by Donna Hill
Oh, boy, so bowls licked and they were back to that. Essie gave him a cool smile. “Sure, Mr. Montgomery. I’ll see you at eight.”
The smile she got in return before he walked off could have frozen the water they sailed on, but she ignored it and continued her work. She wouldn’t let him get to her. No way was he ruining her mood or her food.
Essie finished her work, filled her pastries, and then handed Cooper the spoon.
He laughed at that. “Oh, E, you are a tough one.”
“Of course I’m not. You said it yourself. I’m as sweet as my chocolate, and don’t let anybody tell you different.”
Chapter Nine
The petite dining salon might as well have been called the grand salon for all its opulence. The wood of the table was polished to a high shine as was the modern glass chandelier above with its golden accents. Not to mention the china was also gold edged and gleaming. Quincy had done a beautiful job with the settings. Maybe a little too beautiful, Essie thought as she caught the reflections of the candlelight in the large windows, which offered a beautiful view of the glistening moonlight bouncing off the dark sea.
Crap, this is looking a little too much like a date! It had Essie feeling uneasy. First, about how her meal would be received, which was ridiculous because she was always confident in her food. But after seeing this setup, she was really nervous over the fact she’d be sitting and sharing a meal with Ross.
Alone.
For the first time.
Butterflies started to flutter, threatening to swirl in an uncomfortably familiar way in her belly. This was silly; she had to get it together. It wasn’t a “date” date; it was Essie and a client sharing a meal.
That was it. She’d consider it an assignment.
But as she was laying out her dishes in the center of the table, and removing her chef’s smock to reveal the simple black cotton dress underneath, Ross walked in, looking like 110 percent of movable sex and money in his slacks, high-shined shoes, and expensive dress shirt. The butterflies went wild.
Essie brushed at her bangs and tugged on her casual dress, which now felt like an old painter’s smock. “Sorry, I didn’t have anything particularly dressy to wear. I really only came with more casual work clothes and these easy dresses.” Oh, God, why am I explaining myself to this man? Shut up, Essie.
Ross smiled as he walked over to her. His closeness and clean freshly showered scent, with a hint of some expensive undertone, sent her senses into overdrive as he pulled out the chair for her. The urge to lean over and lick his neck was overwhelming.
“You look absolutely perfect.”
Oh, hell, if that wasn’t the worst thing he could have said. The butterflies went into a tailspin as her hormones followed behind.
In that moment Essie longed to be in the crew dining area, enjoying a casual laugh-it-up dinner with them. The safe kind, like she’d had with the band. Nothing felt casual or safe about tonight. With her out of her chef’s smock, and him looking at her like he saw entirely too much, this dinner had her up front and out of the kitchen—very much on display as Essie. Just as Essie. She didn’t like it one bit.
Thankfully, Quincy came in with the wine. “Sir, tonight we have a Pinot Noir, and I believe it will complement your meal beautifully.”
Ross gave Quincy a nod as he continued his intense scrutiny of Essie. “And what is the meal for the evening?”
Essie let out a breath, which she realized she’d been holding way too long. Finally they were in her wheelhouse and she could be herself. Essie put on her best serene smile. “Well, we’re starting with a pear, arugula, and warm goat-cheese salad. Then for the main dish we have sea scallops with light lemon reduction and spinach. And for dessert you’ll be happy to know I’ve made your own mini chocolate mousse.” When she spoke the word “mousse,” she gave him a wink and was rewarded with a smile that was as sweet as a kid’s at Christmas.
“It all looks wonderful. Can we start with the dessert?”
Essie laughed. “Oh, my goodness. I think I had it right. Deep down you are five years old.”
She noticed Quincy smirk as he finished his pour and discreetly left the room.
Ross gave her that quirky brow of his. “You know you are going to ruin my reputation with my crew.”
Essie reached over and began to plate the food for him. “Somehow I doubt that. No matter how much I tease, you’ll find a way to wash away any bit of playfulness.”
Ross took the plate and looked up at her. “Are you trying to imply that I’m no fun?”
Essie finished plating her own meal, sat down, and looked across at Ross. “I’m just saying that I call things as I see them, which I explained to you earlier, and so far all I’m seeing you do is work and be slightly scolding to your crew.”
“And all I see you doing is being highly judgmental toward me. So by your logic, I can surmise that your whole world revolves around cooking and judging people.” Ross took a bite of the salad and closed his eyes to let the dressing’s flavors flood his senses. He gave her a smile. “One of which you’re very good at”—but then he shrugged his shoulders—“the other, not so much.”
Essie frowned and began to eat her meal in silence. What does he know? Though he does have right the part about me cooking well. The man had excellent taste when it came to food and chefs. But, hey, she was a pretty good judge of people. Essie paused in her thinking as Cam came to mind, and the waste of time and space. Roger before him. It’s just she wasn’t the best judge of boyfriends. So what if every time she thought she found Mr. Right, give or take a few months or few weeks, they always turned out to be Mr. Wrong. Oh, well, hell! Maybe Ross was right and she was too quick to judge, and judged in the wrong direction.
Which was why she was over trusting her “yes”; from now on, caution was the way to go.
