She found an ankle-length, pink lacy number with fake fur around the neckline. So not her. The thing had never even been worn. Something Billy had bought her as a joke one Valentine's Day.
Grinning, she reminisced about that evening. He'd stuffed the negligee into a heart-shaped candy box after she'd warned him not to give her fattening chocolates. He'd begged her to model the nightgown that night, but she’d had other plans. Her gift to him had been a pair of real-looking handcuffs, which she'd immediately used on him. A ribbon of desire unfurled inside her.
No! I won't go there.
Yanking off the tags, she slid the gown over her head, then studied her reflection in the antique mirror in the corner. No way could she ever leave the room dressed like this. The fabric was completely sheer. Her nipples, deep crimson and erect, poked against the material, and the dark mass of tight curls between her legs was on full display. The only part of her body it didn't expose was her neck.
When the phone rang a moment later, she scanned her room for the cordless unit. Damn. She must have left it in the kitchen again. Starting for the door, she remembered what she was wearing and froze, waiting. The machine would pick it up after a couple more rings.
But it stopped. Billy's voice. Shit! What was he doing answering her phone? She turned the knob, yanked the door open, and nearly crashed into him standing in the hallway, poised to knock.
His gaze raked over her body, and that crooked grin lifted the corner of his mouth. So damn sexy. Doing nothing to conceal his wicked leer, he handed her the phone.
She snatched the handset from him and whirled around, nearly tripping over Cinnamon. The little traitor had always loved Billy and apparently still did. "Hello?" Lord, her voice sounded like there was a frog in her throat.
"That you, Marissa?" Joel let out a chuckle. "I didn’t catch you two in the middle of something, did I?"
She shut her eyes, let the hot shivers pass. "Not in this lifetime."
"Glad Billy made it there okay. How's he look?"
Good enough to eat. She glanced over her shoulder to find him studying her barely concealed rear end. Rolling her eyes, she moved away and slammed the door, narrowly missing him. "Like hell. He’s got bruised ribs from a fall…or something.”
"That what he said?" He snickered. "Funny. I heard a different version."
"Yeah, well, I'm not sure either one of us got the truth." She crossed the room and plopped down on the bed.
"When I was in the service, we had a really unpleasant punishment for habitual liars and tall tale-tellers. We'd snatch them from their bed in the middle of the night and hold them out a window by their feet until they confessed. Which sucked even more if we were at sea."
"Can you gather some of your old Navy buddies and do that to you-know-who?"
He chuckled. "Sorry, sweetheart. We'll have to devise another punishment for him. But listen. I have news for you and Billy."
She glanced toward the hallway, wondered if he was still standing outside her door. "Okay."
"A friend of mine told me something I thought I ought to share with you two. And this is top secret. We're not supposed to know, but he found out Healthy Lifestyle Magazine is sending a critic to the restaurant."
She gasped. "Oh my God, Joel. That could be huge for us. When are they coming?" In her head, she sorted through recipes to add to the current specials; grilled prawns with cheese grits, fake-fried chicken with pecan sauce and citrus glazed pork loin.
"That's the thing. We won’t know. They do it undercover. Could be any time in the next few weeks. Everything has to be perfect, so I’ll need you two to work together, not in competition. Something this big could make or break us, kiddo."
She squeezed her eyes shut, giggling. "I'm so excited, Joel." Wait a second. Did he say work together?
"Me, too. I'm counting on you two."
When they were married, they'd worked as a team in the kitchen, perfect harmony. But when the marriage went sour, so had the working relationship. How could she be expected to perform her best with Billy under her feet? "Joel?" She lowered her voice. "Can’t you wait to start Billy at the restaurant until after this is through?"
"Absolutely not. I want him in it a hundred percent. The two of you in the kitchen together were like…Gilbert and Sullivan, Fred and Ginger. We need that magic to wow the magazine." His voice deepened, shifted into what she referred to as his military mode. "This could be bigger than anything we've ever done. I have to know you guys can put your squabbles aside and make it work."
