by Chant, Zoe
Something had happened then, when their hands had touched, some kind of strange magnetic connection, or like Esme had been struck by lightning. She’d never felt anything like that before. Maybe it was just overstimulation from this entire day?
She didn’t know, and she didn’t have time to worry about it right now. The kitchen needed to be cleaned, and the other sous chefs were glaring at her. “Think you’re so special?” Janice grumbled. “We did just as much work as you did, but do you see any hot guys giving us any credit?”
Esme immediately felt terrible. “Of course you deserve credit, too. I never could have done any of this without you.” The second the words were out, she wished she could take them back.
The other sous chefs all straightened up and nodded. “I knew she thought she was the star,” Suzanne muttered. The others agreed. The smiles they flashed at her were dangerous.
“That wasn’t what I meant!” Esme protested.
“Yeah, right, prima donna,” Suzanne said, advancing. “We’ll show you where you really belong.”
Esme took a step backward, but before she could respond, the kitchen doors flew open.
“I don’t know who you think you are,” the drop-dead gorgeous woman who’d been sitting by Zachary snapped, “but you need to go back to your little kitchen.”
“What—?”
“You think I didn’t see how you were trying to seduce Zachary with your food and your little swaying hips trick? You think I was born yesterday?” The woman pushed her face into Esme’s, and she could smell chocolate mixed with wine on the woman’s breath. “Well, I wasn’t, and you’d better back off.”
“I . . .” Esme fought for the words to set this right, though her head was spinning as if she’d been the one who’d enjoyed the three-hundred-dollar bottle of merlot.
But it didn’t matter. The woman had already stormed back out of the kitchen, leaving Esme alone with the circle of smirking faces. It was all the stuff they’d wanted to say, and now they didn’t have to.
She felt like crying, except none of this made any sense. So she did the one thing she could and started cleaning up in silence.
To their credit, the other sous chefs did stay to help. She’d fully expected them to just leave. After all, what could she have done about it?
Don’t go anywhere. What had he—Zachary—even meant? And did it matter? He was probably just drunk, too.
Esme sadly helped the dishwashers rinse off the plates coming in from the dining room and wished she’d never stuck her head out of the kitchen to begin with. Then Zachary wouldn’t have seen her, and this still would have been the happiest night of her life, instead of the weirdest.
* * *
It was two a.m., and Zachary had finally managed to get everyone out the door and into cars and taxis to go home. He had begun to think they’d be there all night. But there was no way he was going home, not until he’d talked to Esme. His bear agreed; they’d wait until sunrise if they had to.
Mallory in particular had cracked the brightest, most brittle smiles. She’d nursed her glass of champagne carefully while laughing the loudest, talking the most. But she’d never really taken her eyes off Zachary.
Damn! He knew she was up to something. Had she . . . figured out what he was?
Impossible. No one could know.
Besides, he’d seen her get into her car. All the other kitchen staff had left, too. Now it was time to find Esme.
Breathless, his bear urging him on, he walked back into the kitchen—just in time to find Esme and the owner of the restaurant facing off. “I am extremely disappointed in you, Esme,” Mr. Lambert said. “I heard from one of tonight’s party that you were making untoward advances to the guest of honor. This is, to put it simply, not at all what I expected from you when I offered you this opportunity. You actually had her in tears! In tears. Do you know how that makes my restaurant look?”
Immediately Zachary grew furious. The desire to shield Esme—what a beautiful name—swelled up in him. How dare one of his company report lies about her like this? Once he found out who it was, he’d make sure that person paid hugely.
Esme was backed up against a counter. Zachary couldn’t help but notice she’d changed out of her uniform into a beautiful shift dress the same red as her lipstick. The way it clung to her ample curves—and he’d been right; her ass was glorious, so round and full, so sexy he wanted to bite it—was like a siren call to his cock, and he bit his lip to keep from making any noises. “I . . .,” she trailed off. “I don’t know what you want me to say, Mr. Lambert. All I know is, I didn’t do anything but make the best food I could, just like you asked me to.”
