"Leftover shrimp creole." I looked at him over my shoulder. He was only an inch away.

His lips curled up. He frowned and shook his head.

"I can make you a steak," I said while staring at his lips.

"Sounds good," he said.

I straightened slowly. It had to be slow because he was so close to me that I would have bumped into him. I concentrated on the task at hand—cooking a steak. There were rib-eyes in the freezer. We kept plenty of meat around because it ...