“And what’s this about some television show she’s signed up for?”
“Television show?”
Of course she didn’t tell them. She knew how’d they react.
“American Chef?”
“Lucy, do you know anything about American Chef?” He heard a faint click. “I’ve put on the speakerphone.”
“Fine,” Matthias muttered.
Lucia’s voice boomed. “It’s a show that travels around America and spotlights different chefs. Serah mentioned signing up for a while ago. Before… you know.”
“They’re coming here tomorrow for an audition.”
“Hell’s blood,” Rafael growled. “The last thing Serah needs is exposure. Especially if Balthazar is lingering around.”
“Who is he?” Lucia demanded.
Rafael sucked in a breath. “Belial’s second in command.”
“God! Even from the bowels of hell, Belial still manages to be a thorn in our sides.”
“He says he serves another.”
“Even better.” There was no masking the sarcasm in Lucia’s voice. “Not only is he vengeful, he works for another Infernati asshole.”
“I have everything under control.”
“Let’s hope you do, Ambrose.” The finality in Lucia’s voice said it all.
“We will further discuss this tomorrow, Ambrose. Early. Preferably before this TV show comes calling.” Rafael left no room for refusal.
“Good. There are other things we should discuss as well.”
“Very well.” With that the call dropped. Not one for familiarities. Then again, Matthias didn’t blame him one bit.
Then again, maybe Deleon knew more than he admitted.
He stalked down the hallway and yanked open the closet door. He grabbed a cotton sheet and flannel blanket and wrenched out a jumbo-sized pillow that was stuffed into the top. He kicked the door shut.
He turned his gaze to Serah’s miraculously closed door. “I’m doomed.” But just because he might have been doomed, didn’t mean the world had to suffer the same fate. He’d see to it. He only hoped Serah could forgive him, because he couldn’t forgive himself.
***
Serah awoke with a start. Warmth tingled its way throughout her entire body. Her toes curled. Whatever Matthias was doing to her needed to stop. No matter how damned good it felt.
She reached over to glance at the clock. Four a.m. She never should’ve gone to bed so early. She’d never get back to sleep. She glanced at the phone flashing next to her nightstand. Five missed calls. All from Lucy. Even if her friend hardly ever slept, it was still too late to call—Lucy and Rafe were probably busy. Lucky little demons.
Then again, they were perfect for each other. Rafe, with his stony reserve and Lucy with her no-nonsense attitude complemented each other perfectly. Truth be told, they were more alike than they realized.
“And they’re in love,” she whispered. “At least one of us is lucky.” Not that she wanted love. She was quite content with her nonexistent love life. Men only complicated matters. And she had a kitchen to run. She didn’t need distractions—not now.
Lord knew she already had one huge distraction as it was. Why did he have to be so big and muscular? And why did she have to fantasize about him—camouflage and all?
Her cheeks warmed and her stomach clenched. Moist heat flooded into her loins. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about that dream. Not the dream—the man.
“He has to go.” She’d talk to Rafe in the morning. How hard could it be to find a new bodyguard?
What about Rafe’s old partner, Dominic? He was able enough. Then again, he’d been sent back to limbo by the woman he loved. Rafe said he still hadn’t fully recovered.
A bodyguard with baggage—the second to last thing she needed right now. Why couldn’t demonic protection be easy? Why did her bodyguard have to spawn dangerous fantasies?
Not that fantasies are all that bad.
“Ugh!” She swiped a paperback from her dresser and perused the title. Private Protection.
Oh gawd.
She continued her scan of the cover. A bare-chested torso of a man wearing a shoulder holster filled the cover, his gun strategically aimed.
Almost as big as Matthias, but not quite.
“Oh, please,” she grumbled, tossing the book to the floor. “I should have bought that Martha Stewart cookbook instead.”
Frustration, sparked by desire, ignited like a furnace. She wanted to scream, but that would only fuel her frustrations more. Matthias would burst in like he had earlier. Her poor little door couldn’t handle any more abuse for the night. And she couldn’t handle any more devious fantasies either.
