The Flirtation Game: Castle Ridge Small Town Romance

by Allie Burton

  Was he trying to take the heat off the flirting or was he being a jerk? Had his sister quizzed him about their relationship and made him realize he’d gotten in too deep and wanted out? Or what if Danielle figured out how Isabel felt, and warned Michael, and he was running scared?

  “Isabel, a diner wants to talk to the chef about the noisette d’agneau.” By his hard voice, it must be a complaint about the small piece of lamb she’d prepared.

  “And?” The stew in her heart overcooked, fueled by resentment and insecurity.

  “Since you prepared the main meal, you should come with me.” Not a muscle on his face moved. No hint to what was really going on in his mind.

  Her stomach tightened. He was going to send her out to be crucified by a diner. “I’ve got a bunch of things to complete.”

  He was the head chef. He got the accolades. He should get the insults.

  “This is not a request. It’s an order.”

  An order striking a blow. What had happened to the fun and playful guy he’d been last night? Or the sweet guy he’d been while delivering leftovers to the food pantry? She wanted to ask, but couldn’t with the cameras rolling.

  She slammed down a dish and followed him out of the kitchen. The clatter of silverware and china could barely be heard over the buzz in her brain. Anger at his attitude today caused her to question how their relationship could go forward and dimmed the light of her love.

  They stopped at a table with an older man and young woman dressed in an understated designer dress.

  “I’m Chef Michael Marstrand and this is my sous chef Isabel O’Donnell.” His conciliatory tone was the exact opposite of how he’d spoken in the kitchen. “You wanted to speak with us?”

  This was the Michael the television audience saw. The one the diners saw. He was the reason The Heights had been filled to capacity every night since reopening. If she’d become head chef, people wouldn’t have been curious and flocked here. Parker had made a good business decision in hiring Michael. Just not about the reality show. Her shoulders sagged and her confidence waned.

  The older man with a balding head held out his hand. “I wanted to compliment you on the entire meal, especially the lamb.”

  Her jaw slackened. Her tight muscles loosened. This wasn’t a complaint. It was a compliment.

  “Chef Isabel prepared the noisette d’agneau.” Michael beamed as if she’d created sliced bread.

  She brightened. She should’ve known he wouldn’t have sent her out to be eaten alive by complaining diners, even though he’d been a jerk. He’d wanted her to hear the compliment.

  The man’s wrinkled hand shot out. “It was spectacular. Such a difficult maneuver.”

  She shook his hand. “Thank you. Are you a chef?”

  “I own a couple of restaurants.”

  Her interest piqued. Nearby?

  “Father.” The woman sitting next to him shook her head, chastising. “You’ve taken up enough of their time.” The dark-haired daughter gave them a perfect-but-uncomfortable smile. “The meal was wonderful. Thank you so much.”

  “We’re glad you enjoyed it.” Even more glad she got to hear about it.

  “Have a nice night.” Michael placed his hand on her lower back and veered her toward the kitchen. “I knew you’d appreciate being there to receive a direct compliment, especially after the way I behaved.”

  “You knew they enjoyed the food?”

  “What did you think?” He studied her face while warmth crept up her skin. “You thought I was taking you out there to be slaughtered?”

  “I…um…” He’d been acting an idiot. What should she have expected?

  “You did.” His voice lowered to a hurt tone.

  “You sounded so harsh when you told me to come—”

  “Michael, Isabel.” Parker peered from the small hallway between the kitchen and the back offices. “I need to talk to you in my office.”

  “We’re busy.” Michael continued toward the kitchen.

  “It won’t take long, and it’s important.” The lodge owner peered nervously into the restaurant, as if one of the diners might bite.

  “Thanks for letting me hear the compliment,” she said as they followed Parker into the office and he slammed the door behind them.

  “What were you two doing talking to George and Shey Webber?” Parker sounded as though he hated them.

  “You mean the older man and his daughter?” The thrill of their praise glowed inside her.

