by Tami Lund
It had been so...comfortable. That was exactly the right word. Comfortable. Emily Kate had never slept with a guy on the first date before—and certainly not without a date at all—and yet with Connor, she felt far more relaxed than she had with any guy she’d dated, ever.
Could it be? For God’s sake, she hadn’t even known the man for a full twenty-four hours, and here she was, entertaining fanciful thoughts of love at first sight. It didn’t really happen that way. Did it?
To be fair, her brother and Kennedy had been something of a love-at-first-sight scenario, although they spent several weeks denying it, and Kennedy had nearly died before Jack had been willing to admit it, but still—it had happened. Her grandparents had claimed to have fallen in love at first sight, too. Her parents’ story was a tad different—her mother had been dating someone else when they met, and the way her father told the story, he had to scare off the competition before her mother would give him the time of day, but he insisted he’d fallen in love the first time he saw her.
Love at first sight apparently ran in her family.
Jack would hate Connor the instant he met him. She was as positive of that fact as she was that she would not be spending the night alone tonight. In fact, that was exactly why her brother would hate Connor. Well, that and his smile.
His overprotective nature was exactly the reason she kept her love life a secret from her brother—when she had one, at any rate. Considering he lived in New Orleans, this should be a feasible option, at least for the short term. Although his surprise visit certainly threw a wrench into that plan.
“Earth to Emily Kate. Hello-o-o. You in there somewhere?”
She blinked rapidly and focused on Kennedy. “Sorry. Did I just zone out?”
Kennedy laughed. “You sure did. Was it a juicy fantasy? Spill, sister.”
She felt her face heat. She’d blushed more frequently since meeting Connor than she probably had in the last year all together. She cleared her throat and shook her head.
“Just thinking about everything I have to get done today.”
Becca, the full-time day shift server, approached their table and poured wine for each woman before asking if they were ready to order.
“We definitely need a basket of Pierre’s sweet potato and pecan muffins,” Wendy immediately replied.
“Well, they aren’t Pierre’s anymore,” Becca said as she scribbled the order onto a notepad. “But a new batch just came out of the oven, and I tried one, and they are out of this world. I’ll go grab you a basket and be right back.” Before anyone could respond, she hurried away from the table.
Wendy and Kennedy both shifted their focus to Emily Kate. “What did she mean, they aren’t Pierre’s anymore?” Wendy asked. “I love Pierre’s muffins. Why is someone else making muffins?”
“Because Pierre’s girlfriend, Shelby, was jealous of the time he spent at the restaurant. She gave him an ultimatum: her or Louisiana Kitchen. Like any red-blooded male, he chose her. But it’s okay. I’ve already found a replacement.” Boy, had she. Mrs. Henry had called to let her know she was bringing the entire bridge club in later this afternoon. And Emily Kate had already taken twice as many reservations as normal for a Friday evening. Connor was turning out to be good for her in more ways than one.
“We’ll just see about that,” Wendy said as she watched Becca head toward them, a breadbasket on her tray, steam billowing behind her. She’d barely placed it on the table before the elder woman snatched a muffin and slathered it with butter.
“The butter’s new, too,” Becca supplied. “The new chef added orange zest and some other ingredients to spice it up.”
Emily Kate held her breath as Wendy took a bite of her muffin. Her eyes widened and she made a strange, almost sexual noise.
“Sakes alive, this is the best muffin I have ever tasted. My Lord!” The woman shoved the rest of the roll into her mouth, extolling its virtues as she chewed. It was highly unladylike and terribly reassuring. While Emily Kate had no control over Connor’s appearance in her restaurant yesterday, she knew she would be forever grateful to whatever aspect of fate led him to her. Even if the other perks of their relationship didn’t pan out, Wendy St. George’s reaction to his sweet potato and pecan muffins was worth it.
“Bring that chef out here,” Wendy demanded. “I want to meet this god.”
Kennedy sputtered and laughed. “God? Really, Mother.”