Essie stared at Ross. He looked every bit like a bite of sweet, sexy chocolate heaven as he ate his meal. Maybe giving up her “yes” was hasty. But there was no way she was going all in and giving up her heart for a man, when all it would take was a little taste to satisfy her need.
Essie smiled to herself as she took a sip of her wine.
“You look quite content there. It’s like you’ve had a full-on internal powwow without me. I’m starting to feel slighted. Penny for your thoughts?”
Essie stared at him for a few beats and then looked around the opulent dining room. It was lovely, but void of any personal touches. So very different from the way she lived. Thoughts of home and her mom came to her mind, and she wondered what her mother must be doing right now. Probably pulling out their old artificial Christmas tree. But would she really want to do it alone? Sadness swept through Essie in a sudden wave. “You know you can afford to pay way more than a penny for my thoughts.”
Ross’s lips quirked up. It was like a switch went off with that little quirk, the way her nipples hardened and the shiver sizzled down her spine.
“You’re right I can pay more, but how about you share anyway. You were far away for a moment there.”
She looked at him and took another sip of wine. “I was thinking about my mother for a moment and what she must be doing right now.”
“And what might that be?” he asked, seeming genuinely interested.
Essie briefly considered the time. “I was thinking tonight she’d be putting up the Christmas tree, but I’m wondering if she would have wanted to do it without me. I should have made time to do it with her before I left. It’s our favorite thing.” Essie smiled, wanting to lighten the mood. “If she’s not into tree trimming, I’m guessing, given the time, she’s watching her favorite show on TV, with her feet up, having something warm to eat. Probably a leftover stew of some sort from Sunday. My mother always likes to make large pots so she doesn’t have to cook during the week, since she still works full-time at the post office.”
“And what does your father do?” Ross asked.
Essie’s shoulders tensed as the usual ache settled in her che
st. “He drove, boy did he drive.” As she heard her voice start to fade off, Essie forced herself to snap back. “He passed away two years ago,” she said quickly, and then tried to cover it with a smile she hoped was bright enough. “But my mom is up for retirement soon, and I’m looking forward to taking her away on a long-awaited and much-deserved vacation one of these Christmases.”
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up a subject that would cause you pain.” His voice was low and deep, full of so much sincerity that it made her pause and swallow down a lump in her throat.
Essie waved a hand across her face in dismissal. “Oh, it’s fine, really. It’s been a couple of years. It’s just that, well, my mother and I have never been apart during the holidays, so I do worry about her being alone. But she won’t really be alone. My aunt Viv invited her to come and visit with her family, so as long as there are no big fights between her and Aunt Viv between now and Christmas”—Essie rolled her eyes—“all will be fine.”
Essie wanted desperately to get the subject off her and on to anything else. She noticed Ross’s plate was empty and laughed. “I see you hated tonight’s meal. How about we get started on dessert?” She stood to move his plate to the side buffet, when he reached out a hand to still her, and the charge was instantaneous. She turned and stared.
“I’m sorry I took you away from your mom on Christmas. You sit, and I’ll move these.”
Essie sat, but only because she was more stunned by this apology than anything else. She watched silently as he moved the plates to the buffet and then came back to top off her glass of wine. She looked up at him with a half smile. “I hope you aren’t trying to get me drunk.”
“You say that as if I would need to.”
Part of Essie wanted to call him a “cocky asshole” for that comment, but his matter-of-fact way of stating it held no arrogance, and hell, it wasn’t like he was lying. He was hot as sin and definitely wouldn’t need to get her drunk to get her into bed. So Essie watched as he expertly served the mousse from the left and took his seat.
“You do this like you’ve had your fair share of practice. Have you ever worked in a restaurant?”
“As I said before, you, Essie, are quick to judge, and yes, I have.”
Essie furrowed her brows. “But I looked you up. Your family is quite rich.”
She saw his mouth harden a bit. “That’s my family—though I did get a good amount of money when my mother passed away.”
“I’m really sorry,” she said, but he continued to talk, wanting to gloss over his lost parent in the same way she had.
“Don’t worry. It’s been even more years for me than you. And my father has not always been that forthcoming with sharing his wealth. I will say he was right in wanting me to learn all facets of business, though. I worked a few summers in the kitchens of his resorts. I did kitchen, grounds, hospitality, as well as working construction. I’ve seen every aspect of the business while working through college. He made sure to let me know my education would not come free.”
Essie studied Ross closely and was careful with her words. “He sounds like a tough man. Are you close?”
Ross picked up his wineglass and drained it before looking at her. “That we are not. I always seem to fall just short of Dad’s expectations. No matter, though. I’ve ceased looking for my father’s approval and now only seek to satisfy myself.” Ross smiled, his eyes seemingly quite far away before he blinked and his gaze turned warm and approving. “And I will say, right now I am quite satisfied.”
Part of her wanted to blush and possibly preen under his approving gaze, but something in her wanted to go back to what he was clearly trying to cover up. “You have me at a loss right now, Ross. For all the judging you say I do, I can’t quite figure you out. What I know from Misha is pretty much stats. That you’re a hard worker, maybe overly so, and you have poor eating habits, though not the worst I’ve ever seen. But you counter that with hard, grinding workouts that are just as hard as your work ethic. With you, it seems to be all or nothing. For some reason Misha speaks very highly of you. I’ve known her for quite a while and she doesn’t speak so highly of that many people, so that makes me wonder why.”
