She bit into another slice of avocado and watched him. “Are we celebrating?” She didn’t see anything worthy of such at the moment.

Thomas only lifted a brow, theatrically shot his cuffs and then poured a few drops of the Veuve Clicquot into an oyster.

Isabelle curled her lip and tossed the half-eaten slice of avocado to her plate. “Ugh. That is such a waste of good champagne.”

He rested his elbow on the counter, oyster in hand, and leaned toward her. “You don’t know what you’re missing.” His voice rolled over her, satiny smooth and low.

Her gaze found his mouth when he lifted the oyster to his lips, lingered on the curve of his lips. As he tipped the small shell to partake of the dubious delicacy, she wished for a moment she were the oyster. Then the slimy bit was gone and he wore a rapturous expression on his face, head thrown back, eyes closed, dark hair cascading down his back.

Oh, yeah.

She closed her mouth and managed to stop drooling before he opened his eyes and looked at her. “I never thought you were afraid of trying new things. Are you sure you don’t want one?”

She bit her lip for a moment. “Hand one over, but if I puke on your five-hundred dollar shoes, I was coerced, so don’t sue me.”

He laughed low as he prepared one for her. That laugh was a silky, dangerous thing and it made her shiver. She barely noticed when he handed her the half shell and came to stand beside her.

“How should I eat it?”

“Let it lie on your tongue for a moment, just a moment, then allow it to slide down your throat.”

She studied it for a moment, and then decided staring at it was a bad idea. Pretty, it was not. “Down the hatch.” She tipped her head back and slurped it between her lips.

It filled her mouth, cool, champagne-laced and mildly fishy, before she allowed it to ease down her throat. Like him, she found her head falling back on a mmmmm of surprised culinary delight.

She opened her eyes to find him studying her intently. “Good?”

Isabelle pursed her lips and chose her words. “Unique. Interesting. Complex. Definitely unforgettable.”

His eyes went heavy-lidded and he reached out to wipe a bit of juice from the corner of her mouth. “Sounds like someone I know.”

Before she’d even known she’d done it, she’d taken his hand and licked his finger. His eyes went darker immediately, the pupils growing larger, and his luscious lips parting. They stood there for a moment in the semidarkness of the kitchen and held each other’s gazes.

The chicken on the stove popped and sizzled.

She blinked, breaking herself away from the intimate moment. “Dinner’s burning.”

He made a low, frustrated sound and backed away.