“You think I’m joking?” She shoved the basket toward her daughter. “Try one.”
Kennedy obligingly did as she was told. Her eyes widened and she nodded eagerly. “She’s right. These are seriously the best muffins I have ever tasted in my life.”
Emily Kate pulled one out of the basket. “Even though everyone believes it was Pierre’s recipe, it was really my papaw’s. I’ve been chowing on these muffins since I was able to eat.” She took a bite. It was moist and slightly crumbly, with a strong hint of sweet potato and pecan, and undertones of cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on. But it was definitely not anything she had ever tasted in sweet potato and pecan muffins before.
“Oh my God, y’all are right,” she admitted, as she finished off the first muffin and immediately snagged another.
Wendy waved her hand. “Go get him. I want to meet him.”
She hesitated. What if Connor did something suggestive or inappropriate, something that might alert Wendy and Kennedy to the fact that they had slept together last night—and this morning? Kennedy would surely tell Jack, and Emily Kate did not need her brother storming into the restaurant and scaring Connor away. Not after the way he made her feel last night.
Not after eating that muffin.
“He’s, uh, he’s really busy at the moment. Prepping for dinner. Trying a new recipe tonight.” She had no idea if that was true, but it was certainly reasonable. According to Connor, most of the options on the menu were new to him. Plus, he’d told her he liked to run nightly specials as well. He undoubtedly was extremely busy.
“Nonsense,” Wendy said, and when Becca stopped by again to see if they were ready to order meals, she demanded the server go get the chef so they could compliment his muffins.
“No, that really isn’t—” But it was too late. Becca was gone, hurrying through the restaurant toward the swinging door leading into the kitchen.
Emily Kate grabbed her wineglass, took a swig, and said a little prayer that Connor acted like a gentleman. She did not know him well enough to anticipate how he would react to her family, and yet she’d done things with him that were far more intimate than anything she’d ever done with any other man in her acquaintance. They were certainly going about this relationship, if that was even the right term, in a convoluted way.
When he walked out of the kitchen, all three women—and every other woman in the place—stopped what they were doing to watch. He had pulled the black chef’s hat off, and his spiky, dark hair was in disarray, but not a bad disarray. More of a bedhead-like disarray.
Or maybe that was just her, because her mind certainly shifted immediately to the way he’d looked when he woke up this morning.
His white chef’s coat was impressively clean, despite the fact that he’d been in the kitchen for several hours by this point. He wore the same jeans he’d had on yesterday. Emily Kate found herself anticipating the view when he eventually left their table. She’d damn near had a stroke this morning when she watched him climb out of the shower, naked. The man had the tightest butt cheeks; she suspected she could bounce a quarter off each one in turn. What she’d really wanted to do was bite each one in turn.
Maybe tonight.
His blue eyes sparkled with mischief, and she felt herself falling under his spell as one side of his scrumptious mouth lifted into that crooked smile that had snagged her just yesterday. She knew every woman in the restaurant was watching him, and single or not, they were all wondering at his status. She was ready to herd him right back to the kitchen and stak
e her claim again.
“Oh, my,” Wendy said, her voice breathy. One hand lifted and cupped her neck, while the other fumbled around on the tablecloth as she searched for her wineglass without pulling her gaze away from the chef heading in their direction.
“That’s your new chef?” Kennedy asked, her voice vibrating with disbelief.
Emily Kate nodded.
“I think my panties just combusted.”
Emily Kate and Kennedy both swiveled their heads around to stare at the elderly woman.
“What?” Wendy asked innocently. “Just because I’m old doesn’t mean I’m dead. Land sakes, Kennedy, your daddy never looked half that good in his prime, and I was so hot to trot for him I could barely stand upright whenever he was around.”
Kennedy slapped her forehead while Emily Kate clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle the giggle.
“Hello, ladies,” Connor said in his smooth midwestern accent. His face lit with a warm, welcoming smile, and his gorgeous blue eyes sparkled.
