Yes, Chef (Sizzle & Burn Book 1)

by Linda Verji

  “So where are you taking me, Mr. Teller?” she asked once they were well on their way to their destination.

  “I thought we could start with a little light entertainment then get something to eat later.” He reached into his jacket’s inside pocket and pulled out a pair of tickets. “I got these.”

  Snow plucked them from between his fingers then read, “Opera Omega presents Charlemagne’s Déjà vu… oh, it’s an opera performance.”

  Was that a note of disappointment in her voice? Greyson snuck a glance at her. “You don’t like?”

  “No. No. I like it,” Snow rushed to say with more enthusiasm in her voice. She smiled widely. “I’m sure it will be lovely.”

  He internally sighed in relief. He wanted her to have such a good time tonight that she’d agree to a second one easily. A few minutes later, they cruised into the theater’s underground parking lot. As he parked the car he asked, “What did Vina and April say when you told them that you and I were going for a date?”

  “I didn’t tell them,” Snow said as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

  He should’ve been happy about that, after all they’d promised that this date wouldn’t compromise their work relationship. The less people who knew about it, the better for them. Yet her reply sent disappointment streaking through him. He wasn’t exactly sure why but he wanted her friends to know about them.

  The moment they entered the lobby that led to the theater, Greyson realized that he’d been right to dress up. Everyone walking in was dressed to the nines in chic clothes and sparkling jewelry. He and Snow drew several curious glances. The stares could’ve been because of their difference in race, or because she looked so much better than the other women there. He chose to go with the latter reason.

  Inside the theater, he led Snow to their seats. They spent the few minutes before the performance started chatting about everything from her day to his. Once the performance started their conversation petered off, which was a pity since talking to Snow was one hundred times better than watching the show on stage. Frankly, operas weren’t Greyson’s thing. Many people found the endless singing mixed in with acting creative, beautiful and engrossing - he just found it boring. Barely ten minutes into the performance he was fighting drowsiness.

  Fortunately, Snow seemed into the performance. She was seated slightly forward in her seat with her eyes were wide open and trained on the stage. He found himself watching her instead of the show. His gaze lingered over her profile, marveled over how long her eyelashes were and swept over her thick lips. He was so engrossed in his observation of her that he didn’t turn away when she suddenly glanced in his direction. Once their eyes met, he couldn’t look away.

  There was something about her eyes that held him captive. It could’ve been a second, it could’ve been a minute, but that moment when they just stared at each other might as well have been an eternity. His heart started a rapid beat and his mouth dried up as every inch of him came to attention. Then she smiled, a slow sexy smile that upended his already shaky senses. Before he could recover, she’d already turned her attention back to the performance, leaving him feeling jittery and out of sorts.

  Damn! Now he was turned on. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he turned his own gaze back to the stage. With the help of the lullaby-like singing on stage he managed to settle his racing pulse and throbbing senses but by that time the show was already over.

  “That was good,” he said as they walked out of theater. He racked his mind for something complimentary to say before settling on, “The main actress really had a good voice.”

  “You mean the main actor?” she asked.

  “The main actor?” He could’ve sworn the singer was wearing a dress but he couldn’t be sure because he’d been preoccupied with trying to keep his gaze away from Snow.

  “Mm hmm. Don’t you remember? It was a man dressed as a woman to fit the performance’s theme.”

  “Oh, of course I remember.” He nodded. Afraid that she’d ask him what the performance’s theme was, he changed the subject, “So what do you think about seafood for dinner. I booked us a table at Sebastian.”

  “Oh!” This time her disappointment was as clear as daylight.

  “You don’t like seafood?”

  “I do. I do,” she said quickly, but it wasn’t enough to fool him.

  “You don’t.” He offered, “We can go somewhere else if you want.”

  She bit her lip as she gave him a doubtful look. “Can we?”

  “We can.” Taking out his phone, he said, “I want you to have a great time tonight so let me know what you want to eat and I’ll find a place for us to go.”

