said, aware as she said it how ridiculous she sounded.
“Excuse me?” Kevin queried, justifiably confused by her convoluted logic.
“I know how you like home-baked bread. It was something I always meant to learn, but first one thing and then another came along and I never did.”
“So you’re learning now?”
She swiped her hand across her face. “More or less. I stopped by Mrs. Renfield’s while you were resting this afternoon and asked her for the recipe.”
“Maybe you should have asked her for another loaf of bread.”
Lacey scowled at Kevin for echoing her own thoughts. “Go away.”
He nodded agreeably. “No problem. When should I come back?”
“Try breakfast. I figure I ought to have some semblance of bread figured out by then.”
“We haven’t had dinner yet.”
“Don’t you think I know that? I forgot about all that rising and kneading and stuff. It takes time.”
“I’d really like some dinner.” At her fierce expression, he quickly amended, “Not right away, but soon. Say, by eight?”
“So order a pizza,” she growled.
His eyes lit up. “A pizza! Great idea.” He reached for the phone.
“Wait!”
He turned back. “I knew it was too good to be true. No pizza, huh?”
“Chinese. Call for Chinese. Nothing fried, nothing with eggs. That should be healthy enough. I think there’s a menu from a carryout place by the phone in the living room.”
He then left her alone to pummel the damn dough and rue the precise moment when she’d had this brainstorm. She slammed her fist into the doughy mound sending a spray of flour into the air. There was a certain amount of satisfaction in the action. Maybe she ought to recommend it to Kevin as a way to work off tension at the end of a long day at Halloran Industries.
Lacey thought she had the bread under control by the time Kevin came back. She’d actually put the dough into bread pans to rise for the last time. She stood back and admired them, breathing in the yeasty scent. Suddenly she realized she was starved.
“What did you order?” she asked him as he came over to examine the end result of her labors thus far.
“Chow mein, lemon chicken and for you fried rice with shrimp.”
“Sounds heavenly.”
“I placed another order while I was in there, too,” he said, tossing a catalog onto the table. “Check out page five and see what you think.”
Lacey’s gaze narrowed as she picked up the brochure from a store famous for its kitchenware. She flipped the first couple of pages until she found the item he’d circled: an outrageously expensive automatic bread maker.
“You didn’t,” she said, laughter bubbling up as she looked at his smug expression.
“I did. If baking bread is going to make you happy, you might as well have the right equipment.”
“There are some who’d say this is cheating.”
“I prefer to think of it as modernization.”
She grinned at him. “I’m not sure your motive is all that altruistic. I suspect you’re just hoping I’ll convert so you’ll have some chance of getting your meals on time.”
“Not me,” he said piously. “I could live on love.”
“I suppose that’s why we’re having Chinese carryout tonight.”
“Exactly.