"This is amazing," Claire says, her mouth still full of cake. The others nod in agreement.
We sample Jenny's flan next, and the moment I taste it, I know I have some serious competition.
"Have you ladies been practicing your desserts?" Patrick asks.
"We practice everything," Jenny answers confidently.
We move on to Robbs' cake. It's dry, and the 'touch' of cayenne sets my mouth on fire. The other chefs reach for their water glasses, and I know that Robbs' dish is definitely in third place.
"This is certainly interesting, Robbs," Claire says as her eyes water. "But I'm afraid you were a little heavy handed with the pepper. I suggest that in the future, you sample your batters before baking."
"Yes, Chef." Robbs' face is red, but I don't know if it's because of the heat of his cake or the embarrassment he feels at Claire's critique.
"If you'll excuse us, we're going to step into the kitchen and decide on a winner," Patrick announces. He and Claire rise from the table while Paul remains behind with us.
"Paul, I'd have no problem if you want to weigh in on their decision," Jenny tells him.
"That's quite all right," Paul says. "I'd hate for anyone to be accused of receiving favoritism. Besides, I trust Patrick and Claire completely... and I don't envy the position you and Kiara have put them in. This is the closest challenge we've had yet."
"Thank you," says Jenny, smiling.
Patrick and Claire return from the kitchen. "Before we announce the winner, I want both of you ladies to know that your dishes were divine," Claire begins. "In fact, I'd like to suggest to Paul that we put both of them on the permanent menu. It's time to change things up a bit, and I'm tired of cooking the same damn stuff all of the time."
"Thank you so much!" Jenny gushes.
"Thank you," Claire says. "Since both dishes were flawless, we based our decision on who successfully executed the most components. This week's winner is Kiara."
Paul smiles brightly at her announcement.
"Thank you so much," I say, beaming. I open my mouth to say more, but Robbs cuts me off.
"Now that the winner has been announced, could I please have my assignment for the day?" he asks Paul. "Or would you like me to go back to the kitchen and prove that I can make a chocolate cake?" he adds sarcastically.
"You know what? I'm in a generous mood today, Robbs," Paul answers. "I'm going to let all three of you decide who you'd like to work with today and throughout the weekend. I'll even let you choose first, Robbs, if the ladies don't have a problem with that."
"It's no problem for me," I reply.
"Me neither," Jenny agrees. "I'd be happy to work with anyone in the kitchen... well, almost anyone." She looks at Robbs.
"I'll work with Harrison then," Robbs says sharply. He pushes his chair away from the table and stomps into the kitchen.
"I'd like to work with Michael, if that's all right with you, Kiara," Jenny says. I suspect that Jenny has a bit of a crush on the Roast Chef, and I tell her that if she wants to work with him it's just fine with me.
"Michael won't be in for another half hour at least," Paul informs her, "which will give you plenty of time to share your flan recipe with Claire... I agree that both of your desserts should be put on our permanent menu."
"Thank you, Paul." Jenny says and turns to me. "Who are you going to work with this weekend? When you're not helping Claire with your dessert, that is?"
"I'm going to work with Cole," I announce. "It's time for me to learn how to make a sauce that won't break," I add.
I smile at Paul before Jenny and I set off for the kitchen to share our dessert recipes with Claire.
***
"That was some impressive work you did at the restaurant today," Paul tells me. We're sitting on his comfortable, overstuffed leather sofa watching Top Chef. Paul loves culinary reality television as much as I do. It's just one of many things we have in common.
"Thank you, baby," I say.
His doorbell rings, and he jumps up from the couch. "That must be our Chinese food," he says as he crosses the room. We'd both had a long day at work, and we agreed that delivery was our best option for dinner. We haven't discussed whether or not I'm going to spend the night at his place, but it's getting late and I'm hoping that tonight will be 'our night' together.
Paul opens the door, hands the delivery man two twenties, and takes the bags from his hands.
"Oh my god, that smells delicious," I say as Paul deposits the bags on his coffee table. "What goes best with Chinese food, red wine or white?"
"White goes best with what I ordered for us," Paul explains. "But if you're going to drink, then I'm going to insist that you spend the night. I can crash on the couch, if that will make you more comfortable."
"We're both adults," I answer. "I think we can handle sleeping next to each other in the bed."
"I'm not so sure about that," he replies. He walks into his kitchen and retrieves plates, utensils, wine glasses, and a chilled bottle of chardonnay. He sets everything down on the table and returns to his seat next to me while I unpack the food.
