Alchemy and Algebra

Chapter 3

Charlie stood in his kitchen, which was no less bright after the sun went down, standing at the stove wearing jeans and an apron. He'd started cooking topless, but decided that bare skin and sizzling bacon were a poor combination. Without a second's hesitation or bashfulness, he'd taken the sensible step of slipping an army-green apron decorated with the face of Che Guevara over his head.

"Cuba?" Kennedy asked.

Charlie looked at her questioningly for a moment, then understanding lit his face and he glanced down at his apron.

"Oh! No, this was San Francisco." He ran a hand across the back of his neck. "There was a shop with a pretty girl at the counter, and I was kind of spending a lot of time there, so figured I should buy something."

"And the girl?" Kennedy asked, waggling her eyebrows.

Charlie gave a bark of laughter. "Yeah, I took her out a couple times. I was only in town for a few days, though, so it didn't go anywhere."

"She'll never know what she was missing."

"Just because it didn't go anywhere doesn't mean it didn't go anywhere."

Charlie winked at Kennedy, then turned to attend to the two frying pans on the stove, the smell of bacon and eggs and hot butter driving Kennedy nuts.

"So picking up women and sleeping with them right off the bat is a specialty of yours, then?" Kennedy kept her tone light, but felt a surprising pull of loss at the thought that, though Charlie was a twice-a-degree treat for her, she could be completely forgotten by him by the end of the week.

"The evidence is against me here, but, actually, no, I don't."

Charlie crossed the small kitchen in two long strides, bent down and kissed Kennedy deeply, holding the back of her neck just below her recently re-done ponytail.

When he broke the kiss, Kennedy was breathless and Charlie had that roguish grin on his face again.

"If we keep that up, I'm going to burn the bacon," he murmured.

Kennedy was on the verge of telling him to damn the bacon and do the girl when he spun away from her and took two plates from the kitchen cupboard. Toast popped just as he turned off the stove, and a moment later, he returned to the table with two egg-and-bacon sandwiches, piled high with lettuce and fresh, local tomatoes. Kennedy bit into hers gratefully.

After eating in companionable silence for a few bites, Kennedy asked, "Why is it that putting eggs and bacon between the bread makes lunch, or dinner, but putting the bread beside the eggs makes breakfast?"

"You've got me there," Charlie mumbled around a mouthful of sandwich.

A baroque-style wall clock over the stove chimed the hour. Charlie turned to read the clock and startled.

"Is that the time? I gotta go downstairs for a second."

Charlie got up from the table and pulled his apron off, flinging it over an empty kitchen chair. He turned to face Kennedy. His torso was now bare, and the bright lights of the kitchen made him look like a precious artwork, carefully displayed. He had narrow hips and a flat belly with just enough hair dipping below the waistband of his jeans to point the way to the good stuff. His upper chest was muscled enough that he was defined, but not so much that Kennedy suspected him of being a vain gym rat.

She tried to picture Charlie posing in front of a gym mirror and flexing for his own camera, and failed. Whatever he did to keep in shape, that wasn't it.

Charlie headed for the stairs. "I won't be long." He looked back at her expectantly. Yeah, she'd leave her dinner for a few minutes to follow a hot shirtless guy around.