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to press her luck.

“All right then. How about you sit down and let me take care of this?”

For a moment, she thought he was going to refuse, but he surprised her by sliding into the booth seat. “All right.”

“Here. You can open this,” she said, handing him a bottle. “It’s a peach Riesling I’ve been working on with a friend I met on one of my summer internships in college. Her family owns vineyards along the Mosel River in Germany. Phenomenal white grapes. I’d love to start a mini vineyard of my own at some point.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Gunther thinks it’s too risky. It would require a prime south-facing slope and several years to achieve anything viable. Still, I think it would be a good investment. Local wineries are becoming more popular every year.”

“Does your brother make all the decisions for the business?”

“We each get an equal vote, but Kief and Rick rarely vote against Gunther, so he usually gets his way.”

Doc didn’t say anything else on the subject, but the slight downturn of his lips suggested he didn’t like her answer. She didn’t either, but it was what it was.

Under Doc’s watchful eyes, Tina pulled the chicken from the oven but left the stuffed peaches in to stay warm. She located dishes, glasses, and silverware with his direction and prepared plates for them both.

“Zook’s chicken stands on its own,” she told him, “but I made a peach and currant chutney that I think goes well with it.”

He took a bite and closed his eyes in bliss. “This is ... I don’t even have words for this.”

“I know, right? I was thinking of giving a few jars to Eli and Rachael Zook next week, kind of a cross-promotional thing. We did something similar with a hot chow chow last year.”

“Chow chow?”

She shook her head and laughed. “We really need to work on your cultural awareness. It’s a Dutchie thing—a sweet-and-sour mix of pickled vegetables. Except I used a prototype sweet peach cider instead of the usual sugar and vinegar. It went over well.”

“If it’s even half as good as this, I can see why.”

Doc was already familiar with her peach jam, tarts, and whoopie pies—thanks to Sandy—so she decided to leave those for him to enjoy later.

“Are you ready for the pièce de résistance?” she asked when he finished the last of his chicken.

“There’s no way you can top this,” he insisted, shaking his head.

Oh, she planned on topping it all right. She pulled her latest creation from the oven—baked peaches stuffed with a cookie-cashew filling, topped with a whipped zabaglione.

“I got the idea for this one from Rico Buschetti,” Tina explained as she scooped some onto a clean plate and added a generous dollop of her peach-based zabaglione. “He runs the Italian restaurant in town and does this flaming dessert with strawberries that is simply outstanding.”

Instead of sitting across from him, she cut a spoonful and held it to his lips. His eyes didn’t leave hers as he took the first bite.

“Well?”

“I need another taste to be sure.”

Tina held her breath as Doc coaxed her down onto his lap. Then, he dipped his finger into the serving dish and spread the filling and whipped topping over her lips.

She gave herself over to it, quickly deciding that being devoured by Doc was her new favorite thing. He nibbled, he licked, he savored, and she loved every second of it.

“Delicious,” he said softly.

He repeated the process, and it was even better the second time. By the time he reached over for a third helping, her heart was racing, and heat was pooling between her legs. The only thing she wanted more was to feel those talented lips working magic on other parts of her body, too.

His hands gripped her hips, those long fingers flexing as if they wanted to explore. She desperately wished they would. Tina scooted up on his lap in an attempt to get closer, but all that did was situate her more solidly over the hard proof that he was enjoying their kisses, too.

“Tina,” he warned when she began to rock her hips.

She nibbled his lips. “You’re right. This is a much better way to taste-test. But I need more data.”

“What data?” he mumbled.

“Maybe it tastes better on some parts more than others.”

She took a page out of his book and swiped her finger in the dish, spreading the sweet mix onto his skin. She licked along the column of his throat. He growled, a low, supremely masculine sound that made her ache.

“Hold on.”

It was the only warning she had before Doc was on his feet. Her legs tightened around his hips, her arms around his neck. The next thing she knew, she was on the couch, and he was looming over her with a hungry look in his eyes.

There was nothing easygoing about that look. Gold flecks flashed in vibrant green and deep amber. This was a man with things on his mind. Wild, passionate things. Yet he was keeping them under control. She knew that as surely as she knew her nipples had never been quite so hard, nor her panties quite so wet, from simply kissing.

“Yes,” she whispered. Whatever his unspoken question was, the answer was an unequivocal yes.

He grinned, a sexy, predatory grin that thrilled her, and began to raise the hem of her shirt. He smeared the dessert on the exposed skin and then took great time and attention in removing it. When finished, he lifted the material a few more inches and repeated the process.

Before long, her impatience got the best of her, and she yanked the shirt over her head. He chuckled.

Tina loved the way his eyes darkened when he saw the hardened tips clearly through her bra. Even more, she liked the way he wasted no time in slipping the straps over her shoulders to expose her flesh.

The look in his eyes was priceless. An intense mix of hunger and passion and want. In that moment, she felt like the most

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