"Sorry, let me get this straight. You invited her over tomorrow? You do realize that tomorrow's Valentine's Day, right?" Sirius balks, pacing the floor of James's sitting room.

"Yes, I'm well aware of that now. I mean, I was at the time too, but I wasn't thinking straight. There's just something about her—"

"Could the James Potter be falling for a woman? If that's the case, can I join you tomorrow? I need to meet her."

"Sirius," James warns.

"Indeed I am! Ha, get it? This could be good for you. Even if you asked her out on the worst possible day of the year."

"She knows it's just a friendly invitation. Hell, five minutes before she implied I'd bought the sweets for Dora tomorrow."

"But they were for Dora, weren't they?" Sirius asks, despite opening one of the boxes and pulling out a cupcake for himself whilst earning a glare from James.

"Yes, but not in that way."

James waits for Sirius to catch on to what he's saying. When he does, the cupcake nearly slips out of his hand in surprise before he loses himself to laughter.

"She thought—you and Dora—oh, come on, Prongs, this is hilarious!" Sirius gasps for air in an attempt to formulate a sentence.

James rolls his eyes at the nickname Sirius began using to poke fun at his pointed, stoic demeanor, but has to admit that the entire situation is a bit comical. Eye-opening too. He'd been wondering why she'd been so cold to him, but now it made sense. At least, it explained her comments at the restaurant and maybe why she'd been so sour when they ran into her in the square. No, the square was all because of what she overheard, which reminds him that he has yet to apologize for that.

"So, what? Are you going to try and woo her with your baking and then take her to bed tomorrow?" Sirius asks after he's calmed down from his laughing fit.

"Absolutely not. You just said yourself that it's Valentine's Day! That would be a bit crass, don't you think?"

"I was just asking! So, where are these tarts you've made to woo the lady over?"

James bites his tongue; he was hoping Sirius wouldn't ask about them. That was wishful thinking, though, since Sirius never wasted an opportunity to sneak a taste of James's latest creations.

"You just nicked one of Dora's cupcakes. Is your sweet tooth that insatiable?"

"And you know I never pass up taste testing any of your baked goods. Now, cough it up. Where is it?" Sirius reaches over to open the refrigerator.

"It's not in there," James mumbles.

"Why not?"

"I, er, haven't made them yet," he admits while running a hand through his hair.

"You haven't—what? Prongs! What's gotten into you?"

Lily Evans, obviously.

Other than that, he's not sure. The question flew out of his mouth before he'd even processed the idea. She was so adamant about getting away from him, but James wasn't ready to let her out of his grasp, not when a second chance fell right into his lap. So, he used the only thing he could think of. After his chat with the manager and learning that Lily loves making custards, he extended an invitation in the hopes of spending more time together.

"I don't know," he lies, "that's why I extended the invitation for tomorrow. So I have time to whip something up. I know what I want to make, I just haven't found the time to make it."

"That's a shame. Maybe I'll just have to come back tomorrow. You'll need an extra taste tester, right?"

"Don't even think about it. And keep your brother away, too, while you're at it. She already despises me enough, and I don't need you or Regulus making that worse."

"Make it worse? James, you wound me. When have I ever made things worse for you? I could talk you up so well that this Evans woman will be swooning after you by the time I'm done."

James laughs. "As intrigued as I am to see you succeed, it's still a firm no. Let me handle it."

"Whatever you say, Prongs. Whatever you say."

Twelve steps. That's how many steps it takes for James to cross the length of his study. And by this point, those twelve steps have multiplied into the thousands due to his pacing. Perhaps he should have taken his shoes off to at least lessen the wear on the carpet from his nervous strides.

James has been pacing for thirty minutes. He's acutely aware of the seconds ticking by from the clock on the wall as the minute hand inches closer and closer to the twelve and the hour hand hovers just before the two, taunting him to the point where he thinks the battery is dead. Ever since he put the finishing touches on his tart last night, pouring the honey vanilla custard over the peanut butter crust, James has been on edge.

