by Cathryn Fox
Lucy gasped in dismay. “I will cheerfully kill the both of you if you’ve invited one of your many male cousins here to pair up with Sam. She’s just not ready for that. I don’t think she’s slept since she’s been here. She spends her nights swimming. I swear she’s developed gills. I’ve watched her—”
“Yes, I’ve noticed you’ve been missing from my side.” Suddenly, he laughed and pulled Lucy into his arms. “Don’t worry about it, darling. I have a feeling things will be changing. He’s not my relative. He’s going to be on your side of the family.”
A dark-haired, broad-shouldered man was sitting at one of the tables at the far end of the massive terrace. Pushing back his chair, he stood at the sound of heels clicking along the tiled edge of the pool.
Samantha came to an abrupt halt. She squinted, then closed her eyes tight, inhaling a deep, steadying breath. It was just a mirage. She wondered how long it would take before every man stopped looking like Adam. She opened her eyes. He was walking toward her, his face still in the shade but he was wearing the red plaid lumberjack shirt that she’d packed. Adam’s shirt. The shirt that she slept in every night.
“Hello, Samantha.”
His deep, sexy voice hit her in the back of her knees, rendering her off-balance. The lemonade pitcher slipped through suddenly lax fingers and splashed into the pool. “Adam?” Her voice came out a tiny squeak. Pushing her glasses tighter against her nose, she visually inhaled the man: bare feet, worn jeans, flannel shirt, sexy stubble, glittering green eyes.
“That’s going to do wonders for Ray’s pool. I thought we had agreed that you were going to postpone your trip to California.” His tone was gentle as he took in the dark smudges under her eyes that were magnified by her glasses.
Be cool. Be calm. Be a mature adult. He had found her. He was an arm’s length away. That had to mean…. Samantha squared her shoulders; glad her heels made her match his height. “The Italian sexpot not work out?”
There was that serious arm wrap and her tapping foot. There was also a smile she was trying not to twist those pouty lips into. “Who needs an Italian sexpot when I have you?” His mouth twitched, his hands reached out to frame her face. “Attitude adjustment, honey muffin!” Then he pulled her ram-rod straight body close, his fingers threading into her hair, forcing her head back before fastening his starving mouth on hers.
He had a lot of explaining to do. She steeled herself not to respond, to hold out but her emotions quickly betrayed her and with a little muffled whimper, looped her arms around his neck. Samantha reveled in the strong hands that molded her body tight against his. She could feel his trembling, it echoed her own.
It was with great difficulty that he let her go, his hands settled possessively at her waist. “For an intelligent woman, at times you do exhibit the most unpredictable behavior,” Adam smiled into her wide blue eyes, then straightened her glasses. “That’s just one of a million things I love about you. Do you have any idea what I went through when I found you had gone? Luckily your neighbor filled me in, thank God you left Diane an address. I had a small modicum of hope when I saw Morti was still wearing my hat.”
“I waited and you never returned any of my calls. Then I saw the newspaper articles and the photos. I didn’t stop calling and one night, your PR man, Ted, answered and—”
Adam’s fingers silenced her. “I know what he told you. I know what you must have thought. But we were both duped.” He explained what Ted had done. “What you read was pure publicity created by Ted to soothe an actress’s vanity at being publicly ignored. You’ve got to believe me, Sam, I never—”
This time, her fingers halted his words. “I do believe you, Adam. I trusted you from the beginning. It’s just…” she took a deep breath, determined to say what she felt. “I was so hurt and confused I just couldn’t think straight.”
“Don’t, Sam,” he held her close, stroking her hair. “I’m the one who should apologize. I thought I made it perfectly clear the way I felt about you.”
“You never actually said anything.”
“Actions speak louder than words,” his voice was thick with emotion before his mouth claimed hers, again and again. “I love you. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you. You will marry me, won’t you, Sam?”
“Do I get to meet your publicity man and punch him in the nose?”
“Well, it will match the bruise on his jaw. You can decide if he keeps his job.” Adam reached into his pocket. “Although he did refer me to a unique jeweler.” He smiled, watching her blue eyes widen. “It won’t replace Valley Forge Fudge but it is a little permanent chocolate you can carry with you.”
“Oh, my…” any further words caught in her throat as he slid an eternity band of chocolate diamonds on her finger. She was barely breathing, her right hand flattened against his heart.
“There’s a very nice wedding ring that goes with it. One for me too.” His eyes darkened. “I’ve made arrangements for us to fly to Nevada tomorrow with your sister and brother-in-law.”
“You were pretty sure of yourself.”
“You’re mine, Samantha, and I intend to make it legal,” Adam said forcefully, tightening his arms around her body. He leaned his forehead against hers. “Besides there’s just one more thing that needs your deft touch.” Adam reached for his belt holster and sighed.
