“I’ve been with you all day and you haven’t eaten anything.” He paused, considering. “Well, unless you count the Snickers bar and Coke you had for breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Nonsense. You need to eat something.”

“Nonsense?” She crossed her arms over her chest, gave him a slow smile, and glanced pointedly around at the dark, quiet house. It was late. Maybe they should have stopped for pizza. “Well then, Daddy,” she drawled, “what did you have in mind? There’s no food around here I can see.”

“The kitchen is closed, but we can still find something to make a meal. They know me around here. I’m sure I can get us a table.”

“Ah. Humor.” She nodded. “All right. Lead the way.”

Isabelle followed him down one of the darkened corridors of the house, past the carefully hung artwork, the small, intimate sitting areas and the lovely carved wood tables upon which sat vases filled to bursting with fresh flowers until finally they reached the huge Coven kitchen.

He opened the swinging doors, allowing her to step through. By the small amount of light, she saw it was all stainless steel and spotless. A large middle island stood amidst the stoves, refrigerators, and countertops.

“Wow.”

Thomas went for the bank of refrigerators. “There’s a wine cave, too.”

She wandered over to sit at the island, sliding onto one of the cushioned chairs, and watched Thomas pull random items out of the fridge and set them on the counter—strawberries, a platter of leftover chicken swimming in some sort of yummy-looking sauce and a plate of steamed asparagus.

She caught sight of a bowl of ripe avocados on a nearby counter, grabbed one of the pieces of fruit along with a salt shaker, a knife, and a cutting board, and sat back down to peel it.

“Aha!”

She jerked her head up from her work on the avocado to see Thomas take a plate of something from the fridge. She leaned over to take a closer look while he pulled off the plastic covering it. “Oh, no. I’m not eating that.”

He glanced up at her. “What? You don’t like oysters? What’s wrong with you?”

She shuddered. “They’re slimy and hideous.”

“You’ve never tasted one.”

She peeled the last bit of the avocado, extracted the seed and cut a bit of the ripe fruit. “I don’t need to.” She popped a thin slice of the avocado into her mouth and let the creaminess of it spread over her tongue.

He turned to the oven with the plate of chicken in hand. He put both the meat and the asparagus over a low flame in a wide skillet. Soon the gentle scent of basil chicken wafted to her nostrils and made her mouth water. As the chicken and asparagus warmed, Thomas found a bottle of champagne in the fridge and popped it.