Room...but Not Bored!. Dawn Atkins

try,” he said, pushing the plate closer.

      She wanted to finish her plan first, but to satisfy him, she took a bite.

      Oh. Wow. The buttery, cheesy eggs melted on her tongue. The mushrooms were a sweet musk, the onions tangy pearls of flavor, the salsa a spicy tomato garden. “This is sooo good,” she said, barely pausing to swallow before taking another bite.

      “I’m glad you like it.” Their eyes locked and Ariel felt an alarming sizzle that made her stop chewing. Jake took in her face, then strayed to her chest in an involuntary carnal appraisal. He lifted his eyes to hers, looking pleased with what he’d seen. “Any dietary restrictions? Particular foods you like or dislike?” he asked, making it sound like he was asking after her sexual preferences.

      “I like, um, everything.” That sounded bad.

      “I could resurface the wood floors, too, you know,” he murmured, equally suggestively. “If I had enough time…”

      He seemed to be trying to seduce her…with smooth omelets and gleaming wood floors. And it was working. Freshly surfaced floors would really make the place attractive to buyers….

      Stop it. Jake was flirting with her, bribing her. “I can’t afford the floors,” she said, deliberately breaking the gaze.

      Jake shrugged. We’ll see, he seemed to be saying.

      Ariel went after the omelet again.

      Jake chuckled and she looked up, still chewing. “I like it that you’re not afraid to enjoy food. I hate when women nibble and pretend not to be hungry.”

      “I’m not much on pretense,” she said, swallowing her last bite. Jake still had half of his omelet.

      “No, you get right to the point, all right,” he said. “Like I know you want me to move out of here right away.”

      “I think that would be best,” she said, putting down her fork with reluctance, glancing again at all the eggs Jake wasn’t eating. She should have savored hers more…. “I’ve got a lot to handle and this place is too small for two people and a construction zone.” She felt guilty ogling his omelet while she was talking about booting him onto the beach.

      “Here,” he said, cutting her a bite of his eggs and holding it out—an intimate gesture that he made seem perfectly natural.

      “No, no. I’m fine.” She shook her head. “I had plenty.”

      He moved the fork closer, tempting her.

      She took the bite quickly, avoiding eye contact, feeling shaky inside. Then the fabulous taste overcame her. “Mmm,” she said. “This is amazing.”

      “People love my mixed grill, too. I stuff the meat with chorizo—do you eat meat?”

      “Yes.”

      “Good. My enchiladas aren’t bad, either.”

      “I can imagine,” she said, loving the sound of that. She’d have to get an aerobic exercise plan immediately if she was going to eat any more of Jake’s cooking…which she wouldn’t be for any more than two days. At the most.

      “And I make great coffee.” He was hitting her where she was vulnerable, which, right now, was her stomach. “And I’m good company,” he continued, leaning forward, very companionable, very warm…. She had the odd feeling he was tempted to kiss her. And, worse, she kind of liked the idea. She licked her lips, which made Jake take in a little breath before he continued speaking. “How do you feel about…?”

      Kissing? Love it. Live for it. She felt herself sway toward him, transfixed by his great lips and teasing smile.

      “Poker,” he finished.

      Poker? Was poker code for what she thought they were talking about?

      “Yeah. I like to have people over for all-night games.”

      “All night?”

      “Yeah. Five-card draw. There’s an ante limit.”

      The daze cleared abruptly. What was wrong with her? Jake was talking about poker, not poker. She was obviously feeling overwhelmed by all the changes and the work she faced and was using this physical attraction as an escape valve. Talk about self-defeating. She had to focus on her goal, not on kissing or poker and any of its double meanings.

      “So, you’ve only been here three weeks and you’ve got friends hanging out for poker and enchiladas?”

      “I know people in Playa Linda, and I’ve lived up and down the coast. The marina where I work a lot is close. And I make friends pretty easy.”

      Friends like Heather, no doubt. Friends she didn’t want sleeping over.

      “I’m sure you’re good company and you’re a great cook, Jake, but the problem still stands.”

      He spoke in a John Wayne drawl, “This town ain’t big enough for the both of us, Pilgrim. That what you mean?”

      “Exactly.”

      “Do I make you uncomfortable? Is that it?” he asked, his blue eyes digging in.

      There was no point in fibbing. “Yes, actually, you do.”

      “I don’t mean to. You don’t have to worry. I don’t believe in fooling around with roommates.”

      “Excuse me?” She felt her cheeks go red.

      “It’s nothing personal. It just gets too complicated.”

      “Oh, it does?” she said. For some reason, she was wounded that he’d said that so easily—as if she weren’t even a temptation. Her inner wild child purred to life—out of sheer stubbornness and exhaustion-induced recklessness.

      “Somebody always wants to turn it into something it isn’t,” Jake added.

      “And I’m guessing that somebody’s never you.”

      Jake shrugged. “Living together triggers nesting instincts for women, I guess, and they start bringing in twigs and bits of twine and dryer fuzz.”

      “So you think any woman who lived with you would try to trap you into something permanent?” What an arrogant…

      He grinned. “Good point. Not every woman, but why risk it? A good roommate is like gold.”

      “I doubt you’d find me a good roommate. I like spic-and-span orderliness and absolute peace and quiet. And classical music.”

      “Classical’s good. And don’t be so down on yourself.”

      “I’m not down on myself. I’m trying to tell you—” She stopped, realizing he was teasing her.

      “It’s all right, Ariel. I’ll find a place to crash for a while—maybe stay on a friend’s boat. Can I keep my gear here though?”

      “Your gear? If you can fit it all in the guest room closet, I guess.” She remembered the sailboard and surfboards and the weight bench. No way would that fit in one small closet. She sighed. “Take a couple of days,” she said, “and find a place for you and your stuff.”

      “Great.” He sounded relieved. Too relieved. She would stay on his case until he was out. Fully out. Surfboards and all.

      “Thanks for the food,” she said, picking up her scraped-clean plate and his. She’d do the dishes as a thank you.

      “I’ll clean up when I get back from volleyball,” Jake said. “Why don’t you come with? I’m heading out in a couple hours.”

      “No thanks.” Playing was the last thing on her mind. “How about if you clear your things out of my room, while I do the dishes?”

      Before he could respond, there was a thump at the door. Jake went to answer it. Lucky bounded in with did ya miss me? all over his doggie face.

      “So