by Melody Anne
The coffee was brewing so he opened cupboards and took stock of the groceries available to him. It was obvious Chad had told those who stocked his kitchen that he enjoyed cooking as his pots, pans, utensils, and accessories were all top of the line. He also had a huge amount of quality food in the refrigerator and pantry. It rivaled his personal collection he’d been missing.
After taking inventory of the produce, he quickly went to work making a few courses for breakfast. Green wasn’t sure if Mallory was going to be staying to eat, or if she liked or disliked specific foods, or if she had any allergies, but he was going for it. He’d always had a knack for seeing foods work together with whatever he had to cook with. This morning he had enough to make a few things that would either impress her or weird her out. Some women were intimidated by a man who could cook better than they could. Green smiled because he had no doubt he could outcook her. He’d be willing to bet he could outcook most people. He was that damn good.
It didn’t take long to hear Mallory’s steps coming toward the kitchen.
“What’s that smell?” she asked, her eyes frantically searching for the source, making Green puff out his chest in pride.
Green looked over, smiled, and said, “Good morning. I hope you aren’t in too much of a hurry. I’m pulling together a couple of things for breakfast. Would you like coffee or tea?”
“Good morning,” she said, as if unsure how to act. It technically was a morning after for the two of them since they’d slept in the same house. But they hadn’t kissed, hadn’t touched one another, so there was no reason to be awkward. “I’ll have coffee, please. I can’t decide what smells better, the coffee or the food.”
“Both will be delicious,” he assured her. He already had an assortment of creamers and sweeteners on the counter. She put in two sugars and a splash of creamer in her coffee and leaned against the counter while she watched him work.
“You’ve been making all this?” she asked. He was used to the shock when he cooked.
“Yep, I love to cook,” he told her. She looked at the island that was already set with plates and silverware.
“What can I do? I normally have a piece of toast and yogurt for breakfast, so there’s no way I’m turning down this treat, but I should do something as it appears you’ve made us a feast that’s sending my growling stomach begging.”
Green laughed. He enjoyed the shock and, if he wasn’t mistaken, awe that was in her tone and eyes. Normally Green didn’t feel a need to impress anyone, but he really wanted to impress her.
“No need for you to do anything but tell me a story of your funniest moment while you served,” Green said while mixing ingredients together.
“First off, thanks for not being a creep. Last night was very unusual for me and, while I was only a little buzzed from that wine, there are plenty of stories of men taking advantage of women in situations like that,” Mallory said. “I truly appreciate you remaining a gentleman.”
“Not my style at all,” Green replied, pouring his blended egg mixture into his prepared potatoes, flour, and spices.
After giving Green an appreciative nod, she said, “Second, you need to send a big thank you to whoever selected the mattress in that room. It was one of the most comfortable I’ve ever been on.”
“I can’t take credit for any of the furniture in here,” he admitted. “I’m a workaholic and taking time to shop isn’t my idea of a good time, unless it’s at the grocery store.” She laughed at that.
“I’ve never heard of a man loving the grocery store, but from the smells emanating from this kitchen I’m gonna thank whoever gave you a love of cooking.” She smiled as she sipped her coffee and sighed. “Delicious.”
“They are great coffee grinds and I like to try new creamers. It gets boring to have the same thing over and over again. But we get so used to our routines we get into a rut and forget to break it if we’re not careful.”
“I so agree with you. I truly love my routine. I order the same food at restaurants and stick with the same movie genre. I like the same colors and the same styles of clothes. I’ll hang out with friends and they’ll try to shake things up for me. I always complain, but I know it’s good for me in the end.”
“Well let’s break that routine this morning,” he said. He had her sit at the island where he could finish and still talk to her. “Our first course is a fruit medley. I only have blueberries and strawberries, so it won’t live up to its fullest potential, but it has a splash of raspberry vinegar, a spritz of lemon juice, a couple mint leaves, and a fine layer of caramelized sugar around the edge for an added layer of sweetness as well as texture,” Green finished as he set a small bowl on top of Mallory’s plate.
“First course?” Mallory questioned.
“You don’t make a habit of having multiple-course breakfasts? Today’s your lucky day then,” he told her as he kept cooking. He was truly enjoying pleasing and surprising this woman who was more beautiful in the morning with no makeup and finger-brushed hair. He was going to enjoy their first real morning-after — and he knew that was going to happen.
“This sugar is normally a no-no for me, but dang it’s perfect,” she told him as he kept cooking and she ate her fruit, looking as if she was savoring every bite.
“For a second course we have a miniature Brie quiche. My normal quiche takes almost two and a half hours to complete, but with a little magic from the microwave and a tiny portion, it should be satisfactory,” Green said as he set down a golden topped, fist-sized pie.
She sat there, her eyes a bit glazed as the smell from the dish wafted to her nose. She didn’t pick up her fork as a courtesy to not eat before everyone had their meal in front of them. He laughed.
“Don’t wait for me; I have a couple more pieces coming and don’t have time to sit and eat yet. The best compliment a chef can receive is a satisfied customer,” he told her. “You can entertain me while I cook, though. I’m still waiting for your story.”
