And He Cooks Too

by Barbara Barrett

  Cornered animals were often more dangerous than those ready to pounce. From the slump of Leonie’s shoulders, it was clear she was no longer denying that she had been bested. He waited for her next move. Leonie shook her shoulders and straightened her spine. Her hands came down to her sides as she pivoted to face the three of them, her face overly bright. “Then let’s go for it.”

  Reese and Nick sat forward in concert.

  A slight chill raced up Nick’s arm, like a sudden gust of wind before a violent storm. It had taken less convincing for Leonie to change course than he’d anticipated. She was up to something.

  “Uh, great,” Jasper returned hesitantly, apparently caught off guard as well.

  Leonie retraced her steps to her chair. “I’ll convert the next script to talking points. The revised non-script will be waiting for you tomorrow. It’s Tuesday. Can we do this in the three days left this week?”

  She rose swiftly, slung her leather bag over her shoulder. Staring directly at Reese, she said, “Since you all claim that yesterday’s show was not a fluke, I expect great things.” That said, she was gone. Not even a door slam, only a trail of the heady fragrance of her own brand of perfume still permeating the air.

  Jasper reacted first, jumping up and hustling over to listen at the door, apparently to reassure himself she’d actually left and wasn’t eavesdropping on the other side. Satisfied, he announced, “She’s gone. Really gone. Unless she sneaks back.”

  Nick rubbed his jaw. “I don’t think so.”

  Reese gave them both a quizzical look. “What happened to the fireworks? One minute she was fighting this—ever so politely, but with steely determination—and the next, she was, for all intents and purposes, capitulating.”

  “My aunt doesn’t capitulate, Reese. Unless it works in her favor.”

  Jasper thrust a hip on the table and stared down at Nick. “You don’t think the sponsor’s endorsements convinced her, do you?”

  Reese shook her head. “More like they stopped her in her tracks…for now. But she’s up to something. I bet she already knows how she’s going to fight this.”

  Nick nodded. “You catch on fast, Chef.”

  “Maybe so, but now I’m waiting for the other stiletto to fall. How do we defend ourselves against the unknown?”

  When no one answered, Nick shrugged and said, “How about returning me to my dressing room, Reese? I need time to think.”

  Reese glanced at Jasper, who also shrugged, seemingly unnerved by his temporary victory from the look of the wrinkles pulling at the bridge of his nose. Reese rose and began to steer Nick’s wheelchair to the door.

  Once in Nick’s dressing room, he said, “This could get rough. My aunt fights dirty. A clean dirty—she doesn’t like to soil her own hands—but dirty just the same.”

  “That’s not news.”

  He grabbed her hands and drew her around to face him. “No, but—”

  “But now that we’ve—”

  “Yeah.”

  “We could end it. Is that what you want?”

  He released her hands, banging his own on the wheelchair. Damn! They had to play this right. The first order of business was to convince Leonie that Reese should continue to co-host, not get more involved with each other.

  Reese slid her gaze away from him. “You apparently don’t want to answer.”

  “You’re doing that upfront thing again. Having to know exactly what’s what every second. Like you’re some kind of control freak.”

  She shot him an irate look. “Control freak! I don’t like things sugar-coated, that’s all. I want to know how I stand.”

  “Can’t we just enjoy each other for now and not start making plans?” The words sprung from his mouth before he thought them through.

  “That sounds a lot like the old ‘let’s just keep things light’ routine to me.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like a cliché.”

  His apology, pathetic as it was, seemed to calm her. She touched his cheek. “I’m okay with light. In fact, getting involved with you is probably the last thing I need.”

  What was wrong with getting involved with him? Despite his better judgment, he couldn’t resist following up. “What do you mean?”

  Removing her hand from his cheek, she said, “My career. It’s in a state of flux at the moment, now that I’m co-hosting with you. I don’t want to complicate it further.”

  He lifted a brow. “I’m a complication?”