“And you’re going to lie about it, too?” Mr. Lambert thundered, his face turning purple. “I was ready to help you get into culinary school, and this is how you repay me?”
Save our mate, his bear demanded, rearing back on his hind legs.
“I—I—” Esme looked like she was about to cry, and Zachary snapped out of his trance. He felt his bear stirring, all his protective wrath filling Zachary, hot and blazing.
“You’re fired,” Mr. Lambert announced. “Pack whatever you have here and don’t come back.”
That was it. Zachary stormed forward. “Hey, listen, jerk, I’m that guest of honor you just mentioned, and I can tell you Esme did no such thing. She made the best food I’ve ever had in my life, and that was it. I’m the one who asked her to come out of the kitchen so I could pay my compliments. She did absolutely nothing wrong.”
“You . . . you did?” Mr. Lambert stammered, his expression turning foolish. He mopped his sweating forehead with the handkerchief he produced from his pocket. “But your guest said—”
“I don’t care what Mallory or anyone else said,” Zachary roared. In that moment, his bear and he were one. “All I know is, this chef makes food so delicious, the best restaurants in Paris can’t compare, and you’re firing her? Without even giving her a chance to defend herself? You have no idea what you’re losing, buddy.”
He offered Esme his arm, and with her dark, delicious eyes full of gratitude and shock, she took it.
“You can bet you’re never getting my business again,” Zachary added, “and my friends will be hearing about this, too.”
He whirled on his heel, taking Esme with him, and leaving Mr. Lambert sputtering behind them. Esme quickly reached out and grabbed her purse off a hook, and then they were out of the kitchen. Zachary guided her to the back door of the kitchen and through it.
Then they stood in the starlight together, and Zachary stopped to drink her in, her lush, round body with its abundance of curves just begging him to touch, her dark curls slipping out of their bun, her beautiful light brown skin, her small, lovely hands. How easily they’d disappear into his much larger ones . . .
A cool breeze washed over them, and Esme’s nipples hardened through the soft material of her dress. It made her breasts even more beautiful, and Zachary’s cock was slammed with another flood of lust. “I don’t know about you, but I’m still hungry,” he said, careful not to overwhelm her by letting his desire show. “How do you feel about all-night diners?”
* * *
Esme couldn’t stop staring at this strikingly good-looking man, this billionaire—everyone knew who Zachary Cunningham was! He was something of a local celebrity due to all the free medications he sent to poor countries—who had somehow swooped in to save her from Mr. Lambert. She still felt like crying. Her dream, flushed down the toilet by a woman she didn’t even know. What threat did that woman think Esme presented to her? She was just a stand-in sous chef!
And Mr. Lambert had believed her. He’d believed the lies that woman had told. He’d fired Esme for them!
She trembled, and Zachary must have noticed, because he immediately pulled off his dinner jacket and slung it around her shoulders. “I’ll turn on the heat in my car,” he promised, leading her toward one of the only two cars left in the parking lot: Mr. Lambert’s Mercedes and a Humm
er. A look of concern came over his face. “But you haven’t told me yet if you want to come with me. I won’t take you anywhere you don’t want to go.”
Esme had to shake her head to believe this was real, that Zachary Cunningham would not only have saved her from the wrath of her boss but also wanted to take her somewhere to feed her. She’d been so exhausted by the whole night, but at the touch of his skin on hers, she’d woken right back up.
He was so gorgeous, too, she realized, with his blond hair, blue eyes, and incredibly large, muscular frame. A girl could feel safe around a guy like that, adored, protected. She could so easily fit into his arms. . . . Naughty thoughts of his arms and hands on other parts of her made her blush.
He’d never think of her like that. Of course not. She was just boring old plump Esmeralda, who was nowhere near glamorous enough to wear a name like that. Even her ex didn’t want her anymore.
