by Marie Tuhart
“You weren’t?” Damon looked down at her.
“No. But Damon, your store isn’t what most of us think an adult store is like.”
“What do you mean?”
“She means those sleazy stores, with booths in the back, old geezers with pot bellies getting off, and in a part of town no one wants to visit,” Destiny said.
“I guess I never thought about it. I wanted something where people feel comfortable.”
“And that’s why it’s getting so popular.” Tessa smiled at him.
“Yeah, and I noticed something as we came in. I’m going to make a quick phone call.” Damon stepped outside the store. The building next to him was empty with a For Sale sign in the window. He called the number listed.
Damon had just hung up the phone when Max, Sierra, Jordan, and Crystal arrived. “What is going on? The parking lot is almost full.” Max asked.
“We’ve got a full house tonight. I’ll explain later.” They all traipsed inside. Damon didn’t want to lock the door, but he changed the sign to Closed – Book Club In Progress and went in back.
Destiny was at the front of the book club group, but Damon decided to stay by the doorway in case someone walked in.
The book club lasted longer than ever. With new people, there was a lot of conversation. They sold out of the chosen book in record time. It was almost eleven before they got everyone out of the store.
“I think your advertisement went too well,” Damon said to Destiny.
“Yeah, but we made record money tonight.” She smiled.
Damon glanced at his watch. He told Tessa and his friends he’d meet them at the coffee shop, but that was an hour ago.
“Go meet everyone, Damon. I’ll lock up.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, boss, I’m sure.” Destiny all but pushed him out the door. She locked the door and turned the sign to Closed once again.
Damon made his way to the coffee shop, happy to see his friends still there, chatting away.
“About time,” Jordan said.
“Sorry.” Damon leaned down and brushed a kiss over Tessa’s lips. “I never expected us to get that busy.”
“It’s a good thing,” Sierra commented.
“It’s wonderful.” Damon took his seat.
“Americano?” a woman said next to Damon.
“That’s his,” Tessa said.
The cup was set in front of him. He smiled his thanks at the server before he took a long sip. “Thanks, sweetheart,” Damon said to Tessa.
“I told her earlier that, when you joined us, to bring it over. I didn’t expect you to be so late.”
“Me either. Are you going to be okay at work tomorrow?”
“It will be fine.”
“Aw, aren’t they sweet,” Tessa remarked.
Damon glanced over to see Crystal had her head on Jordan’s shoulder. Then he looked back at Tessa.
Max cleared his throat. “Since we’re all here, Zeke came out and looked at what I want to have done.”
“And?” Damon leaned forward.
“He can do it. The thing is the cost.” Max leaned back in his chair.
“That much?” Jordan asked.
“Actually, it’s better than I thought it would be. Zeke figures around two hundred thousand total.”
“That’s not bad,” Damon said. He’d figured more. “So roughly about sixty-seven thousand from each of us.”
“Yes. Zeke is willing to work with half up front and half at completion,” Max said.
“That works for me,” Jordan said.
“Me too.” Damon knew he had enough money to cover the expansion of the club and buy the retail space next to his store. Not that he was going to pay cash for the space. He’d finance it. But he didn’t have any worries at all.
“You guys have that kind of money sitting around?” Tessa asked, amazement in her voice.
Sierra laughed. “Did I forget to tell you? Max has money.”
“Jordan owns the law firm, and Sierra and I contribute to all the household stuff, even if they don’t want us to,” Crystal commented.
Tessa looked at Damon. “Don’t fret, Tessa. I’m fine.” How would she feel when she found out he had money? He’d find out soon enough, once he talked to the real estate agent, and later Zeke. Already in his head, Damon could see the wall between the two shops demolished and the business expanding into the next building.
He was already deciding to make the next building more of a bookshop. A place where they could hold the book club meetings and sell all sorts of books. He was limited on how many books he could carry in his current store, but with more space, there were possibilities, especially since they were talking about more education for members of the club.
