Christmas in the Kitchen Read Free

the best banana cake? I have some ripe bananas.”
    “In fact,” Talin said from the other side of the counter, reaching out to tap Clay on the nose with her mixing spoon, “how about a contest? Dorian versus Clay.”
    Kit and Jon, having turned to listen, gave the thumbs up. “We volunteer to judge,” they said magnanimously.
    “You think I can’t bake a cake?” Clay said to his mate, a glint in his eye.
    Talin’s cheeks creased, the freckles on the golden skin of her face adding to the mischief in her expression. “I think you’ll kick Dorian’s pretty butt.” She blew Clay a kiss that had the other sentinel’s lips curving.
    “While I agree with your assessment of Dorian’s body,” Ashaya said mock-solemnly as she played her fingers through Dorian’s hair in a way that made a purr vibrate in his chest, “I must disagree with the rest of your statement.” His scientist leaned in close, all soft curves and warm femininity. “My mate will leave yours in his baking dust.”
    “I think that’s a challenge,” Kit said, a little bit of the hellion he’d been back in his voice.
    “Way I hear it,” Jon added, “sentinels never back down from a challenge.”
    ~
    Three hours later, Dorian clinked beer bottles with Clay as they stood outside the house, and said, “It wasn’t too rubbery. Truly.”
    “And yours didn’t have too much salt,” Clay replied, loyal to the bone.
    Looking at one another, they started to laugh, the sound carrying through the air to where the children played and their mates sat talking. Kit and Jon were gone—Kit had taken the boy with him as he continued on to his watch position, the teenager looking up to the young soldier, but they’d promised to return for dinner.
    “I think,” Dorian said when he could breathe again, “we should give the judges big slices for dessert.”
    “Serve the smartasses right for egging us on.” Clay took a drink of his beer. “That was a cruel and unusual death for those bananas.”
    “You’re one to talk—what the hell did you do to the chocolate? I think Shaya and Talin are still in mourning.”
    That sat them off again, until they ended up sitting on the ground, beers hanging from their fingertips.
    When Ashaya turned to smile at him over her shoulder, the mating bond a wild brilliance inside him, Dorian knew that while baking and plumbing might not be on his resume, in one thing he was and would always be an expert: Loving Shaya.
    (c) Copyright 2012 by Nalini Singh