Ned placed the plate before her with a flourish, and she looked up at him. He was grinning.
"Looks very nice, Nickerson," Nancy said, her hands still in her lap, resting on the oversized white paper napkin.
"Oh, you haven't seen anything yet."
She chuckled silently when he vanished, returning a moment later with a plate of cheesy garlic toast, baked to a perfect crispy golden-brown at the edges. He placed it between them, then reached for the bottle of wine and raised his eyebrows.
She hesitated.
"Plausible deniability."
She quirked her mouth. "One glass," she conceded.
He didn't fill the glass to the brim, but it was at least three-quarters full. Acting on impulse, she raised it to click against his own, and that proud grin returned.
"Congratulations."
"Thanks." He chuckled as he glanced down at his own plate of spaghetti in meat tomato sauce, topped with a dusting of freshly grated parmesan.
"Mmm?"
"This was always going to be the first meal I made here, for you."
"Oh?"
He nodded. "Of course."
"Why?" There was no special significance between them about spaghetti, at least one that wasn't tied up in one of her cases. Pizza, of course. Grilled chicken... well, she wasn't going to bring that up. His mood was too good.
His eyes were wide, his fork paused in the act of twirling together spaghetti noodles. "I never told you?"
"I guess not." She smiled.
"So, I was... fifteen. Leo, this guy in my class, was talking about what he was going to make for his mother for Mother's Day, and it was... insane. Caesar salad, standing rib roast, I think... anyway. And he was the coolest guy. Everyone thought he was amazing."
"Fifteen?" Nancy started twirling her own fork. "Pretty ambitious. And... he was cool?"
"Oh yes."
Nancy made a brief gesture, and Ned chuckled. "No. But he was a ringer, I figured out. His dad is the head chef at Chez Louis."
"Damn."
Ned paused to take a bite and nodded. "So I talked Dad into letting me make dinner for Mother's Day."
Nancy coughed, unable to control herself. By the time she trusted herself to look into Ned's face, his own expression was almost sardonic. "Yeah, Drew, I can read your mind, and yes. I know. Don't even."
Nancy coughed again and wiped her mouth. "I think it's very sweet," she said, but then chuckled.
"Yeah. It was pretty much the opposite."
"You made spaghetti?"
"Attempted, anyway. It was a disaster." Ned chuckled, and Nancy finally gave in and laughed. "Mom came in and... well, she took one look at it and gave me this smile. 'Honey, you have to stir the noodles while they're boiling.'"
Nancy covered her mouth. "You didn't?"
"No! While they were boiling, they looked like they were moving around, so I stirred them once. And I didn't have enough water in the pot, either, apparently, so they were... yeah, inedible."
"Oh, Ned."
"Yeah. I had the heat turned up too high under the sauce, and it burned to the bottom of the pan. The garlic bread... I didn't know it could literally catch on fire. I thought that was just a TV thing."
Nancy had given up all pretense and was holding her stomach as she laughed, her eyes streaming. Ned was giving her a mock outraged look when she finally met his eyes again.
"Uh-huh. No second helping for you."
She gave him a wide grin. "Well, you certainly seemed to have figured it out since then."
"Yeah. It's not really that hard." He twirled his fork again. "So you like it?"
"Very much."
"And the apartment?"
"It's great. You made a great choice."
He swallowed his next bite. "So, what if I tell you that I have a roll of chocolate chip cookie dough in the refrigerator?"
Nancy grinned. "A home-cooked dinner, wine, and dessert. Why, Mr. Nickerson, are you trying to seduce me?"
He took a sip from his wine glass as she took one from hers. "Only if you want me to."
Her eyes were sparkling as her gaze met his again. "If there are some perfectly-baked golden-brown cookies in my future, you won't have to seduce me."
"Those are some pretty high stakes, sweetheart."
"Don't worry." She tried to hide her smile, but failed utterly. "I'll be the one baking them."