The lack of sleep came back with a vengeance, allowing him a few hours of fitful slumber before he woke at four in the morning, unable to fall back asleep. Questions and doubts filled his mind. Did she only accept his invitation out of pity? What if she never showed up? How had he not given any thought to the fact that it's Valentine's Day?

Getting up and busying himself did nothing to quell the doubt in his mind as he'd hoped. Instead, the hours dragged on, slower than ever, despite his making a grand breakfast for Dora and Filius and insisting on cleaning everything up by himself. Spending forty-five minutes deciding what to wear hadn't even brought two o'clock any closer!

James observes himself in the mirror that hangs on the wall across from his desk. Jeans and a dark red sweater. Dressy enough to appear well put-together for an afternoon in a beautiful woman's company, but casual enough to imply that it's not a date. Now, if only he could convince his brain of that too.

A knock on the door snaps his head from the spot near the window to the door. Is she here? Was he so lost in thought that he missed the doorbell?

"Come in."

The door opens, and Dora bounces into the room, decked out in reds and pinks of every shade in celebration of the holiday.

"Is she here yet?"

"What do you think?" James scowls.

"I'm sorry, I'm just so excited! I thought you would be too. Why do you look like you've got a bee in your bonnet?"

"Oh, I don't know. Because I invited over the one woman in the world who seems to hate me, and now I'm second-guessing the invitation?"

"Stop being so dramatic, will you? She said yes, didn't she? And it's too late to back out now."

"I'm aware, thanks."

"I can always hang around if you don't want to be left alone with her…" Dora wiggles her eyebrows at James as she lets her voice trail off. Much to his chagrin, her teasing tactics are working.

"Nice try. I'll be fine. Your job is to do whatever it is you normally do on a Sunday afternoon."

"I know, that's why I asked Sirius to take me to the movies. There's this wonderful rom-com that just came out that I've been dying to see." Dora twirls around the room in an effort to expel some of her excited energy, sending her red and white skirt billowing out from the speed.

Dora's enthusiasm elicits a chuckle from James. He's got to admit, she's a mastermind when it comes to manipulation. Sometimes he thinks she's got Sirius wrapped even tighter around her finger than himself.

"I'm sure that's exactly what Sirius wanted to do today. Well done."

"Thanks, but it wasn't just me. It was two against one. You know I can't stand Reg, but for once, he was on my side. I think he thinks you're going too."

James grunts in frustration. "I'm not sure why he would care about my attendance."

Dora giggles at James's annoyance, "I'm sure it's not too late if you and Lily wanted to join."

"Very funny."

"Anyway, I was just coming here to tell you that Filius is going to drop me off at the cinema. That way, Sirius will bring Reg and keep him out of your hair."

"Brilliant." James notes the sarcasm in his voice when the response is sincere. At least he can rest easy knowing that he and Evans won't be interrupted by anyone. Not that it would matter if they did, but he'd just rather go without dealing with Regulus's ridiculous tactics today.

And every day, really.

"Make sure Filius knows what time to pick you up as well."

"Will do. I better go finish getting ready!" Dora flounces back toward the door but pauses before she takes her leave. "Oh, and James?"

"Yes?"

"Remember to garnish the custards!"

"Shit!"

How could he have forgotten? He's spent the entire morning dicking around only to give himself—he checks the clock again—two minutes before Evans is due to arrive! His strides are longer than usual as he makes a beeline straight to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to pull out the large tart pan and the pre-sliced strawberries he prepped the night before.

Taking the largest and ripest three slices in the container, James positions them on the outer edge of the tart before placing the rest back in the fridge. It looks clean and impeccable, but something is lacking. After staring at the dessert a moment longer, James knows exactly what it needs. He heads to the pantry and grabs the cocoa powder and powdered sugar, mixing equal parts of the two together.

Just before he's about to sprinkle a dusting over the tart, James pauses and returns back to the pantry. Against his better judgment, he grabs the edible gold glitter and mixes some in with the cocoa and sugar. Satisfied with the last-minute addition, he sprinkles a fine layer over the tart.