  “That was a comment, not a compliment.”

  “Oh.” That cut. “I guess, I, uh, could say the same for you.” Except she already had become a distraction, at least as far as his escape plans were concerned. Of course, in this wheelchair and the crutches to come, escape was somewhat a moot point.

  “So what do we do about this? Us?”

  There she had him. Despite his second thoughts earlier, the minute he’d seen her this morning he knew he didn’t want this to go away. The sex had been great, but there was more to this thing between them than another notch on his bedpost. And that just couldn’t be. Not with his escape imminent.

  “Care to let me in on your thoughts?” she probed, settling down on the day bed next to his wheelchair.

  He reached for her hand, ran his other hand over it, enjoying its smoothness. He offered a sardonic smile. “You’re right. Too many things are happening at once. You and me. You co-hosting the show. My bum ankle. And having to put up with this damned chair.”

  She smiled wryly. “So you’re saying, let’s back off.” She checked his eyes. “Right?”

  He considered but finally nodded.

  “That I get.”

  “You do?’

  “Nick, I just witnessed—and participated in—your aunt’s little melodrama. She did her best to dismiss me, both from the meeting and my impact on yesterday’s episode. If Jasper hadn’t done an end run on her, one that he, maybe all of us, will live to regret, she would never have agreed to this new format. So for the time being, our primary goal should be to make our co-hosting work.”

  Did he detect a note of regret in her voice, or was he kidding himself? And why did he care? He had to keep reminding himself that his main goal was to leave the show. As soon as he could get on his feet again. If Reese did well as co-host, that day wasn’t far off. For one night, he’d let himself forget all that and simply enjoyed this fascinating woman, but now he had to back away. She had been the one to suggest a retreat. So why did his gut ache so? “You’re okay with putting things between us on hold?”

  “Okay, no. But that seems to make the most sense.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Can’t say I won’t have a relapse now and then, but it’s a deal.”

  She tugged back, gave him a stiff smile. “Deal.”

  Neither spoke nor looked at the other.

  She broke the silence. “I’ve got to go. I’ll find your driver.”

  He watched her nearly run from the room. Seeing her go made him cringe. This wasn’t the way things should have happened. He should have gotten the girl. The girl should have gotten the show. And he should have gotten his freedom.

  He could have all that. All he had to do was leave. To do that, he had to stand up to Leonie and tell her he was leaving. And then follow through. Not look back.

  But he couldn’t. Not yet. If he could help her take the show network, then he would have paid off his debt to her for being his surrogate mother. Dave would have him believe he’d long ago settled that bill. But these last few years since Gordon Davenport, bless his cheating heart, called off his marriage to Leonie, the woman had become desperately dependent on him.

  Reese had come along at just the right time for the show. If she continued to shine as co-host, she could take over. If he could just get his aunt to like Reese.

  If.

  Later that afternoon, he took a shot at getting the ladies together.

  “I’m in seclusion, Nick. It’s going to take me all day to undo all the work
I put into this week’s script,” Leonie complained.

  He smiled contritely, as if his aunt could see him through his cell phone. “Thought you could use a break.”

  “Break? Why would I want to do that when there’s so much to be done?”

  “Your brain probably needs a rest. I thought you might like to do that over a late lunch/early dinner. My treat.”

  She sniffed. “The last time you treated me to a meal, you announced your desired departure. I’d just as soon avoid that again.”

  “I won’t mention leaving the show. So, what do you say?”

  “I suppose I could be persuaded.”

  “How about that place near Midtown. Café Russo?”

  “Midtown? How about something nearer my apartment?”

  “They’re old news. You’ve eaten at most of them at one time or another.”

  “What do you really want, Nick?”

  Did you think she wouldn’t see through this? “It’s time to mend fences with my co-host. The two of you got off to a rocky start, but she’s doing us a real favor now.” He held his breath, waiting for her response.

  It didn’t take long. “Maybe some other time. I need to invest every minute of my time today in redoing this non-script.”