Samantha watched him swipe a video into play. Barking assailed her ears, along with a few dire verbal threats. Then she watched a silver schnauzer puppy romp into view. The pup was dragging and shaking a blanket, then growling at the two pairs of hands that tried to catch him. “He’s been driving everyone nuts at our ranch since the afternoon of the testimonial dinner. He needs a name because so far it’s been: No. No, no, no! Oh, my God, No! Plus a few others that shouldn’t be repeated in mixed company. He is six pounds of trouble and he really needs an attitude adjustment.”
“Fine. Fine. Fine.” She threw her arms around his neck and laughed. “You and puppy kisses. What more could a woman ask for.”
Meet Elaine Raco Chase
If you like sassy, laugh out loud, contemporary romances – some more explicit than others – you have found the right author!
Reviewers have called them: “cat & mouse” – “slow burn” – “hot and steamy” – “highly addicting” – “solid characters & lots of humor” – “amazing reads!”
I call them fun! My heroines are NOT: thin, petite, clueless or submissive. They are strong women who aren’t looking for a man – until the right one comes along!
And those men! Tough-guy, alpha males who don’t know what hit them! But do know they want MORE!
I also write erotic mystery/thriller’s and the Agatha Christie nominated non-fiction “How to write the Amateur Detective Novel” which is in the FBI Forensic Library at Quantico.
You can find me:
www.elaineracochase.com
@ElaineRaco on twitter
https://www.facebook.com/elaineracochase
http://pinterest.com/elaineracochase/
Audible.com
Books by Elaine Raco Chase
Caught in a Trap – new release
Double Occupancy – (over 2 years on What to read after FSOG FB Top 50 list)
Special Delivery (four months on iTunes erotica bestsellers list – both eBook & audiobook)
Rules of the Game (voted by Turning Pages as #1 erotic romance of 2012)
Calculated Risk (top seller in over 30 countries)
Dare the Devil
Designing Woman
Video Vixen
Lady Be Bad
Best Laid Plans
No Easy Way Out – Retro-read classic
One Way or Another – Retro-read classic
All are available wherever eBooks are sold and at audible.com in audio
Forthcoming:
Roman Cantrell/Nikki Holden Mystery Series
Dangerous Places
Dark Corners
Rough Edges
New T
hriller: A Rare Medium, Well-Done
Cooking Class
V. J. Devereaux
Cooking Class Copyright © 2010 Valerie Douglas writing as V. J. Devereaux
Cover art by The Cover Counts
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from author.
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Discover other titles by Valerie Douglas
Fantasy
The Coming Storm
A Convocation of Kings
Heart of the Gods
Servant of the Gods
Romance
Irish Fling
Dirty Politics
Directors Cut
Two Up
Lucky Charm
Nike’s Wings
The Last Resort
As V. J. Devereaux
Demon’s Kiss
Demon’s Embrace
Blood Bound
Magic Bound
Dedication
To Erin, Anne Marie, Elizabeth and all my beta readers, thanks so much!
To the First Responders and EMTs everywhere, with my thanks for the lives you save every day.
And, of course and always, most of all to my beloved and patient husband (who says I’m schizophrenic, but it’s like having a different wife every night.)
Chapter One
The door at the front of the restaurant opened. Lily looked around the dining room, puzzled. All the students for her cooking class had already arrived. They were clustered around the small gas burners and simmering pots and pans at the utility station, hard at work. She held the class out here in the dining room once a week while the restaurant kitchen was cleaned. The space was redolent with the aromas of brown sugar, cinnamon, raspberries, all the slightly sweet scents of the dessert sauces the students were preparing as the project for the night’s class.
When the restaurant was open this was the station where the staff carved prime rib or prepared specialty desserts like Cherries Jubilee. She’d turned the workstation lights up so her students could see what they were doing, but left the rest of the lights off since the restaurant was closed. The brightness tended to cast the rest of the room in darkness. She looked up, slightly dazzled by the intensity of the lights and started to tell the newcomers the restaurant was closed.
Until she saw who one of them was.
Her breath caught, shuddered in her chest at the sight of the man who’d just walked into her restaurant. The line from the old movie Casablanca suddenly ran through her mind.
Of all the gin joints in all the world…
She couldn’t be seeing who she thought she saw. It couldn’t be him. Her heart twisted, the pain surprising, catching her off guard.
If her students caught sight of that all too familiar sculpted face or she said his equally familiar name she’d have a minor riot on her hands at the very least.
Clearly, the two men realized that as well. At the sight of her students they stepped quickly into the shadows at the front of the room and she shut her mouth just as swiftly. A few heads turned to look, but they were as blinded by the lights as she’d been.
