Taste of Desire. Kayla Perrin

she said, startled. She put down the travel bag she’d brought with her. “I didn’t think you’d be up.”

      He was wearing a T-shirt and black silk pajama bottoms, and looked like he was ready to pose for a high-end photo shoot. How was it that he looked just as good so early in the morning as he had the night before?

      “Morning,” Jake said, rising. “I wanted to make sure you had all the information you needed for the day.” He lifted a black book from the table. “This is Riquet’s schedule, with all the pertinent phone numbers you’ll need, the address for her preschool and the addresses where she needs to go for her various extracurricular activities.”

      Salina approached Jake and he handed her the book. The gold-embossed letters engraved into the leather read: “RIQUET’S CALENDAR.”

      “It should all be self-explanatory,” Jake went on as Salina opened the book and found the appropriate date in January.

      Salina continued to flip the pages forward. She could see that Riquet’s calendar had been scheduled all the way to March. Even play dates.

      “There’s a lot in there, but what you’ll notice is that the schedule is the same for every week. Today is Wednesday, so after preschool Riquet has a play date from one-thirty to two-thirty with Sarah, and then ballet lessons.”

      “The play dates are always the same every week? With the same kids?”

      “Yes,” Jake replied. “Maria believes—and I concur—that having a regular routine for Riquet is the best thing. This way, she’ll know what to expect every day and won’t feel any anxiety.”

      Salina nodded, but she didn’t totally agree. Routines were necessary, yes. But so was spontaneity. A child needed to learn that there could be a break from routine and that the world wouldn’t fall apart. Life didn’t always follow the pattern people planned for.

      Jake’s wife’s premature death proved that.

      Salina flipped back to today’s date on the calendar, and noted that in the lunch column even a meal had been marked in. Macaroni and cheese. Certainly the girl’s routine wasn’t so rigid that there couldn’t be spontaneity when it came to meals?

      “Everything should be in there that you need, and if you find you’re confused about anything, please don’t hesitate to call.”

      “Got it,” Salina said. As she closed the book and looked at Jake, offering him a smile, she noticed that he averted his gaze.

      “I’m going to get dressed, get ready for work. Riquet usually wakes up by seven, and on Wednesdays Maria makes her pancakes for breakfast. Her preschool is about a twenty-minute car ride—Ed, my driver, will be downstairs at eight to pick you up.”

      “We have a driver?”

      “Once he gets me to the office by seven-thirty, he heads right back here so he can take Riquet to school. Once she’s in her class, he can bring you back to the apartment or out to do shopping, run the necessary errands you need to.”

      “Okay.” Salina nodded. Being a nanny in New York City entailed a lot more than she’d anticipated. Riquet’s schedule was busier than she’d known any child’s to be back in Buffalo.

      “I’m going to shower now,” Jake said, still not directly looking her in the eye.

      Once Jake headed off in the direction of his bedroom, Salina went to the kitchen. It was large, with a wraparound counter that ended in a breakfast bar. The cupboards were maple, a contrast to the pale beige backsplash and beige-tiled floor.

      Coffee was already brewed in an elaborate-looking coffeemaker. Salina would have to ask Jake how to use it.

      Though she had time, she went into the cupboard and looked for the items besides eggs she would need to make pancakes. She found flour and sugar, but no vanilla, and sadly no cinnamon. She would make sure that she picked those items up today once Riquet was in school.

      Salina spent the next few minutes familiarizing herself with the kitchen. It was a chef’s dream. Double ovens, a gas stovetop, large counter space for working … She would enjoy making many a meal here.

      She glanced toward the dining room and saw that the only thing on the table was Jake’s large coffee mug. There were no plates in the sink. Jake hadn’t eaten.

      He hadn’t said that she should make breakfast for him, and Salina wondered if he planned to pick something up on the way to work. Perhaps a bagel. Something he could eat quickly and go.

      Well, that wouldn’t do. Jake was already up with files before him, doing work. He needed food for energy and sustenance.

      Salina brought her small suitcase to Maria’s room and set it on the bed. Then she went back to the kitchen and measured the ingredients to make pancakes. She was finishing the first batch when Jake entered the kitchen.

      Freshly showered, the man looked sexy as hell. Salina swallowed. She needed to keep things in perspective. She had to remain professional, and not go all tongue-tied when she saw him. So what if he was a gorgeous man, with his white dress shirt partially unbuttoned and revealing a hint of golden brown skin on his chest, and the scent of his aftershave smelling so incredibly appealing? None of that would affect her performance as nanny.

      Salina placed two medium-size pancakes on a plate for Jake, then extended it to him. She already had butter and syrup on the table for him. “You didn’t say if I should make breakfast for you, but I took the liberty.”

      Jake finished buttoning his shirt, then took the plate from Salina. “Normally I eat on the run,” he began, “but this is good. Thank you.”

      Salina glanced at the clock on the microwave’s display.

      It was almost six forty-five. She took the skillet off the stove and placed it on a back burner, then turned to head toward Riquet’s bedroom to check on her. But before she got out of the kitchen, Jake spoke.

      “These are delicious,” he said.

      “You like them?”

      “I’ve never had pancakes this tasty before. And these are fluffy and light … amazing.”

      Salina beamed. “And I didn’t even get to make them the way I normally do—with all the ingredients I typically use.”

      “They taste better than this?” he asked, his tone saying that was hard to believe.

      “Oh, yeah.” Salina walked toward him. “When I have all the right ingredients, they’re even better.”

      “Then I might just ask that you make these again tomorrow morning,” Jake told her.

      Salina noticed that he was looking at her directly in the eye, not avoiding her gaze as he had been earlier.

      “Anything you’d like to eat for breakfast, I can make it for you. I make a really great western omelet with turkey instead of ham. Home fries, the whole bit.”

      “You’re a budding chef, are you?”

      Salina guessed that Jake was just making an offhanded comment, but she said, “Actually, I am.”

      “You are?” Jake asked between swallows.

      Salina took the liberty of sitting at the table beside him. “Yes. I guess my sister didn’t tell you. But that’s how I came to be in New York. I thought I would pursue my passion for cooking. Right now I’m trying to save money for culinary school.”

      “Ahhh. No, Emma didn’t tell me. How long have you been cooking?”

      Salina shrugged. “As long as I can remember. It’s always been a passion of mine. I hope you don’t mind if I change some of Riquet’s lunch dishes—with her permission, of course.”

      “Sure. If she doesn’t mind, I’m sure she might even enjoy a change of pace.”

      Salina heard the sound just as