“Since we’re all in agreement, I’ll have Zeke get a contract drawn up.” Max held up his hand. “I’ll let you read it, Jordan. All three of us will have to sign it anyway.”
Jordan laughed. “Right.”
“So what do we have here?” A female voice intruded as a flash went off.
Jordan rose to his feet, and Crystal groaned. “You’re disturbing us. Please go away.”
Max put his arm around Sierra’s shoulders, and Damon leaned closer to Tessa.
“Now, Mr. Frost. What are you hiding?”
Max narrowed his eyes. “Just friends having coffee. Nothing to hide here.” Max’s voice was ice cold.
“Friends who have coffee after being at a book club meeting at an adult store. My readers will find that very interesting, especially since I’ve done some research.” The woman turned to Max. “I understand you own a business called Wicked Sanctuary.”
Sierra sat up, and Tessa stiffened next to Damon. Damon rose to his feet next to Jordan. “Miss…”
“Collins. Shantell Collins.” Her voice went all breathy and soft.
Damon had dealt with this type of woman before. Thought they could distract a man with their looks. In addition, he’d heard her name before. She was the reporter who’d made Jordan and Crystal’s life difficult during Sage’s court case.
“Ms. Collins,” Damon started. “Why don’t we take a walk outside.” He took her by the arm and began leading her away from his friends. Once outside, he kept his smile. “Why are you bothering us?” His tone was cold and hard.
“I am a reporter.”
“I don’t care. We’re private citizens, living our lives.” He wasn’t going to give this woman anything about them.
“Really? Mr. Frost and Ms. Hayden recently defended a woman accused of abuse.”
“The case was dismissed. I’m sure lawyers defend abuse cases every day.” Damon kept a straight face, never raising his voice.
“This is different.” She slid closer to Damon, and it took everything he had not to take a step back from her cloying perfume. “I understand the couple he was defending are into some freaky stuff.”
Damon swore silently. They were all aware that a lot of information was publicly accessible. The last thing they needed was some nosy reporter in their lives. “That case is over and has nothing to do with us.” He stepped to the side. “I would appreciate you leaving us alone.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then expect a restraining order from my lawyer.” Damon went back inside the coffee shop.
Jordan was talking softly to Crystal, as was Tessa. Max and Sierra were in a quiet conversation.
“I hate that woman,” Crystal said.
“She was fishing,” Damon said, and all eyes turned to him.
“What did she say?” Max asked.
“Nothing much. Mentioned Sage and Brady’s case, but that was it.” He went over to Tessa and pulled her to his side. Her lips were pressed tightly together. Was she upset because the reporter got a picture? He tucked her tighter to his side. “She’s nothing.”
“But she can cause trouble.” Sierra looked up at Max. “She knows the name of the club.”
“Public record. I have a business license
and a liquor license, even though we don’t use that,” Max said.
“There’s really nothing she can do but search public records. Everything we’ve done is legal,” Jordan said. “I should know. I made sure all the paperwork was executed properly.”
“We’ve never tried to hide that it’s a private club, and we don’t talk about who we see there,” Damon added.
“Do you think this will hurt business?” Sierra asked.
“What is she going to print? Pleasant Valley has a BDSM club?” Max snickered. “Hell, we’d most likely be overrun with people.”
Sierra laughed. “You’re probably right.”
“I wouldn’t worry. I told her if she continued to harass us, she’d find herself with a restraining order,” Damon said.
“No reporter wants that,” Crystal said, then yawned.
“That’s my cue,” Jordan said. “We both have work in the morning.”
“Yeah, we should be going too,” Max said.
“Max, catch a ride to my place?” Damon asked.
“Sure.”
They left the coffee house, and thankfully, the reporter was gone. “Give me a minute,” Damon said to Max. Damon walked Tessa to her car. “Dinner Friday?”
“I’d like that, but come to my place. I can cook.”
“All right.” He drew her against him. His body reacted. “Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“The reporter?”
“She didn’t upset me. I was more concerned with everyone else.”