  “No, wait….” No point. The ominous click in his ear told him he’d struck out.

  He stared at his cell, wondering what else he could have said to entice the woman out of her web. Maybe if he told her Reese was related to one of the network execs?

  Probably wasn’t such a hot idea anyhow. Even if he’d talked Leonie into the outing, how would he have been able to get Reese to join them?

  Too late, he realized he should set it up in his own apartment, invited them both without telling either the other would be joining them.

  Then he wouldn’t have had to mess with the production of getting himself about in that damned apparatus parked next to his bed.

  Now what was he going to come up with?

  Chapter Sixteen

  Nick hunched in his wheelchair feeling sorry for himself. This sprained ankle was a bore. Yeah, it had gotten Reese in front of the camera, but it was a hell of a way to get around. And it hurt. Actually, at the moment, since he was overdue for a pain pill, it throbbed incessantly. And itched. All he wanted to do was scratch the area raw.

  So he’d struck out with Leonie. Maybe he could do better with Reese. Maybe he just wanted to see her again, even though only hours ago they’d decided to cool it for a while. He punched in Reese’s number on his phone. “I need a nurse,” he announced when she picked up.

  “Did you hurt yourself again?”

  “Wasn’t once enough? With Jasper and Dave here the first few days after my accident, I didn’t realize how much assistance I’d need once they were gone. And how long the pain would last.”

  “What about your aunt?”

  “She was here too.” At times. Off and on. Whenever she didn’t get too bored or too overcome seeing him incapacitated. “But she’s holed up in her apartment revising scripts. I really do need help. This thing hurts like the devil.”

  “Last time I checked, my resume said chef, not nurse.”

  “Please. You won’t have to give me any shots or take my temp.” He tried to sound as pathetic as possible. That wasn’t difficult, because he felt pathetic.

  She didn’t respond at first. “Aren’t you forgetting our agreement? Just a few hours ago, we decided to stay away from each other off the set.”

  “Oh, that.”

  No response.

  “That didn’t apply to missions of mercy.”

  A chuckle. Good sign. “No, I guess not.” Temporary silence. “Okay. Give me an hour.”

  Saluting when she arrived, she said, “Nurse Nellie reporting for duty.”

  “It’s about time. The patient is ready to go out of his mind.” He was acting like an ass, but he couldn’t help it. He felt like hell.

  Balancing a pastry box in one hand, she used the other to close the door and then wheel him through the dark labyrinth of his entryway to his living room. “From the phone call I received, I’d say the patient’s mind has already left the premises.”

  “Yeah, well, try spraining your wrist and ankle sometime and see how sane you remain.”

  She pulled up to his recliner and helped him settle there. “The patient seems to be a bit sensitive too.”

  “Guys aren’t supposed to show they’re in pain, but hell, this ankle still hurts. It’s not getting better.”

  “Poor thing. How about the wrist.”

  “It’s okay, until I try to hold something.”

  God, it was good to see her, even though he couldn’t do anything about it. She’d changed to a light blue jogging suit since he’d seen her a few hours ago. It accentuated her long, shapely legs as she settled onto the davenport. Legs that just yesterday had vined around him. Heat gathered in his gut just remembering. Why had he done this to himself? He could no more stay away from her than he could prepare his own meal.

  She gave him an assessing look. “Have you called your doctor? Maybe you need to increase your meds. Or change them.”

  He so rarely needed a doctor that the idea hadn’t occurred to him. “Good thought.” He pulled out his cell.

  “Have you eaten today?”

  “Uh, no. What’s in that box?”

  “That’s for later. A treat. If you behave yourself.”

  “Behave? I’m not exactly able to chase you around that sofa.” More the pity.

  She gave him a sly smile. “Not worried about that. We already agreed that’s off limits. What I’m getting at is how you’re taking care of yourself.”

  “How am I supposed to do that when this ankle is driving me crazy?”

