by Kait Nolan
Pressing her mouth together, she blew out a frustrated breath. “Nothing came of it. He was here, I was in Chicago. I didn’t see him again until just before Christmas, and by then I was with Jayson.”
“May he rot in hell,” Sean intoned, moving around her with an ease and familiarity established back in their cooking school days.
Athena lifted the fennel in toast. “Hear, hear.”
“You’re not with Jayson now.”
“No.” She’d reached a point where that fact relieved her. “But I’m not with Logan either.”
Sean’s brows drew together. “Because you don’t want to be? Because that guy is clearly not an unbiased party when it comes to you.”
You’re worth more than that.
Logan’s eyes had been ripe with fury as he’d said it, and she wasn’t above admitting—to herself at least—that seeing him angry on her behalf had turned her on. When was the last time someone who wasn’t family had defended her? Looked out for her? Maybe never. Athena had always been fine with that. She valued her independence and had learned early on to take care of herself. But he’d been…magnificent. If they’d been alone, she might have tried again to finish what she’d started last week. But he hadn’t gone there, despite the fact that she’d made it clear that’s what she’d wanted.
Restless and unsettled, she jerked her shoulders and began prepping the game hens. “Because…I don’t know. I thought we could do something casual again but that’s not what he wants, and I’m not in a place to consider anything more serious, even if I knew whether I wanted that. Which I don’t.”
Liar.
“Worried about rebound?”
“Yeah. That and I have no idea where I’ll end up next. It seems pointless to start something here when my next job is bound to be elsewhere.” Yet hadn’t that kiss started something? She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, about him. He’d made her yearn, damn him. For something she couldn’t quite put a name to. Or didn’t want to.
“The next job doesn’t have to be at the ends of the earth. You could do what I did. Open a restaurant here as part of the inn. I’ve loved having my own place and working with my family.”
“You aren’t the first one to mention that. But our little inn and spa is a far cry from the luxury resort you and your siblings opened. We don’t target the same kind of clientele. We’re doing remarkably well, but we just started the second phase expansion of the spa. We can’t afford another expansion for a restaurant.” She understood better than her sisters the cost of starting one from scratch. Their well-intentioned offer wasn’t a financial reality.
“What about Logan’s idea? The cooking classes? There are plenty of places where cooking schools are a part of the vacation experience. Hell, even guest chefs. I’m working on talking Meg into coming to the resort for a sexy couples retreat weekend centered around her cookbook. Lots of people would jump at being taught by a Michelin-starred chef.”
Athena froze, a flush of shame sweeping over her like the backwash of heat from a flambéed dessert. Not meeting his eyes, she kept her hands steady as she spatchcocked the hens. “There’s only one of those in this kitchen.”
“What are you talking about?”
“They stripped me of my star.”
A knife clattered against the counter and Sean’s big hands curved around her shoulders, turning her to face him. “What happened?”
The automatic concern and warmth in his eyes had heat stinging the back of hers. Sucking in a breath for fortitude, she let it all spill out. By the time she’d finished, the kitchen was full of the scents of roasting meat, blackened peppers, and the chocolate that would be the base for the soufflé.
“I don’t know what happened. I just…when my mother died, something in me simply stopped working. I stopped caring. Everything I’d worked for suddenly seemed less important. Looking back, if I hadn’t been still raw from grief, I probably never would’ve gone for Jayson in the first place. It was months after the funeral, but I just…wasn’t processing. Wasn’t letting myself, I guess. He got to me in a weak moment, helping to pick up the load that had gotten too heavy.”
It hurt to admit that. To realize she’d chosen him out of weakness because she’d been feeling needy. Oh God. Was that what she was doing with Logan?
“There’s nothing wrong with needing support and comfort. It’s shitty that he used that against you. Shittier that it meant the loss of something important to you. But the stars aren’t the be-all-end-all in this business.”
Athena quirked her lips. “Right. Because we’re breaking our necks and working our asses off slaving for that recognition just for fun?”
