Perfect for You

If she wanted to use him to get her creative juices flowing again, fantastic. Anything to give him more opportunities to show her they had magic together.
    She was it for him. He loved her. He just needed to show her that a playboy divorce lawyer was worth the risk.
    Oblivious of his thoughts, she continued. "The Teuscher was just what I needed to get me through yesterday afternoon. That was divine inspiration on your part."
    It was her sister, but he wasn't going to mention that. The kid had been feeding him "tips" all week. He ignored most of them, but some of them seemed like no-brainers.
    "What's wrong?" she asked.
    "Absolutely nothing." If Freya found out her sister had sold her out, even for such a good cause, shit would hit the fan—and it wouldn't be good for either Anna or him.
    She narrowed her eyes as though she didn't believe him, but then she shook her head and turned to her food. She nibbled on a cracker mounded with caviar. She set it down and pushed around a thin slice of fois gras.
    In all the meals they had shared together, he'd never seen her play with her food. Usually, she attacked it with great enthusiasm. "Don't you like it?"
    She looked up, meeting his gaze boldly in that direct way he loved. "I do. It's delicious. It's just that it's not what I'm craving."
    "What are you craving?"
    An impish gleam lit her eyes. "Dessert."
    "What kind of dessert were you hoping for?"
    She tapped a finger against her lips, her mouth turned up at the corners coyly.
    Smiling, anticipating, he leaned back in his chair and waited.
    "Something creamy and rich. I might be able to do cakey if it's really moist."
    How could an ordinary word like "moist" sound so carnal coming from her mouth? It brought all kinds of images to his mind—mostly of velvety pink flesh laved by his tongue till it was swollen and juicy. "I think we can arrange that."
    His hand wasn't raised halfway before the maitre d' was at their table. The man's eyes took in their untouched food. "Is the first course not satisfactory?"
    "The food is great, but we would like to skip ahead to dessert."
    "Very well, Mr. Cavanaugh. And the other courses?"
    "Hold them until further notice."
    "Yes, sir."
    Greg wondered how they did it, but it seemed like two seconds later there was a server at their table wheeling in an array of desserts that must have taken an architectural genius to put together.
    Freya pursed her lips, examining the selections carefully, a slight frown marring her brow. "I can't decide which one to have. They all look fabulous."
    Turning to the server, he said, "We'll have one of each. To share."
    "Very good, sir."
    Greg and Freya watched him place a large portion of each one on a platter. Before he set it on the table between them, he cleared all the plates and silverware except for one dessert fork and a teaspoon for each of them. After making sure that their champagne and water glasses were filled, he wheeled the dessert cart out again.
    "Will there be anything else, Mr. Cavanaugh?" their host asked.
    "We'd like some privacy. We'll call for you if we need anything." Greg lifted his eyebrow, silently communicating that he expected no interruptions.
    Which the maitre d' understood. After all, that was what he was being paid for. "Excellent, sir." He left as unobtrusively as he arrived.
    "I've died and gone to heaven," Freya murmured, eyeing the plate of decadence with excitement.
    He smiled at how she was smacking her lips together in anticipation of the first bite. "Have at it."
    She pulled the plate a couple inches closer to her, throwing him a quick glance as if she were making sure he wouldn't pull it back. Then she slowly rotated it, clockwise and then counterclockwise, sniffing each concoction before moving on to the next one.
    Amused, he sipped at the champagne and watched. He was content to sit there all night and watch her eat the entire plate if that made her happy.
    When she was back where she started, she dipped her fork into the first piece, taking a miniscule tidbit and delicately tasting it. Once she cleared her palate with some water, she moved on to the next piece.
    Greg wasn't sure how long her little ritual took before she finished sampling each dessert. Her attention was so completely captured by the sweets he wasn't sure she remembered he was in the vault with her. Not that he minded. How could he when she was eating with such rapture?
    She looked up, blinking at him in surprise. "What? Aren't you eating?"
    "I wasn't