  “Actually, I already know where I want to go.” Her eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “There’s a street-food festival just a block away from here. I hear they’ve got everything there; food-trucks, performances by indie bands, local merchants selling handmade stuff… I heard they might even show a movie.”

  He’d heard about the festival too but so much of that stuff happened around here that he hadn’t taken any notice. However, the way Snow’s eyes lit up as she described the festival had him itching to see it too. Chuckling, he said, “I guess we have a new plan.”

  “Yay!” She grinned but a moment later her face fell. “Wait, it’s almost nine. They’ve probably closed down.”

  He hated to see that disappointment on her face and found himself saying, “Why don’t we go check it out anyway? Maybe they’re still there.”

  Within minutes they were on their way to the festival grounds. Fortunately, the festival was still going strong when they arrived. They weren’t the only ones with the bright idea of attending it. The grounds were packed with people milling between the food-trucks and stands while others swayed along to the tunes of the dad-band rocking on stage. Compared to everyone else, he and Snow were over-dressed but that didn’t seem to matter to Snow.

  “Look, they’re selling lobster wraps there.” She excitedly pointed at a truck a few feet from them. “I haven’t eaten those in such a long time. Let’s start there.” But a second later, her attention shifted to another truck. “No… No… let’s start with the kimbap. God, my mouth is already watering.”

  “Anything you want.” He laughed.

  She was like a kid in a toy-shop – wanting to touch, buy, see or eat everything. Her enthusiasm was so contagious that even Greyson, who was a picky eater, ended up tasting stuff he normally wouldn’t. He had to admit that the laid-back, cheerful atmosphere here was more of his speed than that opera theater. They ended up seated at a picnic table a few feet from the stage eating chicken sliders, drinking lemonade and chatting.

  “I didn’t take you for a street-food kind of girl,” Greyson commented as he took a healthy bite of his slider.

  “That’s exactly the kind of girl I am. Mm….” She closed her eyes as she chewed slowly as if to better savor her meal. “Sooo good.”

  Her expression had him wondering if that was how she’d look in the throes of passion. The way she licked her lips had him aching to lean across the table so he could taste that deliciousness himself. He shook his head to get rid of his errant thoughts before commenting, “From opera to indie bands; you’re a bundle of contradictions.”

  She opened her eyes and studied him. “Can I be honest?”

  “Sure, hit me.”

  “I’m not really an opera girl,” she confessed, a sheepish look in her eyes. “The whole time we were there I was praying for the torture to end.”

  “What?” Genuine surprise shot through Greyson. “But you were so into it.”

  Snow wrinkled her nose. “That’s because you were into it and I didn’t want to ruin the show for you. The truth is I hate singing in plays or movies. Heck, I refuse to watch Glee just for that reason.”

  Greyson burst into laughter. Whoever had said women were complicated creatures had it right, and Snow was the most complicated of them all. Every time he thought she was going to zig, she zagged, revealing yet anot
her layer of herself. The thought of unwrapping every one of her layers sent thrilling anticipation coursing through him.

  * * * * *

  AS SNOW HAD been preparing for tonight, she’d been worried that this date would be an awkward disaster. She hadn’t been on an official date with someone new in such a long time that she was afraid that she’d forgotten how to make small talk. But she had to admit that the date was going well, and she was having a good time. Not a moment had gone by that she and Greyson were lost on what to talk about.

  “Aw, come on. You’re lying.” Snow gaped at him as they strolled past several stalls. “There is no way you were an outcast in high school. You look like prime-jock material.”

  “I wasn’t much to look at then.” He explained, “I was skinny and dorky. To make matters worse, I was into cooking which isn’t very jock-ish.”

  “Ah, so you were hit by the cooking bug early, huh?” she asked as she came to a stop beside a stall selling sandals.

  “Yeah.” Greyson nodded. “I knew I wanted to be a chef right from middle-school.”