  “Oh, don’t let the father-daughter act fool you.” Pouring himself a drink, he gulped down the contents. “They are the Bonnie and Clyde of the resort industry.”

  “They were nice.”

  “They complimented Isabel.” Michael gave her even more credit.

  “They’re trying to worm their way into your good graces and steal you away.” Parker poured himself another drink.

  Michael shared a look with her. “We both have contracts with you.”

  “Contracts are meant to be broken.”

  “I wish.” He muttered so low only she heard.

  She totally agreed.

  “Remember how you tricked me and your entire staff, Parker?” She couldn’t help her anger. She was still mad. “If I could’ve gotten out of the reality TV part, I would have.”

  Of course, she wouldn’t have gotten to play the flirtation game. But the game was becoming more real and the consequences higher. A dum-du-dum drummed in her head. She heard the background music of her own demise. The real-versus-fake relationship confused, and she wasn’t sure what Michael really felt.

  “You know I’m sorry.” Parker took another sip and waved the glass. The brown liquid sloshed. “And the reason I was desperate was because of that father-daughter despicable duo.”

  His intense hatred was unusual. What had they done to cause his desperation?

  “He did say he owned a couple of restaurants.” Michael’s casual tone actually dug for more information.

  “That’s what he told you?” Parker’s voice rose. “He owns Webber Resorts. The ski operations, the hotels and lodges, and many of the restaurants. He owns the same resort trying to obliterate Castle Ridge Lodge.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  With the unpleasantness of Parker’s accusations behind, Michael returned to the kitchen with Isabel to cleanup and begin prep for tomorrow. Some of the staff had already clocked out, so the kitchen was emptier and quieter, and he didn’t resume his jerk act. Still, he didn’t want to discuss Parker’s revelations in front of the camera. If Webber Resorts took control of Castle Ridge Lodge what would happen to Isabel?

  Albert was doing dishes with his back to them. Earl wore earbuds and was chopping vegetables.

  Isabel worked on preparations for the next day. She had a bag of flour, eggs, and a couple of other items set out by a large metal mixing bowl filled with a pasty dough.

  “Mixing up something tasty?” Michael moved next to her and dipped a clean spoon into the bowl for a taste.

  “You like?” Exaggerating a wink, she tossed flour onto the board and rolling pin.

  The dough tasted perfect. “I like your taste better.” Pushing aside his misgivings, he licked a spot of flour off her cheek.

  Her cheeks reddened. “And I believe you might be as hard.” She held out the large wooden rolling pin. “And as long.”

  Now he was. “Anytime you want to roll my pin…”

  Knowing the cameras recorded every move, he laid the rolling pin down on the board. He grabbed her hand and placed it flat on the round portion of the pin. He put his hand on top of hers. Using a slow, smooth motion, he rolled the pin beneath their hands back and forth and back and forth.

  He could imagine her hands doing that to him. His shaft grew hard and long. Not as big as the rolling pin, but close.

  Her sexy giggle made him want to kiss her very kissable mouth. “Stop, Michael.”

  “Stop?” He couldn’t resist. He bent, molding his lips to hers. Grabbing her butt behind t
he counter so the cameras couldn’t see, he asked, “Do you really want me to stop?”

  She leaned into him rubbing up against him, and whispered, “That depends if these kisses are real or fake for the cameras?”

  “Fake.” His cock twitched. “I’d love to get real right now.”

  “Where can we do that?” She sounded breathless. And willing.

  His manhood roared to life. Grabbing her hand, he spoke loudly for the few staff members and cameras to hear. “We need to discuss the produce order that came in today. I noted some of the fruit was too hard,” He groaned internally and glanced at Isabel’s flushed neckline. “And couple of the melons were overly-large.”

  She covered a snort.

  He tugged her out of the kitchen. The staff pretended to ignore them. He was past the point of caring what they thought. They went past the small kitchen office. They couldn’t go in there because there were cameras. Cameras in the hall. His balls ached. He needed Isabel now with an urgency he couldn’t define. “Parker’s office?”

