The smell of roasted turkey filled the house, and I inhaled deeply, my mouth salivating. Turkey, turkey, turkey. Can you tell this is one of my all time favorite things to eat. We weren't expecting anyone else so had not bothered will all the trimmings. There was just the marvelous 19 pound bird and dinner rolls plus a couple pies for desert. I padded out to the kitchen to uncork the white zinfandel and pour a glass. As I rounded the corner through the dining area, someone unexpected caught my eye.

A man stood there, preparing to carve the turkey with some unusual looking instruments. My eyebrows shot towards my hairline.

"Oh, no, you're not using those!" I told the new arrival. "No telling how many nasty ass mercs those have cut through. We do have proper knives."

A smirk curved his full lips as he put his curved shivs away. Now that my turkey was no longer in any danger, I moved past him into the kitchen. My heart was pounding rapidly and not because of fear. I took the carving set from the block and handed it over to him. He took them without a word and began to expertly carve the flesh from the bird.

I turned my back on him and reached for the wine bottle and the corkscrew. I took a deep steadying breath then asked, "Where is…"

"Gym," he rumbled, not waiting for me to finish my question.

"Did he see you?"

"Yes."

I felt heat rush to my cheeks, and my hands shook as I attempted to uncork the bottle. Nervous as a fucking schoolgirl. Damn it. Get a grip will you? The corkscrew skipped, and the tip caught my finger.

"Fuck!" I swore then sucked at the blood.

I heard his deep chuckle right behind me and tensed. His chest pressed lightly against my back, and his hands came around me to take the bottle and corkscrew. "Need some help with that?"

"Um, yeah, thanks."

"Least I can do."

He deftly opened the bottle without standing back from me. I saw him raise the bottle past my field of vision and heard him swallow a couple of times. I remembered the image of him draining a syrah and just about melted into my socks. He set the bottle down considerably lighter than it had been. I wrapped my hand around the bottle and swigged down some wine as well. If anytime seemed like a time for liquid courage, this was it. Good thing I have half a case. His presence was gone from behind me as I set the wine down.

I pulled the other bottles out and put them on the counter, just in case. I turned and saw him seated at the table, watching me. I couldn't help but stare. I couldn't see his eyes behind the dark lensed goggles, but I knew what they looked like. And then there was all that golden muscle…damn, but he was built like a brick shit house. No idea how he got here or why he came and really didn't give a damn, even if I was about to give myself a stroke.

"Joining me for dinner?" he asked in that voice of his that made my knees weak.

I nodded and came over to the table with the wine, the open bottle and a spare one. I had the feeling it would be needed. I sat down and we both tore into the turkey like veritable savages, neither of us bothering with flatware and passing the wine back and forth. He opened the second bottle once the first was empty.

I'm going to blame the wine for what happened as the 'meal' was winding down. I just couldn't help the words coming out of my mouth or the lascivious smile I had while I said them. "You staying for desert?"

"Depends," he answered cryptically.

"On what?"

"You're not afraid of the dark are you?"

In answer, I got up and turned off all the lights. The only illumination was from the moonlight streaming through the windows. He must have lifted his goggles while my back was turned as I could now see the silvery shine of his eyes. I saw them rise and come towards me.

"I think I'll have that desert now," he said just before crushing his mouth to mine.