by Alison Bliss
“I’m waiting,” she said, still holding the fork up to his lips.
He groaned. “Look, I already told you I—”
Without warning, Jessa quickly shoved the morsel into his open mouth. Caught off guard by the unexpected move, his lips automatically closed around the fork as she pulled it away, which left the piece of beef behind in his mouth. The piece of steak rolled across his tongue as the juices coated his taste buds. Though he hadn’t even chewed, an explosion of intense flavor hit him so hard that he nearly moaned out loud.
Holy hell.
Sadly, he used to consider himself a meat-and-potatoes type of guy. But after a big change to his lifestyle had overhauled his diet, Max now considered himself more of a protein-shake-and-baked-sweet-potato type of man. Didn’t mean that he didn’t miss red meat though. Still, no matter how badly he wanted to chew and swallow and get the full drugging effect of the tasty, well-seasoned beef, he just couldn’t do it.
Not without ruining his diet and regaining some of his old, bad habits.
Yes, the steak morsel was insanely delicious. And yeah, it was such a small piece that it shouldn’t matter. But Max knew himself well, and that one slip-up on his diet was usually enough to set him back for months. He just couldn’t give in to that kind of temptation. Ever. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t use this as a perfect opportunity to work Jessa into more of a frenzy.
Unable to help himself, Max spit the small bite out into the palm of his hand. Then he purposely cringed and held it far away from him like it was the most disgusting thing he’d ever tasted.
Jessa’s mouth fell open, and fury lit her eyes. She was clearly shocked by his reaction to the taste of her food. He’d accidentally stumbled onto a way to get her worked up. Good.
He shoved the urge to laugh down deep and glanced around for the nearest garbage can. “Where can I put this?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Well, my second choice would be in the trash.”
He lifted one brow. “Do I want to know what your first choice would’ve been?”
“Probably not.”
Chapter Seven
Jessa thrummed her fingers on the picnic table.
Irritated didn’t even begin to describe how she was feeling in this moment after seeing Max spit out her food. In front of her. Like a two-year-old. The jerk.
Okay, so maybe it wasn’t real mature for her to force the bite of meat on him in the first place. He had specifically said he didn’t want it. But instead of acting like a big baby, couldn’t he just have humored her and swallowed the damn thing?
As she watched him walking back from the trash can, a fresh round of frustration coursed through her veins. That had been the first time in her life that anyone had ever turned down a free meal from her. And although she knew it was silly, it had hurt her feelings.
She had no doubt that was the chef in her talking, the one who wanted everyone to love what she made for them. She always wanted to win people over, astound them with her talent for cooking, and turn them into happy repeat customers.
She’d hoped to win Max over with her food too, but clearly that wasn’t going to happen. If he had tried it once and not liked it, then that would’ve been one thing. But he hadn’t even given it half a chance. And she really wanted him to.
Then again, what did it matter if Max didn’t give her food a fair shake? Who was he to snub his nose at her dish anyway? It’s not like the guy was some Michelin-starred chef or something. Why the hell did she even care that he didn’t have great taste and probably couldn’t tell the difference between a good piece of prime beef or an old lump of shoe leather?
She sighed. Because I like him, that’s why. And I want him to like me…including my cooking. Damn it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t right for me to force you to take a bite like that.”
He shrugged. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
They sat in silence for a moment. “So, um…did you at least get a small taste of it?” Oh God, I’m actually fishing for a freakin’ compliment. How pathetic is that?
“Well, as I stated earlier, I don’t usually eat…stuff like that. But I can tell you that the small taste I got wasn’t too bad. It almost reminded me of the food at the Pearl Oyster,” he said with a smirk.
Jessa gasped, offended by the comparison. “Are you kidding me right now?”
Max shook his head, but his grin widened. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Since I first came to town, I’ve heard nothing but horror stories about the food in that place. Everyone constantly talks about how nasty it is.”
“Have you eaten there yet?”