Damon wasn’t so sure. Her shoulders were still stiff. But now wasn’t the time to confront her. Not in front of their friends. “All right. Until tomorrow night at the club.” Damon lowered his head. The second his lips touched hers, Tessa parted her mouth so he could explore. He tasted the chocolate in the mocha she’d had at the coffee shop.
He didn’t want to break the kiss. His dick was pulsing, wanting more. He wanted more. But not tonight. She had work tomorrow and so did he.
“Damon,” she whispered when he lifted his head.
“I know. But you need to work.” He opened her car door. “Drive home safely and call me once you’re home.”
“I will.” She climbed behind the wheel. “Club tomorrow night and dinner Friday.”
“I’ll be there. And I’ll bring dessert on Friday.”
Tessa grinned as she shut the door, rolled down the window, and started her vehicle. “I thought I was dessert.”
Before Damon could form an answer, she pulled out of her spot and drove out of the parking lot with a wave. Damon shook his head. He was going to have a boner all night now. He made his way to where Max’s SUV was parked and climbed in the back seat.
“Thanks for the ride home. I didn’t want Tessa to drive out and back.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t take her home with you,” Max said, pulling out onto the street.
“She has work tomorrow, but I considered it.”
Sierra turned in her seat. “Don’t hurt my friend, Damon.”
“I won’t.” He had no intentions of hurting Tessa. He was halfway in love with her. The thought should have scared him, but it didn’t. He was finding Tessa was very different from other women. In a way, perfect for him.
* * * *
Friday evening, Tessa pushed her hair away from her face. Okay, maybe cooking for Damon wasn’t one of her brightest ideas. She barely cooked for herself, and now she was cooking for him. To what? Impress him? Yeah, right. The recipe sounded so easy. Chicken Cordon Bleu. Her first problem had been pounding the chicken thin. She didn’t have a meat mallet or a rolling pin. The recipe said you could use a heavy pot.
She pulled out her biggest pot. Her soup pot. Put the chicken between the sheets of plastic wrap and started smashing it with the pot. After a couple of minutes, she looked at the chicken. It still looked too big. Ugh. She tried again, and again.
Now, that looked better. She looked at the picture in the recipe, okay maybe not as thin as it looked in the picture but good enough. Tessa layered in the ham and Swiss cheese, then rolled. The darn things wouldn’t stay rolled.
“Roll, you bastard. And stay that way.”
Frustrated, she put a toothpick in them and followed the instructions to put them in plastic wrap and refrigerate. While the chicken cooled, she prepared the eggs, flour, and bread crumbs.
She glanced at the clock. Dang, it was already five-thirty. She read the rest of the recipe quickly. This shouldn’t take too long. The timer dinged, and she took the chicken out of the fridge and unwrapped it.
Okay, dredge in flour, then the egg, and then breadcrumbs. She could do that. Except the chicken kept wanting to unroll. And what was she supposed to do with the chicken next? Crap! She forgot to put the oil in the pan.
Washing her hands, she grabbed a pan and poured in some olive oil and turned it on. She hated frying food, but she could do this. She placed the first piece of chicken in and jumped back as oil splattered.
“Damn it.” Tessa blew out a frustrated breath. Okay, let’s get the next one in there. She put the second one in, this time prepared for the splatter. Five minutes, then turn over. She set the timer and put the dishes in the sink.
Next was the sauce. Did they really need it? She decided they didn’t. The timer went off and when she went to turn the chicken it unrolled. “Son of a…” Using a spatula she pulled it out of the pan and put on the cutting board and tried to roll it again.
“Fuck!” She almost burned herself. How the hell was she going to roll this? Her doorbell rang. “Just a second.” She quickly washed her hands and went to the door. “Hey Damon, come in.”
He looked at her, curiosity in his eyes, as the loud screech of the smoke alarm sounded. “Oh shit!” She ran for the kitchen. She’d forgotten about the other piece of chicken. Smoke was coming from the pan. She grabbed it and threw it into the sink and turned on the water, then turned off the burner.