Why in the hell did he have to kiss her? Ever since then her hormones had gone bonkers. She’d liked the kiss too. That’s what really irked her.
With a low groan, Serah flung herself back into bed and bunched her pillows around her head. She couldn’t sleep. She’d have that stupid dream again. The sad part of it was it felt so real, as if he really were doing all those naughty things to her. And she loved every minute of it.
Maybe Lucy had given her a dose of succubus after all?
At this rate, her audition would be a disaster.
Then again, that’s probably what he wanted. He said it himself. The TV show was a distraction they didn’t need right now.
Had she known when she applied that her friend would turn into a sex-demon and she’d end up a whatever it was she was, she would have never signed up.
To be honest, she’d completely forgotten about the show. Then Daniel Blackburn, the host himself, had called. She tried to get out of it, but the stupid contract was ironclad. Like it had been written by the devil himself. No escape clause at all.
Not one of my most brilliantly thought-out plans, that’s for sure.
Then again, it wasn’t like she’d known that she’d end up a walking demon detector a few months after she sent in the application and contract.
Heck, it was American Chef, not Hell’s Kitchen. Daniel Blackburn seemed harmless enough. And he was kind of attractive in a nerdy sort of way.
Not as attractive as Matthias.
“But he knows how to cook!”
Her naughty self snickered. So does Matthias—where it matters.
For goodness sakes! Would this ever stop? Matthias Ambrose was a big, stubborn behemoth who only cared about his mission and becoming a Paladin. He’d made that clear enough—on several occasions.
Even if he kissed her. Heck, he was probably just trying to shut her up. Sadly enough, it worked, in the most delicious of ways.
“Damn it.” She fisted the sheets and pulled them up around her head. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried desperately to put herself to sleep.
Rolling around in her blankets, she pounded the pillows, wrapped her arms around them and pulled one close to her body. Too damned soft.
“Ugh!” she shouted through her pillow.
Not even counting sheep could help her now.
She threw off her sheets and chucked the pillow across the room. Was this the same torture Lucy had to endure? She remembered how much her friend valued her sleep. And now it seemed she was as sleepless as the demons that surrounded her.
“Caterer by day, demon hunter by night.” Maybe she was the world’s next superhero.
“Spiderman, eat my dust,” she mumbled. Yeah right.
She looked down at her somewhat flat derriere and wrinkled her nose. Even Spanx couldn’t help those pancakes.
She angled a glance to her chest. Those either.
With a shrug, she reached for the remote and turned on the TV. The image of a man sitting at a Bowflex pulling and tugging at the cables flashed before her eyes. Stupid late night infomercials. Why couldn’t it have been the ShamWow Guy and his incredible Slap Chop instead?
The bodybuilder continued his demonstration. Lean, corded muscles bunched and flexed with each move. Not a bad body, for sure. But someth
ing was missing.
It’ll take him a long time to even think about matching Matthias’s physique.
Serah threw her arms up in the air and blew out a long sigh of resignation. Even her TV had been infected by him.
Then again, he was the most beautifully sculpted man—and demon—she’d ever laid her eyes on. Too built even for Men’s Health, yet not too steroid-induced for a bodybuilder magazine. Some of those men—she shuddered at the thought—squeezed and flexed so hard they looked like constipated Incredible Hulk wannabes with no necks, grunts and groans included.
She didn’t like them when they smiled. And she certainly wouldn’t like them when they were angry.
Speaking of smiles, had Matthias ever smiled a day in his life? It was like his mouth was caught in this permanent glower that not even a plastic surgeon could fix.
For God’s sake, stop thinking about him! She slammed her finger down on the channel button. A diet smoothie here, an Ab-Roller there. Late-night television really sucked. Maybe she should just buy the items in hopes that they’d get enough sales and stop advertising.
Yeah, right. They’d probably just come up with some other crazy invention to sell instead.