“No, of course not. I mean, it’s not like it comes highly recommended or anything. Why would I go to a restaurant that other people warn me away from?”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Don’t knock it until you try it then.”
Try it, hell. She had one customer who swore the food was so bad at the Pearl Oyster that the lady said she was tempted to burn the place down herself to stop them from ever serving another meal. At the time, Jessa had giggled about it. But now, knowing that Max thought her food was similar to theirs, she only wanted to prove him wrong. Dead wrong.
An idea ran through her head, and she bit her lip. “Fine. I will, if you will.”
“Huh?” Max blinked at her, clearly not understanding what she meant.
“The Pearl Oyster. I want to try it…and I would like you to join me.”
He stared at her in complete silence, as if she’d asked him to impregnate her with a turkey baster. “If you heard it’s not a good place to eat, why the hell would you want to go there?”
“Because you said my food reminded you of theirs and implied it was good. But that’s not what I hear from everyone else. And it’s not possible for them to be as good as you claim and as bad as I think they probably are. So one of us is wrong…and I want to see which one. Are you game?”
“I…uh, can’t. I mean, as the health inspector, it would be considered unprofessional, if not unethical, to go out to dinner with you, Jess.”
She held her hand up. “I wasn’t suggesting a date. I understand why that would be a conflict of interest. But that doesn’t stop us from going to eat together as colleagues.”
Max’s face paled, and a bead of sweat formed over his brow. “Um, I really don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Why not?”
Wiping at his brow, Max hesitated so long that she wasn’t entirely sure he was going to answer her question at all. But then he finally said, “Because I don’t think the city council would approve of me going to dinner with you. I’m sure they would be against me fraternizing with a business owner in such a manner.”
There was no way she was letting Max out of this one. Maybe it was her competitive nature, but she felt like she had something to prove about her food. “Okay, fine. Then I’ll go in to city hall and have a talk with the mayor about it in the morning. I’m sure I can convince him that this is a business arrangement only so that he’ll approve of it.” Jessa smiled. “In fact, I’ll even invite him to join us.”
“No,” Max said firmly. He closed his eyes and dropped his head forward. She wasn’t sure, but it sounded like he even breathed out a curse word. “I mean, that’s not necessary. I’ll go out to dinner with you, but let’s keep it just between us. The less people who know about it, the better.”
She smiled triumphantly. “All right. I know you have to work tonight so how about we go tomorrow night? I’ll ask Mary or Lisa if they can switch a shift with me. Will that work for you?”
“Yeah,” Max mumbled.
“Perfect.” She pulled a pen out of her shirt pocket and hastily scribbled her address on a napkin, sliding it toward Max. “Then it’s a date.”
He lifted his head and glared at her.
“Oh, sorry.” She smiled. “Or not.”
* * *
Max pulled into Jessa’s driveway on time, but he didn�
�t get out of the truck right away. Instead, he stared at the steering wheel as he contemplated bashing his head into it a couple of times. He couldn’t believe that he had agreed to go out to dinner with her tonight. Not that he’d had much of a choice.
The last thing he could let her do was to talk to the mayor about him. Otherwise, she would’ve quickly found out that he wasn’t who he said he was. That would’ve been a complete disaster…just like tonight would be. How the hell am I supposed to convince her that I like the food at the Pearl Oyster when it tastes like shit?
A noise caught his attention, and he gazed out his truck’s window at her house. The setting sun had already dipped behind the small dark gray cottage with the white trim and black shutters, but there was still plenty of light to see her stepping outside onto the tiny covered front porch built out of mahogany-stained oak.
Thank God he’d gone with his gut and dressed in a blue button-down shirt, black pants, and a black suit jacket. Because when Jessa stepped off the porch, his jaw practically hit the ground.
Not a date, my ass.
The short pink dress was eye-catching and a bit revealing to say the least. A hint of shoulder. Flirty neckline. A whole lot of leg. And not at all what he had pictured her wearing when he picked her up.