"Brilliant."

James finishes putting the extra garnish away when the doorbell rings.

Perfect timing.

He's about to head to the door, but Filius beats him. Allowing the butler to take care of welcoming his guest, he readjusts the position of the tart on the counter and reaches into the cupboard to pull out two dessert plates and forks. On a whim, he chooses a bottle of Riesling from the wine cooler and selects two glasses to add to the set-up.

"...right through this way," James catches the tail-end of Filius's explanation.

He looks up to see Filius come into view with Evans trailing behind. James's breath hitches in his throat, and he hopes it isn't audible. Her dark auburn hair is pulled to one side and done up in a casual loose braid that falls over her shoulder. She's wearing a pastel pink cashmere sweater and jeans, which helps him feel more relaxed about his own attire.

"Thank you, Mr… um—" Lily bites her lip, pausing because she doesn't know how to address the butler.

"Please, call me Filius," he responds with a slight squeak.

"Right. Thank you, Filius."

"Of course, Miss Evans. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be off. Dora has requested I drive her to the cinema." He turns to James next. "I trust she's informed you of her plans?"

James nods. "Yes, she has. Thanks for taking her, Fil."

Filius gives a slight bow before excusing himself from the kitchen.

"Miss Evans," James greets Lily, now that they're the only two left in the room.

"Mr. Potter," she responds with the smallest hint of amusement crossing her face, as if she's let in on a tiny secret that she's not surprised about in the least. "I didn't realize you had a butler. How very posh."

"He's much more than a butler, Miss Evans. Filius is a close family friend," James explains, sensing a hint of vexation in her tone. "You're more than welcome to come and have a seat, you know. Would you like some wine?"

James gestures to one of the bar stools that he pulls out for her but waits for her confirmation about the wine before opening the bottle.

"Sure," she agrees as she walks around the far side of the island to take a seat. "This is a beautiful kitchen."

"Thank you. It's where I spend a good portion of my time. I'd say the majority, but that prize goes to my study."

Lily shoots him a quizzical look as he pours the wine into a glass and slides it over to her. "Work from home, do you? What is it you do again? Count your money?"

James nearly spills the second glass of wine he's pouring. He's not sure whether to laugh or be appalled by her insinuation. Setting the bottle down, he takes a sip of wine before letting humor win.

"You scoff, but have you ever tried it? It's rather exhausting if you must know. Takes days to even reach the million mark, and by that time, funds have readjusted, and I have to start over. And God forbid I lose count. That's just a nightmare when that happens."

He waves the wine glass in the air to animate his explanation as he speaks. Evans's lip quirks and he wonders if she's purposefully trying not to laugh.

"I'm so sorry. I can't even fathom such hardships life throws at you." She rolls her eyes, which James wishes is playful, but he doesn't miss the icy coolness that drips from her words.

He suppresses the urge to prove her wrong about his lack of hardships but decides now is not the time or place. He has nothing to prove to this woman.

"Everyone walks a different path, I suppose."

His response has drawn out the reaction he hoped for. Her eyebrows crinkle just a touch, drawing them in as she tries to make sense of his statement. James waits to see if she has a retort, but instead of challenging his gaze, her eyes drift to the layout on the counter, and he takes that as his cue.

"Shall we dig in so you can assess the damage?" He reaches for the pie cutter and slides the tart closer to him.

"Sure. What have you come up with? I hope you didn't lure me over here on Valentine's Day for a standard vanilla custard tart," she quips.

"You always had the option to decline my offer if you had another engagement instead."

"Oh, please. Do you have to be so prim and proper all the time? 'Another engagement.' Pfft. Just call it a date like a normal person."

"Very well. Did you pass up a hot date to spend the afternoon with me?" James plays into her annoyance with ease even as his heart constricts at the thought of her going out with someone else.

Why does it matter? She's not yours, and it was rich of you to assume she doesn't have a significant other to begin with.

Evans crosses her arms over her chest. "Maybe not this afternoon, but I could have one tonight."