“You have to trust me on this one, boss.” She crossed her fingers. “Billy and I will do way better if you allow us to compete. It’ll push us to our creative best. I know him, and I know me.” She shut her eyes and waited.
A long sigh. “Fine, but if there’s a problem, I can the whole competition thing, understood?”
Swallowing hard, she nodded. "Okay, Joel. But it’ll work. I know it will. Because I love you and I love the restaurant. And so does Billy."
After she hung up, she grabbed her bathrobe and wrapped it tightly around her body. When she opened the door, she found Billy sitting on the floor in the hallway, leaning against the wall. "Did you catch any of that?"
He shook his head. "Just that you're excited about whatever it is."
"Come on." She stepped over him and gestured toward the living room. Over a glass of merlot, she shared the details of the conversation.
"Joel is right. We were a hell of a team in the kitchen, and elsewhere, too," Billy said after she'd finished. He slid toward her on the couch, ran a teasing finger along her terrycloth-covered thigh. "But by competing, we’ll lift ourselves to the next level."
The contact ignited a spark of desire that quickly engulfed her. Her cheeks blazed with the memory of the white-hot passion they'd once shared. His gaze hijacked hers, refused to release it as he moved closer until their lips were mere inches apart. Sparks flashed between them.
Marissa drew in his breath, felt his essence surround her, smelled one of those peppermint candies he always carried. He held her chin between his fingers as if it were made of spun sugar and would break with the slightest pressure, and lifted it to his mouth, kissed her softly. A rush of heat raced through her body and slicked her entrance. Heart thumping, she shut her eyes and remembered what they'd shared, recalled how he'd loved her, and she'd loved him.
And how he lied to me, broke my heart.
Gathering all her strength, she tore herself away. "No, Billy."
The disappointment in his face nearly made her change her mind, but she couldn't. That part of their relationship had to remain forever in the past. She refused to chance another devastating breakup with him when her heart was only beginning to recover.
He reached for her hand, touched a gentle finger to her wrist, and she swore her pulse quickened. "We could try again."
Backing away, she shuddered. "I'll see you in the morning. You'd better get a good night's sleep. I plan to give you a run for your money tomorrow."
His brow shot up. "You plan to give me a run for my money? Since when was your work even on the same level as mine? As I remember it, you started as my Sous Chef."
All thoughts of making love with him evaporated. "The apprentice became the master in about five minutes when it was apparent that I was as good as you, if not better."
He bolted off the couch and marched back and forth across the room, wearing a path on the Persian rug. If you’re so sure about your skills, why not put your money where your mouth is?”
She squared her shoulders. “You want a wager? I thought you’d given that sort of thing up.” She held a finger to her lips. “Oops, no, you didn’t. You just lied about giving it up.” Okay, that was a low blow.
His lips pursed in an angry scowl. “I wasn’t referring to money.” He took a step closer, so close she could smell his scent. “Let’s up the ante, hmm?”
Her pulse quickened. “What, like the loser has to quit the restaurant?” Did she really have th
e confidence to put her career on the line? Too late to turn back now.
“I was thinking something a little more personal.” He circled around her like a lion stalking its prey. “Winner gets whatever they want—in bed. Loser has to spend twenty-four hours as the winner’s sexual slave.”
A jolt of red-hot lust swirled inside her, but she fixed a confident smile on her face. “How about this. If I win, you leave the restaurant. If you win, you get your perverted fantasy. And I leave the restaurant because there’s no way in hell I’ll ever agree to work with you on a permanent basis. I have no doubts the kitchen will be all mine as soon as this thing is finished. You have no idea how good I’ve gotten.”
His confident laugh made her cringe. Had she just signed away her body as well as her job on a bet?
"I’m not worried, Marissa. I created Slim Southern Fare, not you. Don’t even think about using any of my signature dishes."
"Ha! As if I’d need to." Without waiting for his rebuttal, she charged down the hall to her room and kicked the door shut.
We'll see who's the finer chef tomorrow.
She'd show Billy Walker just how far she’d come since he’d left. He was good. No denying that. But she was better, and she’d prove it. Somehow.
