Zoe stared at her candle. "You would?"
"We'll be stocking a lot more items like decorative candles after the expansion. You'll have to show me some of the others you've done, and we'll talk."
"Is it okay if I go in the game room?" Simon asked. "I brought back Smackdown, so we can have our rematch."
"Sure. There's another game loaded. You can switch it."
"Are you going to come play now?"
"I've got to start putting dinner together, but you can go work up an appetite. I want you hungry. I had the frog legs flown in special."
"Uh-uh."
"Giant frog legs. From Africa."
"No way."
"Or we can just have steak."
"Frog steak!"
"Naturally." On a mock scream, Simon tore out of the room.
"You're awfully good with him," Zoe said.
"He makes it easy. Why don't you sit down and—" He broke off when Simon's shouted "Holy cow!" burst out of the game room. "He found the new game."
"Bradley."
"Hmm?"
"I have to ask you for a promise. Don't say all right yet," she cautioned, turning her glass round and round by the stem as she studied his face. "It's important, and if you take the time to think about it first, I'll believe you'll keep your word."
"What do you want me to promise, Zoe?"
"Simon—he's so attached to you. He's never had… somebody like you pay attention to him, not this way. It's getting so he's depending on you paying that attention. I need you to promise that whatever happens with us, whatever way it turns out, you won't forget him. I'm not talking about riding in limos. I'm asking you to promise that you won't stop being a friend to him."
"He's not the only one who's attached, Zoe. I can make you that promise." He offered his hand. "You've got my word."
She took his hand, squeezed it as the tension that had built inside her while she made her request dissolved again. "All right. Well." She looked around the kitchen. "What can I do?"
"You can sit down and drink your champagne."
"I ought to be able to help with those African frog legs."
He cupped the back of her neck with his hand, kissed her, not quite so lightly, not quite so casually as he had when Simon had been in the room. "Sit down, and drink your champagne," he said again, flicking a finger at her earlobe. "Nice earrings."
She gave a quick, baffled laugh. "Thanks." Though she still felt as if she should be helping, she perched on a stool at the bar. "Are you really going to cook?"
"I'm going to grill, which is entirely different. All the Vane men grill. If they didn't they'd be drummed out of the family."
"You're going to grill? In November?"
"We Vanes grill year-round, even if we have to chip through the ice, brave blizzards, risk frostbite. However, it happens I have this very handy deal right here on the range."
"I've seen those in magazines." She watched him fire up the built-in grill on the stovetop. "And on TV, on some of the cooking shows."
He tucked potatoes already wrapped in foil around the flame. "Just don't tell my father I used this instead of standing outside like a man."