Ross shrugged. “Of course Misha likes me. What’s there not to like? I have that kind of effect on women.”
Essie narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, I don’t think so. I’ve known Misha a long time. She would tell me if that was the case. Either way, I think there’s a little something more to you, too. What’s the real reason you’re working so hard that you end up in the ER, having a panic attack that scares you enough to fear it’s a heart attack? What are you running from, Ross Montgomery?”
With that question Ross got up and took her hand, pulling her into his arms. His embrace was swift, but not so fast that she couldn’t push back if she wanted.
But she didn’t want to.
She wanted to stay where she was, her body flush against his solid hardness. Ross looked down, his dark eyes meeting her own in a challenge as old as time.
“Maybe I’m not running from anything, sweet Essie, but running toward something? Did you ever stop to think of that?”
The question took her breath away because she hadn’t thought of it. She blinked in the wonderment of it all, yet at the same time she steeled herself against the emotional onslaught as his lips came down toward hers.
Quincy walked back into the dining room, breaking the sexually charged tension. “How are we doing here?” he said brightly, and stopped short when he realized what he’d walked in on.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll go and, uh, get you another bottle.”
Essie attempted to back away, but Ross, unfazed by the interloper, kept his arm firmly around her waist and challenged her with his gaze.
“Yes, you can, Quincy,” Ross said, cool as ice. “Thank you. I think we’ll have it in the main deck’s salon.”
“Very good, sir,” Quincy said as he quickly left the dining room.
“I think it would be nice to continue this conversation where we can enjoy a view of the sea.”
“Why did you do that?” Essie asked, trying hard to keep a tight rein on her temper. “You may not care about what others think of you, but I sure care what they think of me.”
He seemed to study her hard after that statement, making her increasingly uncomfortable under his critical eye.
“Maybe that’s your problem.”
Essie’s gaze sharpened. “What are you talking about? I don’t have a problem. Besides, it’s you I’m here to fix. It’s you with the problems.”
He raised a brow. “If you say so, Essie.”
Essie pulled back sharply, yanking herself from his embrace, then hating the decision as soon as the coolness of the broken contact hit her. “I say so.”
“Methinks the lady protests just enough to try and convince herself,” he said, smooth and easy. “What are you trying to do? Do you think if you play nice and be a good little girl the world will reward you? I’ve got news for you—it doesn’t work that way. It’s eat or be eaten. You’re a chef. You should know that. Survival of the fittest, and all that. But Lord knows there are opportunities for a swift ass kicking around every corner.”
Ross took a dangerous and altogether too-alluring step toward her as Essie fought to slow her rapidly beating heart. He was just above her, so close that she could feel his breath against her lips.
He spoke again. “But if you’re smart, you’ll also grab swiftly to any chance of pleasure you can get. I know I do.”
Essie snorted, her mind going to him in the ER. “Yeah, and look where it’s gotten you.”
Ross got a dark smolder in his eye, his expression taking on a look of pure sex. “Yeah, look where it’s gotten me. The question is, where will it take you?”
Essie swallowed as Ross stared at her, then gave his head a small shake as if he were dismissing her and the idea that she could be like him: a person who could swim with the big fish and hold her own. The typ
e who could know herself and, really and truly, live in her own pleasure, come what may with the consequences.
Essie studied the idea for a moment. Could I? God, in that moment she really wanted to do so. All she wanted to do was to take Ross with both hands and taste all he had to offer. At least for this moment. But how could she? She barely knew him beyond two conversations, a Google search, and a friend’s recommendation. Jumping into bed like that was definitely not her style. Not to mention, she was in a business relationship with him. Ten days later and maybe, yes, fine, they could go on a date and see where things went. But now? No, it couldn’t be done. It shouldn’t be done.
Still, Essie couldn’t help the small twinge of satisfaction she got from seeing Ross’s eyes widen when she surprised him by suddenly reaching up and fisting his shirt in her hands and, against all her better judgment and his presumptions, pulling him down into a kiss.
Chapter Ten
Holy hell, could this woman kiss!
Ross was instantly swept away by the sweet, decadent, and surprisingly addictive taste of Essie Bradford.
Where he thought she would be timid and demure, she proved him wrong by taking charge, pulling him down to her with two hands, and rising up to meet his lips forcefully with her own. And what a first meeting it was. Those full, ripe, pillowy lips were everything he dreamed they would be. Soft and luxurious, sweet to the taste, the first touch had the normally unflappable Ross just about going weak in the knees.
But he steeled himself. Telling himself to be strong and not to lose it too quickly. Giving himself a pep talk, not unlike he did when he was a teenage boy. Think baseball stats, cold showers, bespectacled librarians . . . okay, maybe not librarians. But still, how was it this almost-unassuming woman, a chef to cook his meals, could come in here and, with a mere brush of her lips, just about lay him flat? Ross closed his eyes and let the feeling take him away.