“No really. And, let’s be honest. The stars go to the restaurant, not the chefs. The chefs are the heart of it, but it’s the whole package. They didn’t strip Olympus’s star until you were gone.”
“We both know that decision was probably made before I left. Most likely due to inconsistent performance over months.”
“So what? Yeah, it sucks. And you have every right to be upset about it. And not to beat a dead horse, but Gordon Ramsay cried when The London lost its two-star rating. But it didn’t ruin him and there’s no reason to let it ruin you. One bad year is not going to ruin your career.”
Athena snapped the woody stem off a spear of asparagus with perhaps more force than necessary. “I don’t have Ramsay’s other achievements to back me up. Right now, I’ve got a lost star and a viral video of my worst kitchen meltdown ever. I don’t want to set up some cooking classes only to have a bunch of Lookie Lous coming to gawk at me.”
“Is that the only objection you’ve got to teaching? Because you’re worried about being judged for that video?”
“It’s not just that, although that’s a big part of it. You know me, Sean. I don’t exactly people well.”
“You’ve been teaching your niece.”
“She’s different. She’s a kid, and she loves me.”
“But you’ve enjoyed teaching her?”
She’d enjoyed the hell out of it. Ari was enthusiastic and just loved spending quality time with her family. “Sure. It’s not like the competitive kitchens we came up in. She legit wants to learn. No ego. No end game.”
“I think your Logan is right. You probably would enjoy teaching normal people how to elevate their food. You hated those hoity toity assholes who flocked to Olympus. Why not try the classes? Set up some kind of short run sort of deal while you’re trying to figure out your options?”
“Maybe I will.” It’d be something different to try anyway. “And he’s not my Logan.”
Of course Ari came sailing in on the heels of that statement. “But he wants to be!”
She didn’t quail one iota in the face of Athena’s flat stare. Instead, she turned to Sean. “Your lady is massaged, rubbed, and buffed to within an inch of her life. She’s currently upstairs getting ready for your evening. Dinner is still at six?”
“That is the plan.”
“Then you’d best hop to so you can finish readying your part.”
Athena waved him on. “Go. I’ve got the rest of this. I’ll put the finishing touches on everything, and it’ll be all ready for you to serve.”
Sean’s eyes went wide and his cheeks paled a bit beneath the scruff of his beard. “Shit, this is it, isn’t it?” He wiped his hands on his apron.
“It is. You’re gonna wow her.”
“What if she says no?”
“She’s not gonna say no,” Ari assured him. “She just spent all day telling everybody at the spa how amazing you are.”
“Okay.” He stripped the apron off and nodded. “Okay.” He swept Athena into a tight hug. “Thanks for helping with all this. It means a lot.”
“Anytime. And thanks for listening.”
“Always. You’re gonna figure this out.”
“I sure as hell hope so. Now shoo. Go get ready.”
But he hesitated, looking over the food and muttering. “It has to be perfect.”
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nbsp; “It will be perfect. Now go on, get out of here. Knock her socks off.”
“Any last-second advice?”
She couldn’t help it. She doubled over laughing with incredulity. “You’re looking to me for love advice? I’m sorry, where were you during the entire discussion of my disaster of a love life today?”
“Not love advice, exactly. Proposal advice. You’re a woman.”
“Last time I checked.”
Sean glanced toward the door to the dining room. “I thought about slipping the ring in her champagne glass but—”
“Ugh, no.” Athena made a face, thinking of how often that trite move had been pulled at Olympus. “You can do better than that. Besides, isn’t that a Dom Perignon Chef De Cave Limited Edition you brought?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t go sticking jewelry in two-hundred dollar a bottle champagne.”
“Is getting down on one knee too old school?”
That mental image did something funny to her insides. Ari would say she was going gooey, a fact which Athena would deny until her dying day. “Definitely not,” she said briskly. “That’s romantic. And sweet.”