Mentally she shook herself and redirected her attention to her class. Cooking was a joy, one she loved to share. She also loved to pass that pleasure on to others, to share her passion.
A kitchen was the one place she’d always felt comfortable as a child. Surrounded by all those amazing aromas she’d listened to the cooks talk while she waited for her mother to finish serving tables. That love was the reason she taught this class, but cooking could also be dangerous. The sugar in these sauces would cling and burn if spilled. She couldn’t afford to be distracted around them or around the gas burners and the little pots of fuel.
Somehow she managed to unscramble her senses enough to walk her students through the remainder of the lesson despite the way her pulse hammered wildly.
It was impossible. He couldn’t be here. It had to be her imagination, but all she had to do was look into the shadows to see the outline of that familiar, distinctive face and she knew it wasn’t. Those cheekbones and that sensual mouth didn’t belong to any other man.
Most of her students had been instructed to park at the back of the restaurant, but there were always one or two who forgot, which was why she’d left the front door unlocked. With reminders to them about where to park, she escorted her students out through the now clean kitchen, deliberately ignoring the two men who waited in the shadows at the front.
On the way back, she poured herself a steadying glass of wine, took a sip then straightened her shoulders and walked back out into the restaurant.
Her restaurant. Cavanaugh’s Place. This was her place, her home ground. Even so, for a moment, facing those two men, she didn’t know what to do or say.
She’d never imagined this, not in her wildest dreams. Her heart was in her throat, but she wouldn’t show it. She didn’t dare.
“Hello, Evan,” she managed finally. To her own ears her voice sounded surprisingly even.
They stepped out of the shadows.
Her heart wrenched and her breath caught at the sight of them. Of him, once again.
Master Chef Evan Taylor, enfant terrible of the kitchen, the host of his own cable cooking show and the man with whom she’d been madly and silently in love. In that she’d hardly been alone, half the female staff had been in love with him, and one or two of the male.
It wasn’t that she hadn’t dated in the years since, but she’d also been busy building up the restaurant, starting her cookbooks. The years had flown by. Even when she had, though, there’d always been something missing – that sense of towering passion and drive only a few possessed. Like Evan. Driven and ambitious herself, she needed someone who understood that.
She’d never been aware of being lonely, she had her clientele, knew her regulars by name and enjoyed stopping at their tables to talk. Over time she’d learned how to casually deflect questions about her personal life.
The other man she knew only from seeing him in television interviews with Evan – Dylan Bryant, the director of Evan’s show.
For the moment, though, her gaze was locked on Evan. It had been so long since she’d seen him. The sight of him rendered her silent.
Nothing had changed. He was still gorgeous, one of the most handsome men she’d ever known and even to say that was an understatement.
From the tumble of dark hair that spilled over his forehead to his incredibly sculpted features – perfect cheekbones, long-lashed blue eyes as clear as a highland lake and that firm mouth – he was simply beautiful. His face was incredibly expressive. It could transform in a breath from cool elegance to fierce and furious Scottish laird, seemingly barely tamed, especially when he w
ent into one of his rages. Which was frequently.
One of the most famous chefs in the world, he was enormously talented, incredibly creative, brilliant and volatile.
Had the thousands of his female fans known how well she’d once known him Lily knew she would’ve been the envy of them all. She’d once been blessed to see him with his shirt off – a quick impatient change of clothing in the back of his restaurant for a charity event – and could testify that the photos taken by the paparazzi didn’t do him justice. His chest was more perfectly muscled than it appeared in those pictures, his abs lean and firm, utterly delectable. Her mouth had watered and her pussy had dampened instantly just at the sight.
He was also as passionate, fierce and dedicated as he appeared on TV.
Like those thousands of other women, Lily had adored and admired him. Wanted him.
If she was honest with herself she still did. The instant he’d walked in the door her panties had gone damp and her nipples had tingled. Attraction had never been the issue.
She never thought she’d see him again, not here, not anywhere. Certainly not in her restaurant, and yet here he stood.
“Lily,” he said in response to her greeting.
His voice was as deep as she remembered, slightly accented, as rich as scotch and just as warm. Just the sound of it made her heart twist. That was ridiculous. The last time she’d seen him he’d shouted at her to leave, to get out.
So she had.
Leaving had cost her everything she’d worked for and broken her heart, but she’d done it. She’d had to and not just because he’d ordered it.
The other man held his hand out hastily to cover the awkward moment.
“Ms. Cavanaugh, I’m Dylan Bryant. I’m a huge fan of your cookbooks.”
He took her hand in his, his handshake warm, not too firm, not too soft. There was strength in it, and control.