Fresh air wafted into the kitchen, and she saw Damon standing by the window he’d opened. “Dinner?”
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she nodded. “I…” Her voice wobbled. Couldn’t she even cook him a meal?
“Honey.” He enveloped her into his arms as she started to cry.
“I wanted so much to cook you dinner.” Tessa was disappointed in herself. She should have stuck to the basics; instead, she tried to show off. Damon was always cooking for her and made it look so darn easy, and she couldn’t even do a simple chicken recipe.
“It’s okay.” He rubbed her back.
“No, it’s not.” She leaned back in his arms. “That’s what I get for wanting to cook for you. A colossal failure. That’s me.”
His features froze. “There are certain things I won’t tolerate, and you calling yourself names is at the top of that list.”
“But it’s the truth.” She tried to pull out of his arms, but he tightened his hold.
“Tessa,” he started. “You are not a failure. The meal didn’t work for you. It happens.”
“Not to you.”
He laughed. “Trust me, I’ve burned plenty of things.” He leaned down and nuzzled her cheek. “I’ll give you cooking lessons, if it’s that important to you. I’m sure I can light your stove on fire.”
“Stop.” Laugher spilled from her lips. She stepped out of his embrace. “What a mess.”
“What were you trying to make?”
“Chicken Cordon Bleu.”
“What did you use to pound the chicken thin?” He glanced at the counter and the items now soaking in the sink.
“A pot. I don’t have a mallet or rolling pin.”
“Okay, do you have more ingredients for it?”
“Yes, I bought extra in case I screwed up, but I didn’t think about how long it would take.”
“Not long at all. First, let’s clean up, and I’ll walk you through how to make it.”
Tessa shrugged, not really sure she wanted Chicken Cordon Bleu at all now. “Maybe we can g
o out to eat.”
Damon grasped her around the waist and spun her to face him. “Together, we can do this. Come on, my spunky woman, where is your sense of adventure?”
His eyes twinkled, and Tessa’s mood lightened. “All right. Everything is in the fridge, top shelf.” Tessa threw out the burned food, scrubbed the pan, and put it back on the stove.
Damon set the ingredients out on the counter. “One of the tricks is to filet the chicken before you try to pound it.” He pulled out one of her knives and fileted the meat. “Now it will be easier to get thin. I’ll pound the chicken for you.” He put the chicken in the wrap and pounded it with the pot.
Tessa sighed. Sure, he could do it. Look at those muscles flexing as he brought the pot down on the chicken. In no time, the breasts were flat and thin.
“I think that’s where I went wrong. I didn’t cut them in half, and I couldn’t pound it hard enough.”
“You probably needed to work at it a little longer. and I’ll get you a mallet to use.” He transferred the chicken onto a plate. “You do the layering.”
She layered ham, cheese, ham, cheese, then looked up at Damon, who was right behind her.
“Now you roll it up.” He put his arms around her and guided her hands to the chicken. “You want to roll it a little loose so it will stay.” He instructed her.
A shiver went through Tessa’s body with Damon’s chest pressed against her back, his fingers directing hers. Within a few minutes they had two perfectly rolled chicken breasts. Was the kitchen hotter than it had been? Sweat trickled between her breasts.
“Now, using the plastic wrap, put one piece in.” He guided her once again. “Good, now grasp the ends of the wrap and twist it around.”
Why did “twist it around” sound dirty to her? Maybe because she wanted to twist around and jump his bones. They were cooking. What was wrong with her that she couldn’t stop thinking of sex? Oh yeah, they were cooking, all right. Tessa shook her head.
“See, now do the next one.” She did. “Good. In the fridge they go for thirty minutes as the recipe calls for. Then we fry them.”
“That seemed so simple.” With him helping. She placed the chicken in the fridge.
“Only because I was here with you. Now what shall we do while we wait?” His eyebrows rose, and mischief danced in his eyes.