Up close and personal: cooking with Cindy Hope - 2.

Cindy showed up hungry. She knew my kitchen well enough, but tonight we filmed every move. Blonde hair pinned back, that little apron barely covering her curves, she rolled the dough for nokedli while I browned the meat. She leaned over the counter once too often, and the view from behind was pure sin—round, full, impossible to ignore. Steam rose, sauce thickened. Every time she tasted the spoon her lips left a shine. By the time the pörkölt simmered low, the real heat had already shifted to us. She turned, licked her finger clean, and the evening stopped being about dinner.