"Can you blame me?" Emma asked, fluttering her lashes at him outrageously. "Especially when I have such pretty worshipers."

For her part, she pulled open the fridge to rummage around. "For once, the girls stayed out of my stash of nice cheeses, and it looks like there's some prosciutto left. Maybe a red?"

They were being ridiculously domestic, and Emma was adoring every moment of it.