All three women stared in silence for several heartbeats, until Wendy grabbed a napkin and began fanning herself. “Is it warm in here? I think you should turn the air down a notch, Emily Kate.”
Connor chuckled softly. Emily Kate choked and nearly sputtered wine all over her schedule and the table.
Kennedy giggled. “Don’t mind us,” she said to Connor. “We’re just family.”
“Oh yeah?” He cocked a dark eyebrow.
Emily Kate cleared her throat. “Um, Connor, this is my sister-in-law, Kennedy Boudreaux, and her mother, Wendy St. George.”
Connor shook each woman’s hand, and Emily Kate had the distinct impression he was actually considering kissing the back of their hands. It wasn’t even necessary, as both women had become simpering puddles of goo.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ladies. I can tell you are both just as charming as Emily Kate.”
“Oh, my.” Wendy nearly swooned.
It was time to rein in the chaos. “They wanted to let you know in person that your sweet potato and pecan muffins are wonderful.”
His teasing, almost sly look shifted to innocent happiness, as if he was honestly thrilled with the praise. “Really? I modified the recipe a little, and I was going to try them first before sending them out here, but Becca grabbed them before I could.”
Wendy shoved the basket at him. “Try one. Really. They’re to die for.”
Connor pulled one out from under the linen cloth and took a generous bite. After he chewed and swallowed, he nodded. “Not bad.”
“Not bad?” Wendy sputtered indignantly. “Those are the best damn muffins I’ve ever had.”
Connor grinned so widely, Emily Kate half expected his face to crack. “Well, thank you. I appreciate the compliment.”
“Where are you from, son?”
He lifted his arm to cup the back of his neck. “Detroit, originally.”
“I knew it,” Wendy said with a self-satisfied nod. “Your accent,” she explained.
His answering smile was sheepish. “Can’t take the Midwest out of the boy, I guess.”
“What’s your specialty? Besides these amazing muffins, I mean?”
“Well, my standing rib roast is supposedly the best in the state of Michigan, but I doubt very much that’s something we’re interested in adding to the menu here.”
“It sounds divine,” Wendy assured him, as the sixty-year-old woman rested her chin on her fist and batted her eyelashes at the chef. Connor’s eyes twinkled, and Emily Kate could tell he was holding back a laugh.
“What I really want to do is get a handle on Cajun cooking,” Connor continued. “Are you interested in being my guinea pigs this afternoon?”
“We’ll try anything you want to give us,” Wendy replied.
Good God, the woman was twice his age! At least, Emily Kate assumed she was. She actually wasn’t sure how old Connor was. For as intimately as they’d gotten acquainted last night, she sure didn’t know much about him.
“I’ll get to work then.” He winked at Emily Kate and walked away.
“Oh, Connor, dear?” Wendy called out, and he turned around.
“Don’t forget another round of sweet potato and pecan muffins, sugar,” she cooed.
“Of course.”
Kennedy immediately leaned across the table and grabbed Emily Kate’s arm. “Oh my God, that man is smokin’ hot! How did you find him, and is he single?”
“Kennedy, you’ve only been married to my brother for two months.”
Her sister-in-law rolled her eyes. “Not for me, silly. For you.”
“That would be wonderful,” Wendy added, still fanning herself with the napkin. “Then he can come to every family function.”
“You would expect Connor to cook at every family function?”
“No, not at all. I just want to look at him.”
Kennedy choked on a laugh. Emily Kate was grateful for Becca, who reappeared with a fresh basket of muffins with which to distract her guests.
***
Her sister-in-law and that woman’s mother? That was half a step away from Emily Kate’s own mother making an appearance. What the hell was he getting himself into here? Why the hell was he sweating it, worried about making the perfect dish, impressing a group of women who were essentially strangers?