  “Middle-school?” Her eyes widened in surprise. Not many people were single-minded and disciplined enough to pursue and accomplish their childhood dreams. “You must’ve been quite a determined kid.”

  “Hmm.” Greyson simply shrugged. “What about you? When did you know that you wanted to be a chef?”

  “I didn’t know know that I wanted to be a chef. I just liked cooking. It was my mom’s favorite thing to do and I guess I picked it up from her.” She strolled to the next stall, one selling handmade jewelry, and stopped to browse. “While in my fourth year of med-school, I participated in a home-cooks competition – and won. That’s when I realized that it was something I wanted to do professionally.”

  “I still can’t believe you walked out of medical school.” His eyes narrowed. “Are you sure they didn’t kick you out?”

  “What are you trying to say? That I wasn’t smart enough to cut it?” she protested.

  “I didn’t say it, you did,” Greyson teased, a smile dancing on his lips.

  “Ouch!” She clasped a hand to her heart and threw him a look of mock-hurt. “That hurt!”

  “Aw, I’m sorry.” Despite his words, his smile got wider. “Are you mad?”

  She drew her lips into a pout and nodded.

  “Hmm, I guess I’ll have to make it up to you.” His gaze wandered downwards to the necklace she was holding. “Do you like that?”

  Snow nodded. “It’s pretty.”

  “It’s only ten dollars.” The seller immediately jumped in with a pitch. Despite Snow’s protest that he didn’t need to buy it for her, Greyson haggled with the seller and finally got it for seven dollars.

  “Aw, you really didn’t need to.” Snow smiled as she twirled the necklace around her fingers, admiring the pretty flower pendant. She’d received more expensive gifts before yet this small, cheap trinket made her feel warmer than any other gift ever had just because it was from Greyson. “Thank you.”

  “Can I put it on you?” he asked.

  “Sure.” She handed the necklace to him. The moment he stepped behind her, she realized that it was a mistake. The easy atmosphere around them had lulled her into a false sense of security and into forgetting how powerfully Greyson could affect her. But now that he was so close all her muted awareness of him flared.

  Her heart leapt when he took a step closer to hers. His body wasn’t flush against hers but she could feel the heat of him warming her back, heating her blood. And when he reached in front of her with the necklace in hand, heat rushed up to her face and a slight tremor raced through her body. Snow found herself riveted in place, unable to even draw a breath as he set the necklace around her neck. His finger brushed against her nape as he hooked the necklace, sending sparks zipping to the rest of her body.

  “There.” He smoothed his fingers over her nape before stepping away from her. “It looks nice on you.”

  “Um… uh thanks,” she stammered breathlessly trying to rein in her rattled senses. Thankfully, Greyson didn’t notice how rattled she was because the graphic t-shirts in the next stall drew his attention. His rapt study of the t-shirts gave her the time she needed to catch her breath.

  The rest of the evening went by smoothly. They talked about the difficulties of medical school, high school crushes, the countries he’d been to while trying to learn about the world’s cuisine, who he’d met during his travels... everything. Greyson had lived quite an interesting life, and she wanted to know all about it. Unfortunately, time wasn’t standing still. They had to leave the festival grounds when most of the stall owners started packing up. By that time, it was eleven going on midnight – too late for them to do anything other than go home.

  “I had a great time tonight,” Snow said as they drove into her complex.

  “Even at the opera?” he teased as he pulled up in front of her building.

  She laughed. “Okay, except at the opera. Everything else was amazing.”

  Though his smile remained intact, his gaze became more intense. “Does that mean that I get a second date?”

  His question caught her off-guard. Their date was just ending and already he was asking for another one? What happened to ‘just one date’? Her common sense told her that going further than this was a mistake especially when she was just coming out of a twelve-year relationship. The rest of her was screaming ‘Screw that. I just want to spend more time with Greyson’. So she went with a tentative nod. “Sure.”

  “Good.” A wide smile creasing his lips, he unbuckled his seatbelt then exited the car. A moment later, he opened the door for her and she exited the car.