“And it puts me eye level with her rack,” Sean pointed out.
There went the gooey feeling. Athena whacked him with a pot holder. “You’re such a guy. Get out of my kitchen. Now.”
With a grin, Sean scurried off.
Ari heaved a blissful sigh. “Damn, they’re cute.”
“They really are. Is everything else ready?”
“And waiting. I just need to light the candles. The champagne is already chilled. And I’m all set to play server.”
Athena hooked an arm around her shoulders. “You did good, kid. Want to help me finish this up?”
Ari brightened. “Yeah!”
She paid ruthless attention as Athena walked her through the final finishing touches on the various dishes. If everybody was as enthusiastic and compliant as her niece, Athena thought she really would enjoy teaching cooking classes. The idea of it continued to roll around her brain as they plated and prepped. By the time the entrée had been carried out, she’d made her decision.
Ari came back into the kitchen, backed by sounds of pleasure over the food that were one step above pornographic.
“Obviously the food is going over well,” Athena said.
“Unquestionably.” Ari looked over the extra still spread over the counter. “You know, there’s enough food here for an army.” She slanted a glance at Athena. “Farmers get awfully hungry.”
Athena shot her the side eye. “Smart ass.”
“You know sometimes he eats Hungry Man dinners.”
“Bring me the basket.”
Chapter 9
After Athena and Sean left, Logan spent the rest of the afternoon second-guessing himself, thinking about all the ways he could’ve handled—well, everything—better.
He’d tipped his hand and showed far too much with that outburst about her ex. Not that it wasn’t a hundred percent truth, but she’d said she wasn’t up for anything serious. Maybe he’d been nudging her in that direction, but he’d been taking his time about it, letting her warm up to the idea. Maybe that plan would’ve worked in the long game. But that, in combination with the whole cooking school idea, might as well have been an announcement of, “Hey, I want you to stay and I figured out exactly how you can.” Which it was. But Athena wasn’t a woman who liked being told what to do. He knew that about her. And if he hadn’t been so rattled by thinking she’d taken her ex back, he probably could’ve—would’ve—waited until he could just slip it into the conversation more casually, so she thought the whole thing was her idea.
Too late now.
By the time he made it into the shower, he was convinced he’d blown the whole damned thing. It left him feeling panicky and pissed. Haunted by the should’ve, would’ve, could’ves, the sharp edge of something that might’ve been grief lodged in his throat.
Get a fucking grip, Maxwell. You don’t know that it’s over.
As he scrubbed off layers of dirt and grease and sweat, he considered damage control. How was he going to salvage this situation? Was it salvageable? Should he apologize? Or would talking about it further just make the whole situation worse? Maybe he should just wait and let her process, come to him in her own time, even if that was to say no. His review of the options was cut short as he stepped out of the shower and heard a clatter from the kitchen.
Oh hell.
Bo and Peep had gotten into the garbage again. He really thought the motion-activated trash can with the auto-locking top would stop that crap, but the pair of them were so smart, they’d probably figured out how to tag team it. Tucking a towel around his hips, he jogged downstairs, determined to shoo them outside before they could make any more of a mess.
But it wasn’t Bo and Peep in his kitchen. It was Athena.
Her hair was bundled in a messy knot and the soft, over-sized t-shirt she wore slipped partly off one shoulder as she turned. “Hey, I—”
At the sight of him, her eyes went dark as smoke and her lips parted on an indrawn breath. Her gaze scraped over him, firm as a touch, and the expression of absolute hunger had him going hard in an instant.
Gripping the edge of the towel, Logan struggled for some control. Looking past her, he noticed the containers of food spread out on the counter. “You brought dinner.”
Knowing she communicated in food, he tried to figure out what that meant. A détente? A yes? A way to let him down gently? He was too busy salivating over her to find an answer.
Hissing out a breath, she snapped the top back on some kind of salad and crossed the room. “It can wait.”
