“You’re cold. Go on in the house,” Roan said. “I’ll tend the fire.”
“No way. This is my project.”
“Okay.” He extended his left arm toward her, holding open his coat. “Do you want to share body heat until the fire builds up?”
“Yes, please.” She moved closer.
It wasn’t until he’d pulled her against him, wrapped half his coat and his arm around her, that Jazzy realized maybe this wasn’t such a hot idea. Not when she was already aching for him and his body against hers only stoked that blaze.
Chapter 14
When Jazzy slipped her arm around his waist and burrowed against his side, Roan just about came undone. He was the stoic type. A guy who kept his messy emotions tightly under wraps, but right now, his feelings were a huge, complicated muddle.
The minutes ticked by and they stood there, staring into the fire, not speaking. His body was doing things he didnotwant it to do. Growing harder the closer Jazzy pressed into him. Briefly, Roan closed his eyes, scrambling for some semblance of self-control.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Huh?” He opened his eyes, feeling the weight of her head against his shoulder. Hell yes, he was ready. He glanced down at her.
She peered up at him with the most innocent smile. Okay, it seems she had not noticed the hard-on. Why would she? They were side by side, facing forward, his coat camouflaging his anatomy. Thank God.
“The fire. It looks like there’s enough embers for the Dutch oven,” she said.
“Yes, right.” He swallowed hard, wished away his erection.
She eased from his sheltering arm and moved toward the fire, sinking down on her knees in front of the pit. Her blond hair shone golden in the late afternoon sun.
That did not help things. His body grew even harder. To help hide what was going on, Roan jammed his hands into his pockets.
She reached for the insulated gloves he’d set out and dug hot coals from underneath the burning mesquite logs the way he’d taught her for Dutch oven baking.
“Good job,” he complimented.
She turned to look up at him from her crouching position, a big smile on her face. “Thanks.”
Terrified she was going to see his arousal, Roan dropped to his knees beside her, noticing with surprise that the pulse at her throat throbbed when his leg brushed against hers. He heard her draw in a deep, shaky breath and his own lungs squeezed.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Sure, fine, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you just put the Dutch oven on the coals without putting any cookie dough in it.”
“Oh well.” Her laugh was as shaky as her breathing. “So, I did.”
She leaped up and raced over to where they’d left the rugelach sitting on the outdoor counter. She looked so beautiful in the slant of the dying sunthrough the oak trees. The orange light accentuated her high cheekbones and shimmering blue eyes. She looked like an oasis. Life-giving and welcomed.
Roan blinked, almost convinced she was a mirage, but nope, she was still there, still smiling. He rose to his feet. “Do you want me to put the dough in the Dutch oven for you?”
“No, no, I need to learn to do everything on my own. I’ve got to win this thing.”
“Do know this, I’m on your team one hundred percent.” He thought about telling her how Andi had tried to hire him, but he didn’t want to stir the pot. Barring unforeseen circumstances, Jazzy was going to win this competition, Roan would make certain of that.
“Thanks.”
He took the lid-lifter tool and raised the top on the Dutch oven. Jazzy came over and knelt down in front of the fire, gingerly easing the pastry rounds onto the bottom of the cookware with her insulated gloves. The cookies got a little misshapen in the process, but it didn’t matter. For now, they were just trying to get the basic rugelach recipe baked over the campfire.
When she’d finished, Jazzy rocked back on her heels to give him room to replace the lid. Then, she used the fireplace shovel to disperse coals from the fire onto the lid and the baking had begun. Roan set a timer and they settled into the side-by-side Adirondack chairs to wait.