Jessa usually had more of a chic bohemian style that suited her laid-back personality and happy-go-lucky ways. But the sexy woman walking toward him was nothing like the sweet, pretty Jessa he had become accustomed to over the past week. This Jessa was an erotic vision who wore a dazzling smile…and not much else.
He couldn’t help but obsess over every sensual little detail of her body as she came closer. Long, wavy red hair. The gentle curve cinching her waist. The round slope of her hips. Silky smooth legs. The bare thigh peeking out from beneath her dress.
He stumbled out of the truck to greet her and nearly fell on his face. Sonofabitch. When the hell had I gotten so clumsy? “Hi,” he said, righting himself and moving around to the passenger side to open her door for her. “You look different…uh, I mean, great.”
“Thanks. So do you,” she said, accepting the hand he offered her. She slid into the cab of his truck, coming perilously close to flashing him whatever was beneath that skirt. Thankfully, she managed to hold the front of her material down to keep it from drifting higher up her legs.
Max quickly darted around to the driver’s seat and climbed inside. He started the engine and pointed the nose of his truck toward their destination. “You let your hair down,” Max said, wondering why that suddenly seemed so significant to him.
“I usually wear it down unless I’m at work.” She fiddled with the gold bracelet on her wrist. “I don’t usually wear jewelry or any other kind of accessories either. They tend to get in the way.”
Max nodded. He understood that well. “I’m the same way. I only wear a watch when I’m on the construction site.”
“Construction site?”
He froze. Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that. “My best friend, Sam, runs a construction crew, and I visit him on site occasionally. Ya know, just to say hello.”
“Oh, I see. For a second I thought you must’ve changed career paths on me.”
Damn it. He needed to change the subject before he let anything else slip out. “So are you ready to eat?” God, why did I have to say that? Just the thought of eating there makes me sick. Ugh.
She smiled, flashing her straight, white teeth. “Yes. I’m dying to try this place out. This should be, ah…interesting, I think.”
His gaze fell onto her short hem, and his stomach tightened. Not nearly as interesting as that dress.
They arrived at the Pearl Oyster a few minutes later and strolled leisurely inside. Almost immediately, the maître d’ greeted them and asked them to follow him, leading them into a fancy, nearly empty dining room.
Max placed his hand gently on the small of her back, guiding her to the table in the center of the room. He pulled out an elegant, high-back chair and waited for her to sit before taking a seat of his own across from her.
Pressed white linens covered the surface of the table, which was decorated with white silk peony centerpieces and gold-rimmed place settings. The maître d’ offered them menus and filled their water glasses, and then Max ordered a bottle of their best wine before the waiter took his leave of absence.
“I hope you’re okay with me ordering the wine.”
“Sure. Sounds great.” Jessa took in her surroundings. “It’s so much prettier in here than I expected. I love those opaque globe chandeliers. They’re lovely.”
Max gazed up at the light fixtures. Their incandescent globes looked like oversized pearls with soft twinkling lights inside of them. “They’re beautiful.” He should know. He had been the one who wired them into place back when they opened. Made six hundred bucks on that job.
They looked over the menu in silence until the waiter returned with the wine and took their order. With so much sophistication in such a posh establishment, anyone would undoubtedly assume that their meal was being prepared by a professional, possibly award-winning chef. But Max knew better.
The Pearl Oyster had once been a great place to dine. But once the owner’s youngest son took over the running of the kitchen, things had gone downhill fast. The restaurant’s dining experience—and its reputation for putting out quality food—had quickly been ruined. It was a classy place with the worst cuisine anyone’s ever tasted, a fact Jessa would soon be finding out.
While waiting for their appetizers to arrive, they chatted freely and drank a glass of wine. Max was careful to only have a small one that he sipped slowly, but Jessa poured freely from the bottle and was already working on her second glass. Since she wasn’t the one driving home, it didn’t really matter.