"Do you?"

"No."

"I see."

Another wave of relief. James feels as if he's riding a roller coaster with the way his emotions are whiplashing around. From nerves to excitement, contentedness to frustration, before settling on chuffed. Why is he drawn to the one woman who drives him crazy?

She bites her damn lip again, and all James can focus on is forgetting everything and kissing her within an inch of her life. But he can't. He must be a gentleman, especially when she's shown no further interest in him other than joining him today.

"So...the tart?"

"Yes, the tart. I can assure you it's not a simple vanilla custard as you've suggested. The crust is peanut butter, and the custard is infused with both vanilla and honey. I've chosen to garnish with sliced strawberries and a dusting of powdered sugar, cocoa, and—"

"Glitter." The way the word rolls over her tongue is an equal mixture of disgust and surprise. "I thought the renowned Mr. Potter doesn't approve of edible glitter to brighten a presentation."

There's a challenge in her emerald eyes, and this time, James has no intentions of backing down. He cuts a perfect triangle and sets it on one of the plates. Grabbing a fork, he places the dish in front of her as he sits on the stool to her left.

"Ah, but on the contrary, Miss Evans, in certain circumstances, I very much approve. I can do without it for whimsical purposes, but when it can enhance the sophistication of a dish, it is by all means amenable." James holds her gaze during his entire explanation and refuses to look away until she responds.

"Sounds awfully hypocritical of you, Mr. Potter." Her lip turns up to form a coy smile, and he feels a twinge inside his jeans. "Don't worry, I'll keep it classy today and refrain from any accidental flashing."

James freezes in shock, unable to comprehend her brazenness for a split second as the only image his mind can conjure is her bending over in front of him and revealing his own personal show. Could she think—no, there's no way, but he better clarify just to be sure.

"You know that's not why I invited you over today, I hope."

The coy smile widens to a more genuine one. A smile that reaches her eyes and makes them sparkle with satisfaction.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. I'm just teasing you. Please don't tell me you're one of those men who can give but won't take."

James feels the tightness of the muscles in his back and neck ease up.

"Have you met the teenager whose care I'm responsible for? I can assure you I can take it. And please, call me James. I think we're past the formal bit by now."

"Only if you call me Lily."

James holds out his hand to shake on the deal, and Lily reaches out to meet it.

"Deal."

When her hand closes around his, a warmth spreads through his body that James isn't expecting. He's shaken countless hands in his life, but none have had this effect on him. After she pulls away, it feels like a piece of him is missing, which is ridiculous considering it was a simple handshake.

James is so focused on the lack of contact that he almost misses Lily take her first bite of the custard. Her lips close around the fork in slow motion as her eyes flutter shut. It's one of the most sensual things James has ever seen, but he forces himself not to revel in the attraction of it all. Otherwise, he'll have an even bigger problem on his hands.

"Well?" he dares to ask once she's finished her taste.

With a contemplative look, Lily dives into her review. "The flavors pair well together. Adding peanut butter to the crust was a smart move since the nuttiness cuts the sweetness of the honey. But I'll be honest, the custard is a touch too dense."

"Fair enough," James accepts her criticism, knowing he might have run into that issue when adding the honey.

"Consistency is always challenging when it comes to custard. It's a fine balance between keeping the eggs from curdling and using the right kind of milk so that it sets properly, especially with the addition of other flavors." Lily pauses and looks at James before apologizing, "I'm sorry, I'm rambling. I'm sure you already know all of this from culinary school and—"

"Actually, I didn't go to culinary school."

The silence that fills the air between them hangs as heavy as a lead balloon. Lily's eyes bug out of her head, and her jaw drops. "You didn't—? But how? Then what qualifies you to be a judge and to run Gourmet Gloucester? I mean, I know there are some home chefs and bakers out there who have risen to the top, but—"

James cuts her off as he reaches out and places a hand on her arm. "I'm going to pretend I'm not offended by your confusion since I can understand where you're coming from. My business and finance degree helped me combine my profession with my passion." He waits for a beat, allowing the first part to sink in before he divulges the bombshell that he knows she's not expecting. "And winning Junior Bake-Off at the age of fourteen also helped my credibility."