Okay, so he couldn’t technically count Emily Kate as a stranger, not after what they’d done last night. Just watching her put on makeup this morning had turned him on. Hanging out while a woman prepped for her day was not his usual modus operandi. He was more of a get in, get out kind of guy. Sure, he dated, but it was always superficial. Pick her up at her door, take her to the latest hotspot, take her home, bang her, leave, repeat until bored or something better came along. There was always something better, and he had never had the time to dedicate to a relationship anyway—or rather, the desire to make the time. His job always came first.
Not to mention all the other shit going on in his life right now. Hell, the people he’d gotten mixed up with were straight out of a freaking mafia movie. What if they figured out where he was? What if they hurt Emily Kate?
His hand froze on the spoon he was using to mix batter. He didn’t want Emily Kate to get hurt. Truthfully, he didn’t want anyone to get hurt, but the idea of the guys who were after him getting ahold of Emily Kate made his blood run cold through his veins. He’d only spent a few days there, but he’d seen enough to know breaking her legs or burning down her restaurant were not out of the question for those creeps, if they suspected Connor had told her what he’d experienced while hanging out at the Lucky Belle Casino.
The train of his thoughts made him want to rush out into that dining room, scoop her over his shoulder, shove her into her car, and drive as far away from this place as possible. Alaska was sounding pretty damn good at the moment.
What the hell was he thinking? First of all, he couldn’t take off with the damn woman like they were living in caveman days. Second, they didn’t know each other well enough for him to have these thoughts. Third, this was not exactly the right point in his life for him to suddenly start thinking in terms of a relationship.
He should have had the talk with her this morning. But he’d been distracted by her excitement over breakfast, the easy way with which she chatted about the restaurant, the sincerity with which she told him he could make any changes to the menu he wanted, because she believed in him. Already.
Shit.
Connor needed to get his head on straight. And fast. While holding Emily Kate in his arms and overseeing the kitchen at her restaurant certainly made it easy for him to forget his troubles, the truth was, he had to make some choices soon. And he had a feeling those choices did not involve him staying on at Louisiana Kitchen—or shacking up with the owner—for very much longer.
Curiously, the idea of leaving her bed was the one that bothered him the most. Cooking had always come first for him. He had never put half as much effort into relationships as he had into
his career. And until she had allowed him to push his way into her kitchen, it had never paid off to the level it should have.
The boat he’d stolen yesterday was still parked at the dock in front of the restaurant. His clothing and shaving kit were presumably still in the suite the casino had put him up in when they’d asked him to come down for an interview. The truck he’d rented was presumably still parked at the marina on the other end of the lake. His wallet was probably devoid of credit cards and cash, lying at the bottom of a dumpster somewhere. His credit would go to shit if he didn’t call and cancel his cards soon.
And all he could think about as he whipped up a batch of crawfish étouffée was how many hours were left before he could get Emily Kate naked again.
He needed to stop with that thought process and try to work out a plan, at least a short-term one. He’d used the toothbrush she provided this morning and a pink plastic disposable razor he hoped he would never have to touch again. He wore the same clothes he’d worn yesterday. At some point, the rest of the staff would notice that he kept wearing the same shirt and jeans every day.
As frustrating as the situation was, Connor focused instead on preparing lunch for Emily Kate and her family. He lost himself in the process of sautéing onions and celery, adding butter, parsley, red bell peppers, and spices to the mix. He sprinkled in just enough flour to thicken the sauce but not enough to turn it into a roux, as Pedro had explained the roux was for crawfish stew, an entirely different dish.
When he poured in the shelled crawfish tails, he felt the tension leave his shoulders, the stress seep out of his mind. This was how it always was for him. The cooking, it was his therapy. He had no worries, no cares in the world when he was preparing food. All the other shit just went away.
As it should be, at least right now. Emily Kate was out there in the dining room, entertaining her family. Even if he did plan to eventually leave her, even if she would probably hate him if she figured out his current secret, for the moment, he was in charge of her kitchen and he would very likely be warming her bed again tonight.