  She glanced around. “Don’t you have someone taking care of you, at least a home health care person dropping by to check on you?”

  “Uh, no. Hence my call.” And the fact that, God help him, he had to see her again.

  “You mean you’ve been wheeling yourself around this place, fixing your own meals, putting yourself to bed?”

  “Can’t you tell from the mess? Clothes strewn around every room. The trash container in the kitchen overflowing with empty cartons of food.”

  “No housekeeper?”

  “Once a week. Tomorrow.”

  “You can survive the clutter until then. But you really need someone to stop by and check out your physical condition periodically.” She pulled out her own cell. “I’m arranging for a home health aide to come for two hours a day for the next week. Hopefully, you’ll be on your crutches by then.”

  She made the call before he had a chance to beg off. Although he wouldn’t have. He should’ve thought of getting someone to come in himself.

  Within a half hour, the pharmacy delivered the new prescription, which Reese insisted he take immediately. In three hours, a home health aide would arrive. As the pain began to recede, Nick’s spirits improved markedly. The horny thoughts that had badgered his brain since her arrival now seized the upper hand over pain and discomfort. And other parts of his body were coming alive again too.

  “You’re a miracle worker, lady. I can’t tell you how much better I’m feeling already.”

  She rose. “Good! Then I’ll be on my way.”

  He caught her hand. “Don’t go. Stay.”

  She started to pull away, but he grabbed her other hand. He forgot his ankle and started to haul her back, rising out of the recliner with the force of her resistance. Too late, he remembered he shouldn’t put any weight on his foot. His hesitation cost him his balance, which sent him hurtling backward.

  “Uh-oh!”

  Reese tried to pull him toward her, but lost her balance as well, tumbling along with him. They wound up sprawled over the recliner, Nick on the bottom, Reese on top.

  She was right there in his arms, so close, so intimate, her body the nicest, warmest blanket he could think of. What was a guy supposed to do other than give in to the moment?


  Her eyes like Bambi’s, she protested, “Nick, we can’t.”

  He covered her lips with his, cutting off the rest of her statement. She returned the kiss fervently, allowing his tongue to enter and twine with her own. Her pelvis strained against his, all the invitation that part of his body needed to spring into action.

  He slipped his good hand inside her jacket, barely stopping long enough to touch the petal-soft smoothness of her back before unclasping her brassiere.

  Coming up for air, she gasped, “We de…cided not…to do this.” Then she took over the kissing, hitting the top left corner of his lips first, then nibbling the bottom lip, next a cheek, then just below his ear.

  He tried to relax, let her do the work, enjoy the sensation of those feathery lips becoming increasingly more demanding. But her growing frenzy couldn’t be ignored. He felt compelled to reciprocate, give in to temptation. This was a bad idea, the tiny part of his brain that was still rational told him, just like Reese had tried to point out. But damn! Who could resist this? He wanted her. Not just any desirable female. He wanted Reese. Pain be damned.

  His hand skimmed around her side to light on a breast, still partially encased in the bra. He gently drew it into his palm. How could mere flesh covering tissue give a man so much pleasure just to grasp and squeeze and…ah, hell. He needed…had to have…more.

  All that existed was Reese, himself and the recliner. A feverish compulsion to get her naked—fast—seized him. Not just to see, but to feel, clutch, rub, and do almost everything in his power to turn her inside out to pleasure her. And have her.

  The challenge of stripping her from beneath with only one functioning hand and a bum ankle only fueled his smoldering passion. “Not my usual approach,” he breathed into her ebony hair as he struggled without much success to pull down her jogging pants.

  She wiggled her hips to assist his efforts.

  The rocking motion of her body undulating over his hurtled shock waves through him. Her jogging pants and lace thong slithered down the curve of her buttocks. He stopped to knead the firm, rounded flesh. God, she felt good. He could linger here forever, if it weren’t the knowledge that there was so much more treasure awaiting him.