This time, it's James's turn to plant a victorious smirk on his face as Lily gapes in shock.

"You—you were on Junior Bake-Off? And you won?"

"Would you like to see the trophy? Or we can retire to the sitting room and watch the season, though I'd rather not if you don't mind. I already lived the gangly early teenage years once."

"No, I trust your word. I'm sorry that I accused you of being an amateur."

"No apologies necessary, Evans. If you want to get technical, I am an amateur. Hence why I asked for your expertise."

"Well, you hardly need it. Just maybe leave out the cocoa next time. It detracted from the honey."

"But I can keep the glitter?"

Lily laughs at his question, surprising James, as she agrees. "You can keep the glitter."

Finally, it seems like we're on the same page.

James cuts another slice for himself this time and takes a bite while he notices Lily zone out, presumably getting lost in her thoughts. As soon as the flavor profile hits his tongue, he understands exactly what she means about the cocoa. It's not altogether unpleasant, but it doesn't enhance the other flavors in the way he was hoping.

"You know, I think you've inspired me to try a new tart recipe after trying this. Not that I'm trying to one-up you, of course…" Lily trails off, a smug look on her face.

"Oh? Why do I get the feeling that what you're saying and what you're going to do is the complete opposite."

Her face splits into a conniving grin. "Maybe it's because I have a terrible competitive side and want to show you how true flavor infusion is done."

"Getting a little ahead of ourselves, don't you think? Haven't I already succumbed to your flavor prowess and dubbed you the custard queen? You don't need to rub my subpar flavor combination in my face," he teases.

"What? No! I didn't—While I'm flattered about the title, you've yet to try any of my custards."

"So, you're saying you want to earn it?"

"Yes."

"Well, what are you waiting for?" James gets up and begins gathering ingredients for a standard custard, placing them on the island in front of Lily.

"What? No, I couldn't possibly use your things to—"

James waves her off. "You don't have to, but I'm offering. Besides, I'd love to see the custard queen at work. Show me how it's done."

"Are you sure?"

"Do you think I'd be pulling all of this out if I wasn't? What am I missing?"

Lily observes the spread and taps her chin with her finger as she thinks. "A lot, actually."

"Care to elaborate?"

"I want to reimagine a former take I made on a peanut butter and jelly tart."

"As in the American classic?"

"The one and only."

"Colour me intrigued."

"Well, before I did something similar with the peanut butter crust, and then added a simple vanilla custard with raspberries inside. That was my one and only time incorporating fruit in the custard and...never again," she shakes her head and shudders.

"I have to agree with you. There's something about the texture that's off-putting. Not to mention it doesn't look appetizing at all."

"Exactly! So anyway, your honey infusion got me thinking. I'll make a chocolate biscuit crumb base and a standard vanilla custard but infuse it with peanut butter whiskey—"

"Peanut butter whiskey? Such a thing exists?"

"It does! I stumbled upon it a while back when I was out with Mary and Marlene. I've already picked up a bottle at Tesco so Mona and Howard can try it, but I digress. To finish out the PB&J, I'll do a raspberry jam drizzle over the top."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Shall we get started?"

"We?"

"Do you think I'm going to sit back and watch you work?"

"I'm not sure. We'll need a few extra ingredients."

"That's no problem. I can run to Waitrose to get anything I don't have if you want to grab that bottle of whiskey from Mona's?"

"Is Tesco not good enough for you?"

"I'm sorry?"

Lily shakes her head, forgoing an explanation. "Nevermind. I can grab it all. You're doing me more of a favor by letting me use this amazing kitchen." Lily stands and begins to make her way back toward the front door. "I'll be back in twenty, maybe a little longer?"

"Sure. I'll get everything else together."

"Brilliant!"