Then she landed on Duke Nelson’s Magic Protein Powder. For real? And who the hell was Duke Nelson? Like protein powder really gave him that body. With a low groan, she shook her head.
The announcer continued his overdramatic spiel about the wonders of the Magic Protein Powder. Big, bulging biceps, hot women, a smaller dinghy. “And if you call in the next ten minutes, we’ll double your order—absolutely free!” And then in the next whispered breath, “Just pay separate shipping and processing.”
Serah rolled her eyes. She might have bought a lot of things in her life, but very few of them came from infomercials. Then again, she really dug that Combo Cooker XL. Great for those on the go, like herself. If only her clients knew how she cooked at home.
“Have your credit card ready when you call,” continued the announcer.
“My credit card is on lockdown. Sorry buddy.”
With that, she mashed the power button. The TV faded in response. No way did she need protein powder, even if it was only three low payments of $9.99.
Three too many if you asked her.
Darn, she hated it when she woke up this early. The clock flipped from four to five. “Jeez,” she yawned, rubbing her eyes. “Too early to be awake, but too late to fall back asleep.” Mornings like this were killer.
With a reluctant groan, she crawled out of the cocoon of her blankets. Quite literally a cocoon, too, the way they curled and twisted around her. But she was no butterfly, that’s for sure. Especially not this early in the morning.
But damn, those lips of his moved like butterflies, all over her body. If it wasn’t him enrapturing her, what the hell was in that man’s cologne? Something harmful if swallowed, probably.
Maybe a cold shower would help get Mr. Magic Lips out of her mind. And it would wake her up too. Lord knew she’d need all the coffee in the world to make it through the day.
And how was she going to keep him out of the kitchen when Daniel arrived? Lock him out? Not likely, after the show of strength he gave her last night.
She shrugged. She just wouldn’t invite him in. Problem solved. With a confident smile, she leapt from the bed and pushed open the dangling door.
Today would be a good day after all. She’d make sure of it.
Chapter 17
She held her breath, not quite sure what she would find. Farquhar was still snug in the guest bedroom. The door was still closed. Imps weren’t as powerful as demons, and they needed naps every so often. Being a cat didn’t help matters much for him either.
Eat, sleep, and poop, she remembered a friend from culinary school say once. That’s all my cat is good for.
Wait until she met Farquhar. He smoked cigars and swilled down scotch like it was going out of style. The eating—well, boy, could he eat.
“He’d probably eat me out of house and home if he could,” she whispered as she tiptoed down the hall.
No way in hell was she going to wake the sleeping beast. Then again, he was a demon. Demons didn’t need sleep. Some, like Lucy and Rafe, though, still caught a few Z’s every so often. Then again, Lucy was only half demon. Sleep still came naturally for her. Rafe just liked tagging along.
Maybe Matthias was one of those demons who yearned to be human and still partook in human activities. After all, she’d seen him sneak a few pieces of popcorn when he thought she wasn’t looking.
Then again, he was a bodyguard. What kind of bodyguard sleeps on the job? Especially one who took the commando role so seriously.
Not many.
Oh well, she had to deal with him anyway. Might as well be now.
She shimmied into the living room and rounded the corner to the dining room. The sooner she got her coffee made, the better.
The sooner she could escape to her shower—alone.
Party pooper.
Yep, that she was.
A low gravelly moan came from the couch.
“Oh no,” she mumbled.
Oh yes!
She covered her eyes, but peeked through open fingers.
A hand draped over the couch and the sheet fell down across his chest. Eyes still closed, he swallowed and moistened his lips. He twisted and turned on the couch, the blanket falling away, exposing black silk.
Huh?
Red polka dots.
Her cheeks warmed at the sight. Muscles bunched and bulged against the delicate fabric. Her gaze moved upward. Something else pressed against the fabric, the boxers barely concealing what lay beneath.
Pulling her hands from her eyes, she licked her lips. Her mouth watered and her pulse bobbed. She stood still, transfixed by the view in front of her. She yearned to go over and stroke those magnificent muscles through the silky fabric. Her fingers tingled.