Chapter Three
"I'll can both your asses if you can't see past your differences for the sake of this restaurant. Don't think I won't." Joel's face reddened as he pounded his fist on the desk. "Quit bickering and come up with a plan to wow the restaurant critic. You may be competing, but the bigger picture is the menu as a whole. You have to be able to share a kitchen without sabotaging each other. Just to make it more interesting, I’ll throw in a bonus to the winner. Ten grand." He fixed them each in turn with one of his sternest scowls, then scraped his chair back and stood. "I'll send Ross in here so you can fill him in on your plans."
Joel’s promise of a fat prize had Billy practically salivating. If he won, he could pay Earl everything he owed him. Was it a coincidence that Joel had made the prize that exact amount? Probably not, knowing his cousin.
As the door clicked shut behind Joel, Billy ventured a glance at Marissa, seated beside him with her arms wrapped tightly around her body. She'd refused to let him catch a ride with her this morning, so they'd taken separate cars from her place to the restaurant. Now, she wouldn't even look at him. To make matters worse, she'd set his bags next to the front door before she'd left the house and told him he'd better find another place to sleep tonight.
Maybe he could talk Joel into letting him stay in his guest room. They were family, after all. He'd rather bunk with Marissa, though. And not in her guest room. He'd dreamt about making love with her last night, woke this morning with a raging hard-on. Obstinate as she was, she did it for him like no other woman ever had.
"I've made a list of my best new recipes," Marissa said, still not meeting his gaze. "We can use those as the specials for the next few weeks."
Still a control freak. Billy tipped his chair back, balancing on the two rear legs and shook a peppermint into his mouth. "I have a few ideas, too. We can lay it all out and narrow down the best ones, for the good of the menu, of course."
She mumbled something under her breath he couldn't make out. The tension in the air grew thick as molasses. His head thrummed with irritation. How was he supposed to do his best work under these circumstances? Between his relentless lust for Marissa and the pressure to come up with the cash he owed Earl, all his creative juices were blocked. If she'd only relaxed last night, let nature take its course, she'd be way more agreeable today. Not that he could blame her for her hesitation. He hadn't exactly been a model husband but releasing all her pent up hormones would be good for her.
More than any other woman he'd known, Marissa's mood after sex jumped about a thousand notches and stayed high for days. He'd rarely given her a chance to go more than twenty-four hours without it while they were married. Couldn't keep his hands off her. Stealing another glance at her profile, he studied the ample gentle of her ass, the swell of her breasts under a snug-fitting T-shirt. Dark ringlets spilled over her shoulder, barely touching the beauty mark on her upper arm.
He reminisced about the time he'd made a cherry amaretto sauce and drizzled it over her chest, lapped it off her nipples, and the valley between her breasts. The front of his pants tightened from his growing erection. He set the chair down and folded his hands over his lap.
Footsteps approached seconds before the door burst open, and Joel came back into the office, followed by a short, stocky black man in a chef's uniform. The man planted a loud smooch on Marissa's cheek. "Good morning, gorgeous." He gave Billy an appraising stare. "So, this is him, huh?"
Marissa's cheeks blazed red as pomegranates. "Ross Jackson, meet Billy Walker."
If he weren't two hundred percent positive Ross was gay, Billy would have been jealous.
"Ross is our new Sous Chef," Joel explained. "He and Marissa have been inseparable since you…for the past few months." He motioned for Ross to sit in the desk chair. "I have some cataloging to do in the wine cellar, so I'll leave the three of you to hash out your plans for dazzling Healthy Lifestyles Magazine." He checked his watch. "Please don't kill each other while I'm gone. I need you all. In fact, I have an idea." Taking out his billfold, he peeled off two twenties and handed them to Marissa. "Why don't you all run over to the sandwich shop across the street and have lunch? And bring me back a Reuben." Grabbing a file folder from his desk, he waved and left the room.