“Sure,” she said at last, the words feeling surreal as they left her mouth. “I always wanted to ride in a Hummer.”
“A big car for a big guy,” he joked, helping her into the passenger seat before going around to the other side and climbing in. It was true, she realized. He was so burly that only a Hummer would do. So big, so powerful . . . Another naughty thought came to her. If he was that big, what about his cock?
The thought made her mouth water and her pussy grow moist with longing. She’d never been with a man that big. What would that be like? Would he fill her so completely, so deliciously, that she would melt on the spot?
Esme shivered and pushed down the smile that wanted to break out over her face. As if he would ever think of her like that. But she would sure think of him!
They drove in silence for a few minutes, when Esme finally found the courage to ask. “Why did you help me back there?” She ducked her head and stared at her hands. The nails were short, to keep from getting in the way while she chopped and sliced. She’d accidentally cut them enough times to know having long nails wasn’t worth the bother. “I mean, it was really nice, but you didn’t have to. I mean, you know that.”
She shut up before she could keep babbling her way into utter humiliation.
Zachary chuckled. “You’re right, I didn’t. But your boss was being a jackass. And I don’t know why Mallory lied about you, unless she was jealous.”
Esme’s eyes went totally wide at this. “Jealous? You mean, that really pretty woman who came into the kitchen?” And yelled at me to back off from you?
“Yeah, that’s her,” Zachary said, scowling at the road. “She was seriously out of line.”
“But—but why would she be jealous?” This made absolutely no sense to Esme.
Zachary turned his head long enough to glance at her. “Are you kidding?” he asked. “Look at you! You’re stunning, just stunning. And you can cook, too. I have a feeling Mallory has never even boiled a pot of water in her life.”
Esme’s head was spinning. Stunning? Her? No one had said that about her in years, not since before she’d met her ex.
“Red is the perfect color for you,” Zachary went on, his voice low—and totally sexy. Esme felt the thrill from his voice running all over her body like a caress. Could this gorgeous man, this billionaire, possibly think she was hot? She had to be dreaming. “You look like an angel in that dress.”
Well, she wasn’t about to wake herself up if so! And she did know her way around a kitchen . . .
She’d been so distracted by thoughts of him taking her into his arms that she hadn’t even paid attention to where they were going. Only as the car stopped at a gate outside a huge mansion did her stomach do a backflip. Zachary typed a code on the keypad, and once the gate opened, drove them around the back of the mansion.
“I . . . thought we were going to a diner?” Esme said, confused. She’d never been anywhere near anything like this. How was she supposed to behave?
Zachary put the car in park and then hurried around to her side to help her out. She had to admit, she liked his gallant behavior. A real gentleman. He flashed her a smile that went all the way to his blue eyes as he offered her his hand. “We are. My kind of diner.”
Charmed and curious, Esme let him help her out. The same electric connection happened again, sending delicious jolts of pleasure up her arms and along her spine. She shivered. This man was so hot!
There was no way Esme could miss the fact that Zachary didn’t release her hand once they were on the ground. Instead, he guided her along the moonlit path to a wide-open meadow. “Welcome to my backyard,” he said, his smile both proud and shy.
His backyard. This man owned a mansion, and she was welcome in its immense backyard. Esme felt like she was in a fairy tale.
Someone had already set up a picnic for them: a blanket, little plates of toast and jam and cheese and chocolate and berries, and a teapot and two cups. Zachary helped her down onto the blanket, and he served her a little of everything, his big hands careful and deft in their movements.
Esme realized how hungry she was—she hadn’t eaten all night, only served others—and devoured the treats on her plate. But part of her was busy consuming the sight of Zachary, who couldn’t take his gaze off her. “I can’t believe I found you,” Zachary said, putting down his own plate and taking her hand again.