  “He’s working.” She slapped Michael’s arm.

  “My room?”

  “We don’t have time.” She appeared almost as desperate.

  “So this needs to be a quickie.” He leered, hoping she interpreted the comedy.

  “A quickie, but a goodie.” Wheeling around to walk backward, she reached under his chef’s coat for his belt and started to unhitch the buckle. “This way.”

  His body tingled and streaked with heat. Blood pumped to his private parts. “If you keep undressing me, I’ll follow you anywhere.”

  She led him to the hotel’s service laundry room, where staff washed and dried linens and specialty items. The hotel sent out the sheets and towels to be washed. The cramped room had two washers, two dryers, an ironing surface, and a wall of shelves holding the clean linens. No employees, because they worked during the day.

  His hands grabbed her hips, and his finger traced the curve around to her back end. The throbbing started again. Insistent. Demanding. His lips brushed across her mouth, before plunging his tongue inside. There wasn’t time for coaxing and finesse. Only time for feeling.

  Her hands finished the buckle, unzipped the zipper, and pushed down his slacks. He appreciated her efficiency.

  She moaned when she stroked him. “Nice and ready.”

  “For you, I’m always ready.” And he was.

  It wasn’t the idea of sex that got him hard. Or even her touch. Her hand wrapped around his shaft, sending shivers of pleasure rippling through him. Okay, her touch definitely did something to him.

  Even more it was the thought of her, Isabel, making him ache with longing. It was the idea of being with her making him needy. It was her laughter, and her smile, and the sexy way she maneuvered through the kitchen. All these things he loved about her.

  Loved.

  The word floated through his head until she squeezed his other head, and then the word swam into his heart. His body tightened. Did he love Isabel?

  The way he thought of her constantly, wanted to be with her, and was considering changing his career so he could be based in Castle Ridge pointed to love.

  Love?

  He mulled over the word. Let it sit on his tongue like fine brandy. Enjoyed the feel and the touch and the taste. Swallowed and savored the heat of the word sliding down his throat and into his chest.

  Love.

  “Everything okay?” Her question poked him back into awareness. “Where did you go?”

  “To a place you wouldn’t believe.” He studied her curious expression and wanted to tell her everything, express his newfound emotions, tell her of his love. Except this wasn’t the place and they didn’t have the time. When he confessed his feelings, he wanted it to be special. “I’ll tell you later.”

  Without removing his mouth from hers, he pushed aside her chef’s coat and untucked her blouse. His hands shook as he unzipped her skirt and let it slip to the ground. He yanked off her panties. Lifting her by the waist, he placed her on the dryer and switched on the machine.

  “Michael?” Her body moved with the slight vibration.

  “Relax.” He bent his head. “Enjoy the ride.”

  The ache for her built with each flick of his tongue against her wet and swollen nib. Her body rocked back and forth against his mouth with the movement of the dryer. She was so responsive and so unbelievably sexy. So his.

  To mark his territory, he slowed the strokes of his tongue matching the dryer’s beat. She tasted of honey and he wanted to drink in her sweetness.

  “Oh, Michael.” She bucked against him, wanting more, wanting faster. She’d gone into a spin cycle of her own. She grabbed onto his hair. “Michael. Michael.”

  His name was a song in her voice. He didn’t want to hear her say any other man’s name. Only his.

  Heat radiated off her, causing his own temperature to spike. His cock swelled to bursting point. He used the self-control he possessed to hold himself together.

  “You’re close. So close.” Urging her on, he slipped a finger inside.

  Her muscles clenched around him. He imagined his shaft taking the place of his finger and he shuddered.

  She tightened and her body gave a final tremble. Throwing her head back, she cried out his name. Her face glowed and her mouth curved into the most beatific-satisfied smile. Watching Isabel orgasm satisfied him in many ways, too. He’d never seen anything so beautiful. And he’d done that to her. For her. His chest swelled.