James walks her to the door, and for a moment, worries that she's going to leave and not return. The doubt trickles in his mind like a babbling brook, and he's unable to stop the seeds of doubt from planting, even despite her wide grin and promise to be back soon. He spends the entire time she's gone pacing back and forth—again—from the kitchen to the front door, checking to see if she's on her way back.

It's ridiculous, he knows, given that they're only starting to get to know each other, but he can't shake the feeling of excitement that their taste-testing has expanded into the entire afternoon. When the doorbell rings again, James forces himself not to run to the door. He welcomes Lily back in, taking the large plastic bag from her arms.

"Did you buy the whole store?"

"Hardly! But I needed to make sure I had everything. There are specific brands and ingredients I prefer to use, after all."

"So you're saying my pantry stock isn't suitable for you?"

"Maybe, maybe not. If I'm trying to create a superior custard, I can't possibly rely on your ingredients."

"Whatever you say, Evans."

"What happened to our first name basis?"

James shrugs, "Evans rolls off the tongue a bit easier, don't you think?"

"It's fitting, I suppose. Now, what do you say we get started, Potter?"

The way she says Potter thrills James. He never realized how much of an impact his surname could have when falling off the tongue of a certain gorgeous, spunky redhead. They set to work after unloading the bags. James lets Lily take the lead on the recipe, setting up the food processor to mix the crust ingredients first. He offers to roll the crust out in the mini tart pans so she can get started on the custard, and as she's stirring the mixture with a watchful eye, he hands her ingredients to help avoid the disruption of the process.

The way they move in tandem surprises James, as if they've been working together for years even though it's their first time in the kitchen together. When he's not anticipating Lily's next step, he finds himself watching her every move, memorizing the way she purses her lips and narrows her eyes when adding the eggs and hoping they don't curdle as she continuously whisks the concoction.

He almost misses her question about the tart pans being ready as he's so focused on the way she scrunches her nose as the custard reaches the correct consistency. After she pours the custard in even layers over each of the tarts, Lily advises James to cover them with plastic wrap before letting them chill in the fridge.

"It'll help avoid the layer of skin that sometimes develops if left uncovered."

"You may find it hard to believe, but I did know that."

"I figured I'd mention it just in case. Now that they are chilling, we can make the raspberry sauce."

"I thought you were going to use jam?" James asks as Lily begins pulling fresh raspberries out of the refrigerator.

"I was, but then I started thinking about it in the store and decided fresher is better."

James nods, knowing she makes a good point. After she mixes the berries with lemon juice and powdered sugar, he helps her strain the seeds and transfer the remains into a bottle to drizzle. As Lily begins pulling the mini tarts out to add the finishing touches, James makes the suggestion that's been weighing on his mind.

"I know I haven't tasted anything yet, but you should offer this in the shop this week if it turns out well."

Lily shoots him a contemplative look that mirrors some hesitancy. "I don't know. Mona doesn't do a lot of alcohol-infused selections."

"But that's why you're here, isn't it? To reimagine the menu?"

"I suppose."

"What if you brought one home for her when we're done. You can see what she thinks before you pitch the idea."

"That might work," Lily agrees. She's nodding her head absently at his suggestion but then stops and peers up at him as though she's about to make an accusation. "Why are you being so supportive?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know." She places her hands on her hips now and juts her jaw out as she thinks. "In our past run-ins, you've given me the strict impression that you don't like me. That I'm a waste of your time, and you can't stand the mere thought of being in my presence, yet yesterday you invited me here, and what was meant to be a simple taste test has turned into an afternoon of recipe experiments."

"Are you complaining?"

"No. I was hoping for an explanation."

Once again, James has somehow managed to say or do the wrong thing, and he can sense her icy demeanor returning as she grabs the bottle and begins to drizzle the raspberry sauce over the tarts in a zig-zag pattern.

He doesn't dare say anything that may disrupt her decoration flow and is startled when her voice cuts through the radio silence that weighs down the kitchen.

"Do you have a toothpick?"