“I’m not a good storyteller,” Mallory admitted.
“You’re not a practiced storyteller?” Green asked, his question suggesting that anyone could be just about anything with enough practice.
Mallory caught on as well and raised a hand to note her error, corrected herself, took a drink of her coffee, and then spoke. “Give me a moment to think on this.” She picked up her fork and took a bite of her quiche, a groan rumbling from her that instantly brought his hardness right back to life. He turned away so she didn’t see anything.
“Oh my gosh, Hendrick,” Mallory said after another erection-producing groan escaped her lips. “This is the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.” The pure lust of her tone had him nearly dropping to his knees. Maybe cooking for her had been a bad idea after all. He might throw everything from the island onto the floor and eat her for breakfast instead if those moans of pleasure continued.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Green said, his voice husky. She was so in ecstasy over her food she didn’t appear to notice his complete discomfort. He had a few other things he wanted to put into her mouth . . .
She took another bite and groaned again. He was going to die. Or he was going to ravish her. One or the other. “This is ridiculously delicious!” Mallory said again between her second and third bite.
“Thank you. Cooking’s a stress release for me and cooking for people brings me a lot of joy,” Green said. At the moment it wasn’t a stress relief as her sounds sent his heart rate into the heart attack zone, but he wouldn’t change this moment for all of the money in his bank account — and that was a lot. He had to get the moans to stop.
“Not another plate of food or another word from me until I get a story from you,” Green demanded. If she’d have been looking at him she’d have seen the fire burning in his eyes, but she wasn’t looking at anything other than her quickly diminishing food.
“Okay. I have one but let me finish this first. No way I’ll be able to concentrate with
any of this remaining in front of me.”
“Fair enough,” Green replied, going back to his latest concoction. He flinched a couple of times as she whimpered and moaned. It took her a solid minute to finish the food in front of her and he had beads of sweat dripping from his brow as if he’d just run a damn marathon . . . in an hour. At least she’d think it was from cooking over a hot stove and not the moans he wanted to hear while she was lying beneath him.
Mallory finished the food, then leaned forward and placed her elbows on the island, cupped both of her hands around the coffee mug, and took a long, slow sip before starting her story.
“My summer tour onboard a submarine between my junior and senior year in the Academy. There are actually a few funny moments during those months on the submarine, but I think the funniest for me was mail call,” Mallory started.
Green had been aboard a couple different submarines on SEAL-in-training missions, and he recalled how crazy those crews could be. He continued with the last portion of his breakfast without interrupting her.
“I was on the USS Nevada with the gold crew, patrolling around Hawaii, when I heard some of the crew talking about a mail call. The setup was that it was a three-person job. The sub would surface just enough to get two of the people out of the sail with gaff hooks to pick up the mail in a floating bag. The third person would ensure they didn’t fall, watch over the situation, and keep comms with the team downstairs.”
Green looked over at her with a knowing smile at where this was going.
“Well . . . wanting to show that I was a leader, I volunteered to go with two young, enlisted guys. I still remember their names — Johnshoy and McCarthy. The three of us geared up with overboard safety suits, gloves, the whole nine yards of craziness to not only keep you safe but to make you look absolutely ridiculous. Of course, all of the gear wasn’t in the same compartment as the sail, so we ended up doing a promenade through the missile compartment, past the galley, and then up two flights of stairs. By the time we got there I was sweating like a stuck pig. Johnshoy looked as if he was about to pass out, and McCarthy’s gear weighed as much as he did. We were a sight to behold for sure,” she said, starting to laugh at the memory.
Green brought over another dish, the sight and smell interrupting Mallory’s story. She looked up at him in awe, a definite stroke to his ego.
“A fried egg adorned with hazelnuts, chanterelle mushrooms, garlic, and blackberries,” Green said as he sat with a plate of the same.
“Please, keep going,” Green encouraged as he started into his plate of quiche and fried egg.
Mallory took a quick bite of her egg, enjoyed the multitude of flavors for a moment, then started again. “The three of us were standing there, looking like absolute idiots, Johnshoy and McCarthy had the gaff hooks, I had a small, laminated checklist with me, and we’re ready to go. Everyone seemed to know what was going on besides us. Hearing different commands for depths to decrease and the specific target angle, I was solely focused on making sure I did a great job of getting this task done. Hearing someone say, good morning captain, my head turned to see the captain. He saw me, laughed hard, something he never did, and asked the officer on watch when mail call was. A sinking feeling started brewing in my gut. Something felt wrong when he laughed. Then a couple of chuckles started rolling through the control room, and I knew what had happened. We were being hazed. I was so embarrassed that I fell for it. Johnshoy and McCarthy started cracking up laughing at the entire situation. What could I do but give a chuckle with the captain standing there? The more they laughed the madder I got. The madder I got the more everyone laughed. It was a vicious cycle I was thankful finally stopped when the captain said to call off the mail call and for us to get out of the gear,” she said, a full smile on her face.
“How long did that get talked about?” Green asked.
“Oh, for the entirety of my career,” Mallory replied.
