Read Online I Want You for Christmas: The Prince's Lost Princess - a Heartwarming Snow-Capped Holiday Romance by Holly Rayner, Lara Hunter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Holly Rayner, Lara Hunter
Tags: Suspense, Romance, Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction, romantic suspense, Holidays, Mystery & Suspense
Ads: Link
falling backward. When she steadied herself, she released her grip on his arms, and he hesitated before pulling away.
“What are you doing here?” she gasped, holding a hand to her pounding heart. Whether it was pounding out of fear or out of her proximity to Luca, she really couldn’t tell at that moment.
“I wanted a glass of water. What are you doing here?”
“I’m hungry. I’m an American, remember? We like big portion sizes.”
Luca broke into a hearty laugh at that. After bending over his knees he rose and wiped a stray tear from his dazzling gold eyes. “And yet somehow you manage to stay nice and trim. Tell me, what’s your secret?”
“A good metabolism and a lot of running around the restaurant,” Gaby replied.
Luca glanced at the closed refrigerator. “What are you going to make? I admit that the meal wasn’t quite filling enough for me either.”
Gaby opened the door again and glanced around, then she pushed it shut and looked at Luca. “Have you ever made pasta before?”
Luca shrugged and looked bashful. “I’ve never made anything myself before.”
Gaby put her hands on her hips. “Oh come on. You’ve never even scrambled your own eggs? Some people like cooking as a hobby, you know. Even the rich ones.”
“I’m not one of those people.”
Luca’s grin was either maddening or endearing. At the moment Gaby had a hard time deciphering which. She looked him over for a moment, pensive, then she pulled a few eggs out of the fridge.
“Well tonight you are getting a cooking lesson, Your Highness,” she said, bustling around the kitchen to find the flour, salt and olive oil she needed.
Luca looked momentarily apprehensive, but he approached the table as Gaby began to mix the ingredients in a large silver bowl. She realized, then, that Luca was wearing an outfit very similar to her own: long, cotton pants and a light T-shirt. He looked beyond handsome, and, dare she say it, normal. It was a good reminder that even though his status placed him above most people, at the end of the day, he was still just a person.
And tonight he was going to learn to make pasta.
TEN
“So we’re going to mix this all together until we get ourselves a nice dough. Come here and knead it.”
Luca was hesitant as he stepped forward and reached into the bowl, pressing against it with his fingers.
Gaby laughed. “You call that kneading? Come on, Luca, really get in there!” she said, wrapping her hands around his as she showed him how to properly work the dough.
When it was ready, she took the ball of dough from the bowl and, finding some plastic wrap, wrapped it up and set it on the counter.
“Now what do we do?” Luca asked, and Gaby was pleased to see him looking enthusiastic.
Glancing around the kitchen, she found what she was looking for and strolled over to a small wine rack, pulling out a bottle at random.
“We have a drink, because we have to let it sit for thirty minutes so we can allow the gluten matrix to relax. Otherwise the pasta will get all springy like a rubber band.”
“You sure know a lot about cooking,” Luca observed, opening a drawer and pulling out a corkscrew.
He held out a hand for the wine bottle, and Gaby gave it to him, careful not to let their fingers touch. Kneading dough with him had felt strangely intimate, and Gaby was already in dangerous territory there. Luca was too handsome to resist, and she needed to resist, for the sake of her own heart.
“I grew up in a kitchen. My mom taught me everything I know.”
Luca grinned, though there was a trace of sadness in his eyes. He popped open the wine bottle and pulled two glasses from a hanging rack, pouring healthy amounts of the deep red liquid into each. He handed one to Gaby.
“What did you do to upset your mom so much, Luca? You can tell me. Who am I going to tell?”
Luca frowned. “Oh I
“What are you doing here?” she gasped, holding a hand to her pounding heart. Whether it was pounding out of fear or out of her proximity to Luca, she really couldn’t tell at that moment.
“I wanted a glass of water. What are you doing here?”
“I’m hungry. I’m an American, remember? We like big portion sizes.”
Luca broke into a hearty laugh at that. After bending over his knees he rose and wiped a stray tear from his dazzling gold eyes. “And yet somehow you manage to stay nice and trim. Tell me, what’s your secret?”
“A good metabolism and a lot of running around the restaurant,” Gaby replied.
Luca glanced at the closed refrigerator. “What are you going to make? I admit that the meal wasn’t quite filling enough for me either.”
Gaby opened the door again and glanced around, then she pushed it shut and looked at Luca. “Have you ever made pasta before?”
Luca shrugged and looked bashful. “I’ve never made anything myself before.”
Gaby put her hands on her hips. “Oh come on. You’ve never even scrambled your own eggs? Some people like cooking as a hobby, you know. Even the rich ones.”
“I’m not one of those people.”
Luca’s grin was either maddening or endearing. At the moment Gaby had a hard time deciphering which. She looked him over for a moment, pensive, then she pulled a few eggs out of the fridge.
“Well tonight you are getting a cooking lesson, Your Highness,” she said, bustling around the kitchen to find the flour, salt and olive oil she needed.
Luca looked momentarily apprehensive, but he approached the table as Gaby began to mix the ingredients in a large silver bowl. She realized, then, that Luca was wearing an outfit very similar to her own: long, cotton pants and a light T-shirt. He looked beyond handsome, and, dare she say it, normal. It was a good reminder that even though his status placed him above most people, at the end of the day, he was still just a person.
And tonight he was going to learn to make pasta.
TEN
“So we’re going to mix this all together until we get ourselves a nice dough. Come here and knead it.”
Luca was hesitant as he stepped forward and reached into the bowl, pressing against it with his fingers.
Gaby laughed. “You call that kneading? Come on, Luca, really get in there!” she said, wrapping her hands around his as she showed him how to properly work the dough.
When it was ready, she took the ball of dough from the bowl and, finding some plastic wrap, wrapped it up and set it on the counter.
“Now what do we do?” Luca asked, and Gaby was pleased to see him looking enthusiastic.
Glancing around the kitchen, she found what she was looking for and strolled over to a small wine rack, pulling out a bottle at random.
“We have a drink, because we have to let it sit for thirty minutes so we can allow the gluten matrix to relax. Otherwise the pasta will get all springy like a rubber band.”
“You sure know a lot about cooking,” Luca observed, opening a drawer and pulling out a corkscrew.
He held out a hand for the wine bottle, and Gaby gave it to him, careful not to let their fingers touch. Kneading dough with him had felt strangely intimate, and Gaby was already in dangerous territory there. Luca was too handsome to resist, and she needed to resist, for the sake of her own heart.
“I grew up in a kitchen. My mom taught me everything I know.”
Luca grinned, though there was a trace of sadness in his eyes. He popped open the wine bottle and pulled two glasses from a hanging rack, pouring healthy amounts of the deep red liquid into each. He handed one to Gaby.
“What did you do to upset your mom so much, Luca? You can tell me. Who am I going to tell?”
Luca frowned. “Oh I
Similar Books