Wow, this man did want her. Esme relaxed into the knowledge that this wasn’t just a fantasy she was dreaming up during a night of sorrow and isolation. It was really, truly happening. She sipped her tea and leaned into Zachary’s solid, warm side. He felt so good that her nipples tightened, and warmth pooled in her belly. She couldn’t stop the whirlwind of sexy thoughts flowing through her mind: Zachary and her lying together in the grass, Zachary running his lips over her body, Zachary’s strong hands learning every inch of her soft skin.
Zachary’s enormous cock entering her soft, wet, tight folds . . .
It made no sense, any of this, but she somehow knew it was okay to feel this way about him. Because his hand on her thigh, his eyes on hers, all suggested he didn’t want to be anywhere else or with anyone else, either.
He offered her another strawberry, slipping it past her lips. Esme nearly moaned. But then she fed him one, and she happened to glance down and see a bulge straining between his legs. She couldn’t restrain the grin that burst up then. He wasn’t just okay with having her there, but he wanted her, too!
“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice so low that it set her quivering. “So beautiful, so talented.” He pointed up at the sky. “Have you ever wished upon a star?”
“Of course,” Esme said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Hasn’t everyone?”
“Tell me what you wished for,” Zachary said, leaning forward. His blue eyes were dark with desire, the same desire making her slippery.
Esme wondered if she should say it. She’d never told anyone the truth before. But right now, under the clear, dark sky filled with stars like specks of dust, she couldn’t believe there was anything to fear. “I’ve . . . I’ve always wanted to be seen,” she admitted.
Zachary smiled. “I see you, Esme,” he murmured. “I see you, and you’re so beautiful.”
As he took her hand again, linking their fingers together, she knew he did.
* * *
“What about you?” Esme asked. “What have you wished for?”
Zachary sucked in his breath. For you, of course, he wanted to say. But what he wished even more was that he could show her his bear, that he could tell her about all the things his bear and he had done together. Maybe his bear wasn’t so bad, after all. If nothing else, he had led Zachary to Esme.
But the words refused to pass his lips. Would she run away if he did?
“You know I love food,” he began. Esme nodded, her head tilted to the side as she listened. God, was she gorgeous. And it wasn’t even just her round, soft body or heavy breasts, though they certainly didn’t hurt, or even her bright smile. No, it was the spirit behind her dark, curious eyes. His bear wanted to know that spi
rit in every way he could.
His bear growled at him. Don’t you dare let this one get away.
I have no plans to, Zachary told his bear. Unless she decides she doesn’t want to be here.
His heart squeezed at the idea, and his whole body went cold. Now that he’d found his mate, how could he ever let her go?
“Nah, never mind me,” he blurted out. “Tell me more about being seen.”
Esme looked disappointed, but she didn’t argue. “I’ve never told anyone this before, but I feel like . . .” She dropped her head, and Zachary wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her close enough to take away the pain. He made himself wait.
Sure enough, she raised her head again. “Ever since I gained weight, which I couldn’t help, I feel like people have stopped seeing me. Well, except to say I needed to quit stuffing my face. Even my ex. That’s why he dumped me.” She laughed self-consciously. “Stupid, huh?”
Within Zachary, his bear lunged to his hind legs and bared his fangs. How dare anyone treat this amazing woman like that? He could sense how deeply she’d been hurt, and he wanted to tear apart the people who’d done it, especially her ex. Destroy them, demanded his bear. That’s what these claws are for.
On Zachary’s right hand, the claws began to burst through his fingers.
It took all his effort to push them back down before Esme noticed. He wasn’t about to scare her away. “I think,” he said, and cleared his throat, “I think everyone who can’t see you for who you are, anyone who thinks you need to change to please them, is a damned fool.”
When she looked up at him, her face was full of pain, and her eyes glittered. He wanted nothing more than to wipe away those tears, to tell her he would see her clearly for the rest of their lives, but he swallowed the words. Instead, he offered her his hand.