Her mouth and hands were on him before he could blink, ravenous, insatiable. Whatever blood was left in his brain drained south.
“Athena,” he gasped against her kiss. He should slow this down. Stop her so they could talk about—everything. But her hands felt so damned good against his bare skin.
“Don’t say no, Logan. Please don’t say no this time.”
There was that please again. It absolutely slayed his resistance.
Dragging her against him, he devoured her mouth with matching fervor. With the press of her body, she edged him back, toward the living room and the sofa. But Logan wanted her in his bed. Needed her there, where he’d imagined her so many times.
Gripping her legs, he boosted her up until she wrapped them around his hips, dislodging the towel in the process, so she was settled directly on his erection. He swayed, considering for a moment just pressing her against the nearest wall. But her jeans were in the way and that wasn’t what he wanted. She deserved better. Finding his balance, he surged up the stairs, managing not to drop her. Turning blindly down the hall, he staggered into his room and tumbled her onto the bed.
She bounced once, her eyes roaming over his naked form. “God, you’re beautiful.”
“That’s my line.” Then he was on her again, helping her strip out of her clothes with a swift efficiency that bordered on desperation.
He’d wanted to go slow, to cherish her. To show her the tenderness she didn’t seem to think she needed. But she was a living flame in his arms, and everything in her touch, her kiss, urged him to hurry, hurry. It wasn’t in him to deny her.
When she was naked, he dragged her to the edge of the bed and lowered his mouth to feast. She bucked beneath him, gasping a creative patois of curses in at least three languages, even as she gripped his hair to hold him to her. He ruthlessly drove her to flashpoint, then continued to lick and suck, drawing out every last pulse of pleasure from her release, until she tugged at his hair again.
“You. Now.”
As he reached for a condom in the nightstand drawer, he wondered if that was her head chef voice. The absolute command in it was sexy as hell.
She yanked the packet out of his hand and ripped it open, rolling the condom on and stroking him from base to tip, until his eyes rolled back in his head.
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nbsp; Oh, hell no. There was only so much control he was willing to cede. Curling his hands around her wrists, he pressed them into the bed and rose over her, settling between her thighs, his cock just nudging her entrance. He held there, staring down at her, drinking in the desire in every line of her face and body as he struggled to find some control, some finesse.
But Athena would have none of it. Wrapping those long, long legs around him, she arched up and pulled him inside in one fast, hard thrust.
They both cried out.
“Athena.” Her name was all he could manage as her body tightened around him, a remembered perfection that had haunted him for nearly a year.
“Don’t stop,” she gasped.
He couldn’t if his life depended on it.
She didn’t want slow and sweet. Not now. Promising he’d give that to her later, he began to move, setting a merciless pace that drove them both up. Her body rose and fell with every stroke of his, matching and challenging him to go faster, harder, until he forgot everything but the slick heat of her body. As he felt the first flutters of her orgasm begin to ripple around him, he gave himself over to it, to her, and let the heat consume them both.
The last dying rays of the sun slanted through the blinds, gilding the caramel-colored walls and the skin of the man slumped over her. Sleepy, sated, Athena decided it was a helluva view. At some point during the main event, Logan had shifted from holding her wrists down to threading his fingers with hers. They were still laced together, and he was still inside her, his face pressed into her throat. His heart thudded dully against hers, a strangely comforting echo of her own racing pulse. Normally, she wanted space after sex, not cuddles. But she wasn’t in any hurry for him to move.
As she lay sweaty and exhausted, still pinned beneath him, she realized the power of her own self-delusion. In her months with Jayson, she’d convinced herself things in the bedroom had been good, that she’d been getting regular, excellent orgasms. But she’d been fooling herself.
Holy hell.
Logan had been amazing at Opal Springs. A playful, generous lover, who’d been exactly what she’d needed to chase away the grief that had accompanied the first family wedding without her mother. But she’d convinced herself that she’d romanticized it, making the whole experience better than it had been because she couldn’t really have him.