Fair Play

by Tracy A. Ward

  by Christine Warner

  Prologue

  Jill pulled the whisk from the bowl of frosting and licked the tip. Perfect!

  She checked the time, then slid the chocolate marble cake toward her and applied the finishing touches. She’d only been with Creations for fifteen months, and it was a huge compliment that the head chef had asked her to take the lead on these two big parties.

  Everything needed to be perfect. Jill had worked too hard to earn her position as sous-chef at the age of twenty-five.

  “Sam, do you have the ice cream cart ready to go?” Jill eyed the nervous apprentice that she’d entrusted to help her with the final course for the Renwick birthday celebration. She’d had him organize an old-fashioned ice-cream cart on wheels, with an assortment of flavors. A wave of excitement fluttered her stomach. This would be the crowning glory to the eightieth birthday party celebration in the main dining room.

  “All set, Chef.”

  “Wonderful. Thanks.”

  Jill’s shoulders tensed as footsteps approached from behind. She put her smile in place and turned, expecting to greet the executive chef. But the man who approached looked far out of place in the kitchen—hell, he appeared to have stepped from the pages of GQ Magazine. Dressed to perfection in a black suit—his tie slightly askew—this man’s penetrating dark eyes would melt ice cream stored in a deep freeze. A flush burned across her flesh as his attention focused on her.

  Tiny dots of sweat spread along the back of her neck. She dusted one hand down the side seam of her immaculate white chef coat, then rolled her shoulders in an attempt to put herself at ease, even though she was far from calm.

  A twinge of regret that she wasn’t dressed in something more flattering flitted across her mind. Free of make-up and wearing a chef coat with her hair piled beneath a flat chef cap wasn’t the best way to make an impression.

  You’re not here to attract men, Jill chastised herself. From the day she’d graduated culinary school, she’d promised herself she’d never let her dreams of romance interfere with her work. She wouldn’t start now by allowing a man obviously out of her league to distract her from her duties.

  Something about the man seemed oddly familiar. But if she’d met him before she’d remember. Of that she was certain. She swallowed, holding her smile in place, hoping he hadn’t come back to complain on behalf of one of the parties.

  “Can I help you, sir?”

  “Are you the chef?”

  “I’m the one in charge tonight. Is there a problem?” Jill licked her lips, fear grinding through her. But no. She didn’t have to be afraid. Each dinner party had been prepared and cooked to perfection. She wouldn’t let doubt eat her layer of confidence away. Not tonight. She stood tall, ignoring the quiver riding the length of her legs.

  The dark-haired man didn’t answer right away, instead he studied her face, and the harsh lines around his mouth disappeared. He’d come in looking all business, but the seriousness that shrouded him upon entering the kitchen eased and Jill relaxed. His eyes softened and his mouth curved into a small smile. A smile that turned her bones to gelato.

  “Everything was perfect. I wanted to meet the chef who managed to not only have everyone in our party cleaning their plates but knocked my grandmother speechless—at her birthday celebration no less.” He laughed and the sound tickled her senses and sent a flare of goose bumps across her flesh.

  “Thank you.” Relief squared her shoulders.

  “My grandmother wants to meet you. Would you mind?”

  “I’d love to.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “How about I arrange the candles on your grandmother’s cake and carry it out personally?”

  “You’d make her day.”

  She grabbed the decorative candles from their boxes and placed them in the center of the cake with shaky hands, all too conscious of the man beside her. Even with delicious aromas filling the kitchen, she couldn’t help but drown in his sandalwood scent. Her tummy somersaulted as she picked up the cake and turned toward him.

  She didn’t miss the appreciation filling his eyes as their gazes locked in what she could only term as eye-sex. Never had she felt so attracted to a man. Her skin flushed and burned under his stare. If she had a free hand, she’d have swiped the heat from her forehead. Jill’s hands shook and the cake platter shifted several degrees to the left.

  “Oh!”

  As they each tried to catch the slipping cake, Jill knocked the dessert into the crisp cotton of his white shirt peeking through the V of his finely tailored jacket.

  “Oh my God…”

  Then the rest of the cake that wasn’t attached to his clothes hit the floor with a thump of finality. Her heart sank and a loud buzz filled her ears. Her attention moved from the heap of mashed cake at their feet to the man’s face.

  “What have I done?” Jill cried. “I’m so sorry.”

  He delivered a lopsided smile, telling her it wasn’t a big deal. As if a cake smashing into his chest was an everyday occurrence. But Jill couldn’t match his smile as the fear she’d pushed aside moments ago fisted her throat. She’d lose her job for sure. Dropping a guest’s cake, on a guest no less—

  Maybe she could do some damage control. In a trance-like stupor, she pulled out the bar towel tucked into her pocket and dabbed at the frosting covering the front of his immaculate suit. A frosted flower clung precariously from one of his buttons and she plucked it between the folds of her towel before continuing to swipe at his shirt. But instead of clearing away the dark frosting, she only ended up smearing it across more of his chest.

  Tears burned the back of her eyes and filled her throat, strangling her ability to apologize. The night that started out with such promise had just disintegrated into a pile of mangled cake and plops of frosting at her feet. She would be in so much trouble when the head chef found out about this—and for sure he would. She swallowed the lump lodged in her throat just as the man whose suit she ruined lifted her chin with his thumb.

  “It’s only cake.” His gaze still burned—in fact the heat surrounded her and snapped in the air between them.

  “B-but your suit. The cake…” A single tear rolled down her cheek, quickly followed by another.

  A brief gasp escaped her lips as the man gripped her shoulders between his strong hands and dragged her against his solid length.

  The warmth of his mouth touched hers lightly, and she anchored her hands in a tight grip around his lapels before he pulled her in tight, swooshing the air from her lungs.

  All reason fled, and her vision tunneled. She closed her eyes as his mouth crushed into hers. Any tears remaining dried on her cheek. His tongue ran the seam of her lips until they parted, and then he thrust his warmth inside.

  With the cake forgotten at her feet, a strange, unexplainable recklessness possessed her. She ran her palms the length of his chest, pausing over the erratic beat of his heart. A surge of adrenaline overpowered her, and she curled her fists into his jacket. She didn’t know this man, but she thrilled at the passion between them, enjoying the effect she had on him as much as the effect he had on her.

  His hands slid from her shoulders to glide down her arms and smooth around her side to melt against the small of her back. He sighed against her lips…or was that her sigh? Who cares? She’d never been so lost in a kiss before.

  What the hell are you doing?

  She shoved her nagging inner voice aside, then slipped her hands beneath his jacket. His muscles rippled against the expensive fabric. They stumbled backward into the wall, or maybe she pushed him? Nothing mattered as she melded into his solid strength. Jill could neither make sense of nor stop what was happening. She accepted the craziness of it all and sank further into his warm arms, moving her hands up to his shoulders and digging her nails in as he pulled her even tighter, nearly lifting her off the floor.

  She’d never been kissed so thoroughly in her life.

  racy A. Ward, Fair Play