The waiter finally arrived with their salads. Max had ordered his with a light balsamic vinaigrette while Jessa had ordered a creamy buttermilk ranch dressing. He watched in horror as she took bite after bite of the side salad with the calorie-rich dressing, but he kept his comments and thoughts to himself.
Besides, there was a good chance that her salad was the only thing she’d be eating tonight anyway. It apparently had been some kind of prepackaged salad mix, and the cooks in the back hadn’t been able to screw that up. But Max had been here enough times to know that he shouldn’t hold out hope for a great meal. It never happened anymore in this place.
When their entrées were finally served, Max wanted to laugh at how fast the waiter dropped the dishes onto their table and hightailed it out of there. Apparently the poor guy was used to getting complaints on the food and didn’t want to wait around.
Jessa glared at her plate, her mouth forming an even, grim line. “Well, none of this looks very appetizing.”
He glanced over at her dinner and fought the urge to grin. “What’s wrong?”
“Well, for starters, they overcooked my steak and forgot the Dijon cream sauce they were supposed to drizzle it with. And then there’s this,” she said, using a fork to lift a soggy blob of lobster from her plate. “It looks like an old sock that they drenched in butter.”
Max cleared his throat to keep from laughing. “How about your side dishes? Are they okay at least?”
She frowned. “No. There’s a layer of oil over the cheesy risotto, and the fried mushrooms are nothing but grease.”
“Maybe they’ll taste better than they look.”
“How’s yours?” she asked, glancing over at his plate.
The three-quarter-inch-thick amberjack filet Max had ordered sat atop a bed of brown rice with a side of heirloom carrots and asparagus. It was the lowest calorie dish on the menu, and the grilled fish actually looked pretty good on the plate.
“Mine is fine,” he said prematurely, knowing that there would most definitely be something wrong with his as well.
He raked his fork into one side of the filet and pulled away a chunk of the fish. Almost immediately, he noticed that the center had not been thoroughly cooked. Thankfull
y, Jessa sat on the opposite side of the table and couldn’t see the raw meat. So he pushed the piece back in place to hide the center and stabbed a carrot instead and bit into it. It was way harder than he’d expected, and it crunched between his teeth.
The sound had Jessa lifting her head. “Are your carrots undercooked?”
Max swallowed the hard, bland vegetable. “Not at all. They’re perfectly cooked.” If raw is what they were aiming for.
Max tried not to cringe as he watched Jessa try a bite of everything on her plate. She chewed on a tiny piece of her steak for what seemed like forever while scrunching her nose in disgust. Then she tried the fried mushrooms, which had her shuddering. After a bite of the risotto, he was pretty sure he heard her gag. And the lobster? Yeah, she spit that out into her napkin almost immediately.
With a frustrated sound of annoyance, Jessa glanced around the room. “Where’s our waiter?”
Probably hiding in one of the bathroom stalls. “Not sure. Are you sending your food back?”
“God, yes. This is the worst food I’ve ever tasted. It’s so bad that someone could end up in a hospital getting their stomachs pumped out after consuming it. I can’t eat this…crap.” Her eyes met his, and she sighed heavily.
The hair on the back of his neck prickled. He knew she was remembering when he’d said that very thing about her own food. He hadn’t truly meant it though, damn it. Everyone in town knew that the food here sucked. Guilt coursed through him, and he wanted to kick himself in the ass.
He felt terrible that she’d taken his comment about her dish to heart. He had wanted to rile her up, not hurt her feelings. It didn’t take a genius to know that any chef who had so many repeat customers wouldn’t serve anyone crap. But apparently, he’d made her second-guess herself. He hated that.
“I haven’t eaten here in a while. I guess the food has really gone downhill,” he said, hoping that would help to soothe the wound his previous comment had caused. “When I was comparing your food to theirs, I was going off of memory. Their food used to be a lot better than this.”