  She wanted to ask him when their next date would be, but she wasn’t that brave yet so she said, “Well, I guess this is goodnight-”

  Her words halted when Greyson took a step closer to her. Close enough that she could feel his breath on the bridge of her nose. Close enough that she could inhale his tangy, masculine scent. Close enough that when she lifted her gaze to his, all she saw were his lips.

  Her breathing shortened, her pulse skipped a beat and awareness like she’d never felt before rushed through her. She lifted her gaze to his and found him staring at her with an intensity that sent piercing thrill through her. When his tongue peeked slightly between his lips and flicked along his bottom lip as if he was thinking of kissing her, every inch of her throbbed with anticipation; her lips, her skin, her breasts, her core.

  She wanted to pull away from him. She wanted to get closer to him. She licked her suddenly dry lips before murmuring a shaky, “Greys-”

  Her breath whooshed from her lungs when he grasped her upper arm and pulled her flush against him, molding her softness to his much harder frame. Then his head was lowering, lowering, lowering…

  Their lips melded. So shocked was she by the suddenness of the kiss that she froze; eyes open, mouth motionless, arms pressed stiffly to the side of her body. But when he pulled on her lower lip and suckled it, her lips parted in a gasp. He took advantage to push his tongue into her mouth… and she was lost.

  Her eyes drifted shut as her body softened, melted and opened up to him. He cupped her face and waist while twisting his mouth over hers in long, searching kisses, each more tender than the last. When she gave a soft little sigh, he angled his head and pressed deeper, exploring, tasting, seducing. The kiss was soft, slow and completely consuming. It held her transfixed, and she found herself lifting her arms to surround his neck.

  Greyson’s response was a low groan that rumbled between them like a mating call. His arms closed around her in a tight band and dragged her closer until she could feel the thick ridge of his erection pressing into her stomach as they kissed. She relaxed helplessly against him while a heavy delicious ache formed in her breasts, low in her stomach and between her thighs.

  Then when he had her weak and willing to do anything he wanted, he pulled back. With one last peck, he said, “Goodnight, Snow.”

  W
ith that he got into his car and drove off, leaving her wishing that he’d given her more.

  CHAPTER 8

  The previous night’s date and heated goodnight kiss would’ve knocked anyone off their game. Anyone but Greyson. The man was annoyingly professional.

  “How many minutes on Table Four’s pizzas?” Greyson boomed at Snow.

  “Taking them out of the oven, Chef,” Snow shouted back breathlessly as she pulled the oven’s door open. A rush of heat and the delicious scent of cheese blasted her face immediately.

  “Risotto?” Greyson asked

  “Also ready,” Vina called out. “Snow, I’m walking the risotto to the window.”

  “I’m right behind you.” Snow pulled the pans out of the oven then carried them to the window where Greyson was waiting to plate the pizzas.

  He didn’t look at her as he tossed her a distracted, “Thanks,” before sending her away to work on the next order. Snow strode back to her station feeling more than a little disappointed. Pounding the pizza dough with more force than was necessary, she mulled over Greyson’s ‘professionalism’.

  Was he as immune to her as he seemed? Was she the only one whose breath caught whenever they came close to each other? Was she the only one who wanted to feel his arm brushing against hers whenever they walked past each other in the kitchen? Was she the only one who wanted to smile every time their eyes met?

  Or maybe she was crazy.

  After that kiss who wouldn’t be? Fortunately, she seemed to have mastered the art of hiding her ‘craziness’ because no one confronted her about giving Greyson strange looks or smiles.

  The day flew by in a rush of orders and diners, and soon they were working on dinner service. Friday nights were the busiest nights at Tellers and Snow was left with little time to wallow in her Greyson obsession. She was working on an order of chicken kiev when April rushed into the kitchen and straight to her station.

  April sidled next to her and in a low voice murmured, “You need to come to the front-desk.”