  Her eyes flickered open. “Amazing.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you.” Her coy chuckle had his motor revving like the dryer. “I’m feeling a little selfish.”

  “Not for long.”

  She ogled his enlarged member. “Looks pretty long to me.”

  “Oh, Isabel.” His heart soared and tried to fly out of his ribcage. He ripped open the foil packet from his wallet and slipped it on. “Not.” His fingers bit into her hips and pulled her toward the edge of the vibrating dryer. “For.” He nudged her legs open and poised in front of her opening. “Long.”

  He sank into her warmth, and all he wanted was longer, deeper, more.

  Through the haze of arousal, fear twinged. Fear she wouldn’t want only him, fear he couldn’t make his new business proposition work and be able to stay in Castle Ridge, fear the reality TV show would ruin everything between them.

  And then the sensation of her surrounding him drove everything back but the pleasure. He closed his eyes and moved in tempo with the dryer. In tempo with Isabel.

  He thrust into her driving toward climax. His vision blurred and he couldn’t breathe. He could only move and feel and move and feel and move and… “Isabel!”

  His muscles tightened. His cock twitched. And his world tilted.

  Tilted to a place that had to include Isabel.

  * * *

  Michael observed Isabel’s prone form in bed the next morning. She was even more beautiful when she slept. Her tousled hair spread across the pillow. Her slightly open mouth breathed out little puffs of air. Her eyelashes shadowed her cheeks. He filled his nostrils with her sweet scent.

  After their fast and powerful lovemaking session in the laundry room, they’d straightened their clothes and hair and went back into the kitchen, pretending everything was normal.

  Except nothing had been normal. Nothing could ever be normal again.

  His heart pounded. He loved Isabel. The realization last night had hammered in his chest for the rest of the evening, and when they’d come home and made love in a slow, meaningful seduction, the rightness had only intensified. Still, he hadn’t been able to confess his feelings.

  Doubts about the reality program and how it would affect their relationship and their careers had strangled his words.

  He went into the kitchen and snapped on the coffeemaker. He slouched against the small desk in her kitchen, waiting for the pot to brew. He’d surprise her with coffee in bed before they’d shower, hopefully toget
her, and then dress and head to work. This working together and having a relationship really worked out well. She understood his late-night hours. One of a head chef’s most difficult relationship barriers was being away from their girlfriends and families during the evenings and holidays. One of the reasons he’d dated plenty, but had few relationships.

  Isabel would understand.

  Picking up a chef trade magazine, he tapped it against the other papers scattered around the desk. His gaze caught on Isabel’s name at the top of a nice piece of paper and for a second he imagined her first name with his last. The paper blurred and his pulse picked up its pace. He was actually thinking about marriage.

  Never before had the idea of marriage entered his head. Part of his appeal to his female fans was the fact he was single. With Isabel, he not only thought about it, he wanted to make it work. He didn’t care about his image. He didn’t really care about going back to L.A.

  The thought should’ve shocked, should’ve sent a seismic warning through his system. It didn’t. He’d enjoyed his time in Castle Ridge, missed the small-town atmosphere where people cared about each other, missed his sister and niece. And if he left, he’d miss Isabel.

  No, he wouldn’t miss her. He wouldn’t leave without her. They’d find a way to be together.

  He picked up the paper with her name and noted her address and career goal.

  The goal hit him similar to knocking his head on the pans hanging from above the counter. The clanging rang in his brain.

  A resume.

  He noted the current dates of employment. This wasn’t an old resume lying around. This was newly-updated.

  His gaze zoomed on the business card clipped to a file folder. A headhunter.

  He picked up the card and tapped it against the wood desk. Isabel was seriously job hunting.

  Now.

  He crumpled the business card in his hands. He’d agreed to flirt with her in front of cameras so the restaurant would do well, so she’d have the head chef job when his contract ended. He’d bargained to get her the position when he left.

  And this is how she thanked him?