James nods, opening the drawer to retrieve what she's asking for and hands a few to her. He looks on as she drags the toothpick in delicate straight lines, spreading the drizzle ever so slightly to create an intricate marbled effect that creates a geometric pattern. The end result is stunning, and James knows even without tasting it that if she'd created that for the Belfast Bake-Off, she would have won, hands down.

"There," she mumbles as she gives the final swipe with the toothpick. "What do you think?"

"Stunning" James replies, but he's not staring at the desserts anymore.

Lily rearranges five tarts in the center of the island, situating them next to James's vanilla honey tart from earlier before sitting down with the sixth tart. James pulls out one spoon from the drawer and sits down next to her. Before he hands her the utensil, he attempts to clear the air.

"You must know that I don't despise you."

Lily scoffs as she pulls the spoon out of his hand. "Why else would you call me unexceptional then?"

James winces at the word that he's tried to suppress deep within the confines of his subconscious. "I meant to apologize for that."

"As if you haven't had ample opportunities to do so?"

James bites back a scowl. She certainly doesn't make apologizing easy. "If you must know, when Dora and I ran into you at the market, I tried, but you took off before I had the chance."

Lily sits there, staring at him and waiting for him to say something else.

"I do not think you are unexceptional. Quite the opposite, actually. You intrigue me far more than I care to admit, despite your obvious dismissal of my interest."

"You have a funny way of showing it," Lily huffs, seemingly unaffected by his admission.

"And yet I've admitted more than you care to indulge in return."

"Perhaps that's because I'm still deciding. One afternoon won't make up for all of our other less than stellar encounters. How do I know you're not only being kind for some ulterior motive?"

Really? I tell her that I'm interested, and she thinks it's a lie? How can she be so alluring and infuriating at the same time?

"And what might that be?" he inquires through gritted teeth.

"To steal a signature Evans recipe?"

"I would do no such thing."

Unbeknownst to either of them, their faces have inched closer together during their banter. Lily tilts her head down as she scoops out a bite of the fresh confection. For a moment, James thinks she's going to feed it to him, but she turns the spoon at the last second and pops the utensil in her mouth.

He watches carefully as her eyes widen and a soft moan catches in her throat.

"This is my new favorite right here."

"Are you going to let me taste it?"

"Maybe. How desperately do you want it?"

James quirks his eyebrow, waiting for the words to process, but they remain at a standstill as Lily stands by her words.

Is she flirting with me, or is this all a game to her?

"After spending the last hour watching you prepare it, it'd be rather cruel to deny me at least one bite."

Lily shares a wicked grin, and it's clear that James has given her the upper hand in the game they are playing. But what happens next makes it all worth it. Lily swipes the spoon down to collect another bite and leans forward as she brings the spoon to his lips. The entire ordeal is so sensual that James forgets that they are still mere acquaintances, with today marking the first instance that they've spent an extended amount of time together.

He opens his mouth, and she slides the spoon in, his lips closing around it as she pulls away. An explosion of flavor erupts on his tongue. The chocolate of the crust and the subtle hints of peanut butter in the custard meld together in perfect harmony, with the raspberry drizzle acting as the flawless descant tying everything seamlessly together. James has never tasted something so decadent or so unique.

He doesn't realize how long he savors the flavors, nor that at some point, his eyes have closed as he relishes in the pure perfection of her creation. When he opens his eyes again, James realizes how dangerously close their faces have drifted.

"Well?" she breathes, and he can taste the whiskey on her breath, drawing him even closer.

"Wow."

They stay there, frozen in time, staring into each other's eyes. It'd be so easy to close the distance. If James is right—which he rarely seems to be when it comes to Lily Evans—it seems like she is daring him to kiss her. Their faces inch imperceptibly closer, and his lips just manage to brush hers when there's a faint click and a creak of the door, followed by boisterous laughter that breaks the spell between them.

The sound of voices snaps James back to reality, and he realizes they've got company.

"Alright, Evans?" he probes, seeing she's just as shaken as he is.

The glassy look in her eyes clears as she recollects herself and shoots him a small smirk.

"Never better."