Smiling, he tapped his glass to hers, leaning close to stare into her eyes. “Will you trust me?”

“Huh?”

His smile widened. “To choose the menu.”

She blinked, took a hasty sip of wine. “Sure. I’ll eat most anything.”

As he began gathering ingredients and pots and pans, she let out a slow, relieved breath. “You’re going to cook?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I figured you’d just call out for something.” Her brows drew together as he poured oil in a skillet. “It’s an awful lot of trouble.”

“I enjoy it.” Sebastian snipped some herbs into a bowl. “It relaxes me.”

Mel scratched her knee and gave the mixture he was making a doubtful look. “You want me to help you?”

“You don’t cook.”

She lifted a brow. “How do you know?”

“I got a glimpse of your kitchen. Garlic?”

“Sure.”

Sebastian crushed the clove with the flat of his knife. “What did you want to talk to me about, Mel?”

“A couple of things.” She shifted in her chair, then rested her chin on her hand. Odd, she hadn’t realized she would enjoy watching him cook. “Things turned out the way they were supposed to for Rose and Stan and David. What’s that you’re putting in there?”

“Rosemary.”

“It smells good.” So did he, she thought. Gone was the sexy leather-and-sweat scent he’d carried with him after the ride. It had been replaced by that equally sexy forest fragrance that was both wild and utterly male. She sipped her wine again, relaxing enough to toe off her boots. “For Mr. and Mrs. Frost back in Georgia, things are pretty awful right now.”

Sebastian scooped tomato and garlic and herbs into a skillet. “When someone wins, someone usually loses.”

“I know how it works. We did what we had to do, but we didn’t finish.”

He coated boneless chicken breasts before laying them in a pan. He liked the way she sat there, swinging one leg lazily and watching his culinary preparations with a careful eye. “Go on.”

“We didn’t get the one who matters, Donovan. The one who arranged the whole thing. We got David back, and that was the most important thing, but we didn’t finish. He’s not the only baby who’s been stolen.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s logical. An operation that slick, that pat. It wasn’t just a one-shot deal.”

“No.” He topped off their glasses, then poured some of the wine onto the chicken. “It’s not.”

“So, here’s the way I see it.” She pushed off the stool. Mel felt she thought better on her feet. “The Frosts had a contact. Now, they might have been able to turn the feds onto him, or he could be long gone. I’d go with long gone.” She stopped pacing to tilt her head.

Sebastian nodded. “Continue.”