“Ha.” Green let out a laugh as he stood and walked to the counter. “I think we all have those hazing stories. I love them. I love the ones that live on forever. Remind me to tell you the story of crossing the equator for shellback initiation.”
“Oh, that sounds good!” she said. “Tell me now.”
“Nope you have to keep eating. I have one last item for us,” Green said as he pulled something from the oven. “And I need you to have to see me again, so the curiosity will bring you back.”
“I’m only allowing you to get away with that because I want whatever it is you have cooking,” she said, her mouth practically watering. “What is it? It smells like apple pie.”
“Close. It’s Apple-Cinnamon Bostock.”
Green sat the single pastry down in the middle of the island, handed Mallory a new fork, then sat down. “Bon Appetit.”
The next few minutes were more torture for Green as Mallory moaned, whimpered — and he’d swear in a court of law — purred, as she slowly ate her dessert. She took her time, slowly opening her mouth, gently setting the fork on her tongue, closing her lips and sucking the food from her fork, then chewing before swiping her tongue back out and running it over her lips. He couldn’t finish his food as his throat had closed and his sweating increased. He’d never wanted a woman so bad; he’d cut off his own arm to have her.
“Mallory . . .” he began, about to beg her to come to bed with him. But she stopped him cold as the last crumbs were picked off her plate and she pushed it away. She didn’t seem aware of the pain and suffering he was going through.
“I apologize ruining this gourmet meal with real life, but we need to hammer out what we’re going to be doing with you and Anna,” Mallory said.
Those words were the cold shower he’d needed. At the mention of the senator, he felt his throbbing erection release some pressure. He had nothing to feel guilty about, but knowing he’d been fooling around with that woman on the same day he’d met Mallory made his stomach ill.
“Agreed,” Green said simply.
“At this time, I believe the best strategy is to continue to go at this as we’ve started. Tomorrow she wants to have brunch with you, and I think you should make that date. If you want me to look into the person or people you guys are investigating, I’m sure I can help,” Mallory shared. She continued before he could say something.
“You know . . . I never thought I’d be in this weird undercover world. I never realized how much corruption and depravity there is in politics. There’s so much the public never sees, and it wears me down at times. But don’t worry, I don’t give up and I won’t quit. In fact, it never enters my mind, but in the rare instances I have quiet time to sit and think, I realize how depressing it all is.”
“I agree. When the rainbow glasses come off, it hardens a lot of people. I refuse to let it harden me, though. I’m a lot more aware than I used to be,” Green said.
“I’m glad to know there’ll be someone I can trust inside that circus,” Mallory told him. He felt his ego stroked again and he liked it. Mallory was strong and determined and she was leaning on him. Not much, but a little. He’d prove to her it was a smart move on her part.
As she finished her sentence her phone started ringing.
“It’s the boss. I’ll let it ring out, but I should be going. Please let me at least wash the dishes and clean up since you cooked all of this amazing food. Thank you, it was by far, hands down, the best breakfast I’ve ever had. You’re a phenomenal cook,” Mallory said.
Green waived her off. “No, I’ve got this. You have to run. Don’t worry at all about it. Take off and deal with whatever the senator needs. Give me the best secured number to talk with you.”
Mallory gave Green the correct phone number without hesitation, then gave him a quick, friendly hug, and practically ran from his house. He leaned against the counter and groaned, this time without restraint. His body was going to be on supercharge until he got to bed her. Hell, it might be on supercharge for a month or a year after that. There was no doubt t
hat he was in total lust.
It had to end eventually. But he sure as hell hoped it wasn’t anytime soon.
Chapter Nine
Eyes and Chad were sitting in Chad’s office at the special ops command center discussing mundane matters the other team members had little care for. Expenses, paperwork, all of the stuff that had to be taken care of but had no romance to it.
“After we’re done here, I’m going to call Damien and see about getting together. I figure it’s time to take him up on his offer to meet up,” Eyes told Chad.
“Sounds good,” Chad said, obviously distracted. Eyes gave him a few seconds, knowing he needed time before he continued. Chad finally looked up.
“I was surprised you and Damien knew each other. I don’t do well with surprises. And sometimes running this team is a challenge because I’m dealing with very self-sufficient men who’ve never done well with orders when they disagree with an action.”
“Yeah, I have a hell of a time with that out in the field. I don’t like giving orders to men I deem my equals.” Eyes paused for a moment. “But if a person doesn’t step up into the leadership role, especially when you’re a pack of wolves, then chaos is bound to erupt.”
“I want you to be aware of the family relationship with Damien, so it might be better for me to step away from this and let you lead. I don’t want my past with Damien to affect how we’re looking at him in the present. In the real world, I understand good people can go bad. It’s very difficult for me to imagine Damien being on the wrong side of the law. He has a wife and a child. It’s incomprehensible to me.”
“I understand,” Eyes said. “I’ve served with some men I’d lay down my life for and then watched them fall apart when they came back home, cheating, lying, breaking the law. In battle these men were the ones I counted on to keep me safe. Then we returned to the real world, and I wouldn’t trust them to walk my dog. I don’t see how people allow that to happen to themselves.”