Billy stood up at the exact moment Marissa did, and they bumped into each other, stayed there a couple of seconds, gazes locked, sparks flying back and forth. His temperature shot up a few dozen degrees as he stared into her chocolate-colored eyes, smelled her vanilla scent. Her lips parted slightly, enough for him to glimpse the moisture on her bottom lip, imagine her mouth closing over his cock, her fingers cradling his balls, her—
"Ahem," Ross said. "Come on, lovebirds. Flirt on your own time."
Marissa spun around and playfully slapped Ross's arm. "Shut up, would you?"
Ross laughed as he left the room, headed to the back door. Marissa hurried after him, head high, shoulders squared.
Yeah, Billy was sure now. She still wanted him as much as he did her. She'd apparently discussed him with her buddy, Ross. Grinning as he followed her across the street, he stared at her nicely rounded ass and wondered how soon he'd be back in her bed.
***
Marissa glanced down at her half-eaten Dijon turkey sandwich and frowned. She hated to admit that Billy's recipes sounded intriguing, but it burned her up that Ross seemed to think so, too. After all, Ross was her protégé, not Billy's. He'd followed her around the kitchen like a lost puppy for the first month he'd worked at the restaurant. Having her own fan club had been a little annoying in the beginning, but she'd grown to like it. Knowing Ross might jump ship to sail with Billy the Kid pissed her off.
"Anybody home, Miss Moody-Pants?" Ross waved a hand in front of her face. "Billy’s Grand Marnier glazed pork chops sound to die for, don't you think?"
She swatted him away and studied the paper where he'd written all their ideas. "Too heavy. We have to showcase our leanest dishes."
Billy shook his head. "Then I'll substitute a grilled chicken breast. The sauce goes even better with poultry."
She gritted her teeth. "Fine. But if that stays, I want my bacon-wrapped turkey breast with Mole sauce on the list."
"Deal." He winked as if they were still together, still two people in love who shared secrets and intimate gestures. Like they used to. She ignored the sudden heat between her legs, incensed that he still held that sort of power over her body.
The waitress came over, toting a white bag, and handed it to Billy. "One Reuben to go." She gave Billy a wink and a flirtatious grin that made Marissa wince.
That was not jealousy in the pit of my stomach.
"Y'all have a great day, you hear," the waitress trilled.
Easy for her to say. She
didn't have to work with her ex-husband and the traitor who'd suddenly become his number one fan. She didn’t have to be inches away from the one man who undid all the buttons she tried so hard to keep closed up tight. Shoving away from the table, Marissa stood. "Let's go. It's almost time to open the kitchen." Without waiting for the men, she charged out the door and started across the street.
Back at the restaurant, she handed Ross a list with the ingredients she needed for the evening’s menu. Billy gave him another.
Ross tucked the papers into his pocket and headed out with Joel. She and Billy were left alone to start their prep work. Billy diced onions as she snapped beans and tossed them into a pot. They ended up at the sink at the same moment, washing up. Billy unexpectedly wrapped his soapy hands around hers, lathered her skin, closed his slippery fist over her fingers, one at a time. Then he brought their hands under the water, gently rinsed away the suds, and dried them with a paper towel.
I shouldn’t let him—
Then his lips were on hers, banishing all rational thought. His tongue swirled around hers until she was panting with pent up need. A sigh escaped her throat when Billy pulled her closer, close enough to feel his growing erection against her stomach. His hands roamed over her back, slid down to cup her ass. His touch sparked the familiar tingling between her legs.
Guilt niggled at her for allowing desire to have its way with her when she ought to be concentrating on her work. Yet she couldn't tear herself away as Billy's arms tightened around her. She flattened her body to his, breathed in his spicy scent, and drew comfort from the contact.
Cupping her cheek in his palm, he captured her gaze, told her all she needed to know with his lusty stare. Gently brushing his lips along hers, he let out a husky growl, as if he'd been waiting his whole life for this kiss.
The scent of his ever-present peppermint candy opened a floodgate of memories, stirred the passion she'd kept at bay for so long. Heating to the boiling point, she nipped his bottom lip, teased her tongue into his mouth, letting him know she needed more, much more.
Can't Stand the Heat Page 3