Get control of yourself.
She scanned the room. The clothing they’d bought earlier lay neatly over the easy chair. Shoe boxes and packages stacked in order on the floor. Oh great. A neat-freak. He and Kalli would get along swimmingly.
How’d he sneak those into the clothes when she wasn’t looking? Then again, he was a demon. If there was one thing she knew, each demon had one or more tricks up his sleeve. Maybe shoplifting was his. Regardless, she’d make certain he only wore tighty-whities from now on. She shivered, imagining him sprawled across her sofa in nothing but a pair of briefs. Even David Beckham in his skimpy Armanis couldn’t compare. Scratch that. He was sleeping fully clothed from now on.
“I’m hopeless,” she whispered. Why, oh, why couldn’t the Fore-Demons send Kevin Costner instead? Nah, Whitney Houston would get jealous. Then again, Kevin Costner didn’t have much of a body. And he was old enough to be her father.
Never mind. He would have worked perfectly. No fantasies to interfere with her sanity.
She padded her way into the dining room and jotted into the kitchen. With a long yawn, she reached up and pulled open the cupboard. She needed something strong if she expected to function the entire day.
Smiling, she grabbed the canister labeled Extreme Dark Roast. Yes, it’s that kind of morning.
She scooped several spoonfuls of coffee beans into the grinder, silently wishing for the miracle to keep Matthias and his scantily clad body from hearing the clamor.
With a quick shrug, she rubbed the locket dangling from her neck. If it worked earlier, maybe it would work again. She closed her eyes.
May the kitchen noises not disturb the demons and imps in this house.
Maybe she should add an amen and a hallelujah for good measure. The powers that be might like that touch.
She pushed the lid down on the grinder and pressed the button. The grinder roared to life. And no one came to bug her.
“Hallelujah!” she exclaimed with a triumphant fist in the air. She pushed the button again and the grinder came to a halt. She brought her nose to the
freshly ground goodness and breathed in.
“Mmm.”
She poured water into the coffee maker and flipped the switch. With slow, methodical drops, the coffeemaker bubbled and sizzled to life. Too bad good coffee couldn’t just come in an instant.
The aroma of warm coffee wafted in the air. She plopped down into the barstool, a soft grin spreading on her lips.
It reminded her of Nonni. Her grandmother had always enjoyed her coffee, especially Italian roast. Serah on the other hand, preferred the darker, more flavorful blends. Usually she’d make an espresso, but she had the sinking suspicion she was brewing for more than one today.
Her stomach roared. Apparently breakfast was in order too. She lugged herself out of the barstool and fired up the stove. If these demons expected something fancy, they were sorely mistaken.
Scrambled eggs and bacon it would be.
She sprayed a healthy coating of olive oil and the pan sizzled in response. There was nothing she enjoyed more than cooking in private.
She whisked her eggs, added some milk and cheddar cheese and tossed the mixture into the pan. Chopped onions and peppers always made a good match as well. A little garlic and pepper and her not so secret ingredient—cottage cheese. Fooled them every time.
The sizzling aromas wafted in the air as she threw some bacon on the griddle. The scents continued to swirl around her. She loved cooking breakfast. She and Nonni had always cooked breakfast together.
“I wonder if demons like toast.”
“I’ll take rye if you have it.”
Pulling her housecoat tight to her body, she spun around. Matthias lounged against the doorjamb, a pair of lounging pants hiding her view from the silk boxers he wore earlier.
Thank heaven for that.
“How’d you get in here?”
Matthias narrowed his gaze. “I walked in.”
“I put up a blocking charm. I guess it didn’t work.”
“Oh.”
“See! I told you I’m just your average Midwestern gal.”
Matthias scratched his chin. “What did you say in your charm?”
“I prayed that the kitchen noises didn’t disturb the demons and imps in this house.”
Demons Like It Hot Page 12