"I'm so glad you came back to the restaurant," he tells me as he pours the wine. "We're going to have so much fun working together. And I'll be so glad when I can get rid of Robbs."
I laugh. "Be careful, the way you're talking, someone might think you've already chosen your new apprentice."
"But I'm not making the decisions anymore," he reminds me.
"Then how are you so sure I'm going to win?" I ask.
"Because you're the best," he replies.
I lean in to kiss him but his phone rings and interrupts us.
"God, I hope it's not someone at the restaurant." His frown turns to a smile when he checks his phone. "Hi, Mom," he answers happily.
I feel awkward listening in on his conversation, so I stand. "Bathroom," I whisper. He nods, and I make my escape. I don't actually need to use the restroom, so I check my makeup in the vanity mirror. The dark circles under my eyes have disappeared, and the gauntness is gone from my face. It's amazing what being happy can do for my appearance.
I crack open the bathroom door and listen for Paul's voice. The apartment is silent, so I'm fairly certain he's finished his call. I step back into the living room and see that he's enjoying a crab pot-sticker.
"Is everything all right with your family?" I ask as I return to my seat. "It's awfully late for your mom to be calling."
"She knows I usually work late in the kitchen. She always calls around this time," Paul explains. "And yes, everything's fine. She wanted to know if we were going to be able to make it to Thanksgiving."
"We...?" I ask. "So she knows about us?"
"Of course she does. I tell my mother everything... she even knows about what an ass I was. She's the one who advised me to take things slow with you."
I'm glad that Paul is close to his mother, but I'm not sure that I'm comfortable with her knowing all of the intimate details of our lives. "So what did you tell her... about Thanksgiving? I assumed we'd be working over the holidays."
Paul shakes his head. "I close the restaurant down on Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter. I don't feel right asking my employees to be away from their families."
"You have such a kind heart, baby," I tell him as I twist lo mien onto my fork. The food is salty and satisfying, and I chase it with my entire glass of wine.
"Slow down, baby," Paul teases me. "Are you okay? You threw that wine back like something's bothering you."
"I'm just a little jealous, I guess," I admit. "Sometimes I wish my mom was around to give me advice."
"Have you ever thought about trying to find your parents?" Paul asks softly.
I shake my head. "They left me. If they want to see me again, they can find me. For all I know, they're dead."
"I'm sorry, baby. Let's change the subject. It looks like Charlie and Sarah are in the running to win this week's challenge," he says as he gestures to the television.
"I h
ate Sarah," I say. "I hope Charlie kicks her ass."
We finish our meal in silence while we watch the drama play out before us. As I'd hoped, Charlie wins the competition.
"I'd love to be on one of these shows one day," I confess. "Or maybe one of the networks could shoot a show at Fission!"
"Oh my god, that's the last thing I'd ever want to do," Paul groans. "Think about it, all of the cameramen would get in our way."
"But it would be good for business," I argue playfully.
"Business is just fine." He smiles at me and once again I feel as if I could melt into the chair.
"What are you smiling about?" he asks after several moments.
"You," I answer. "I'm so happy when we're together, Paul. I feel like I'm living in a fairy tale."
"This is no fairy tale," Paul insists. "Fairy tales end. And I don't intend to ever stop making you happy."
I fall into his arms and our lips meet. We kiss softly... I lay down on the couch, pulling Paul on top of me. He runs one hand through my hair while the other grips my ass. I wrap my legs around his waist and lift my pelvis to his... I can feel his growing erection against my hip. I thrust back and forth against it.
He pulls away from me slightly. "Kiara..." he says, "if you keep doing that, I'm not going to be able to control myself."
"What makes you think I want you to control yourself?" I ask in my most seductive voice. "I know you want to take things slowly," I say as I continue rocking my hip back and forth against his throbbing cock. "So we can go as slowly as you'd like."
Paul climbs off of me, stands, and lifts me into his arms. "What are you doing?" I squeal in delight.
"I told you I want to do this right," he explains with a grin. "So I'm taking you to the bedroom." He carries me into his room, and we collapse together onto the bed. I reach for the hem of my T-shirt, and he covers my hand with his.
"Let me," he insists. He lifts the shirt over my head and tosses it to the floor. I sit up, and he reaches behind me and unhooks my bra. "You're so beautiful, Kiara," he tells me as he takes off his own shirt. He rolls onto his side and pulls me down next to him. We kiss passionately, our tongues dancing together as we hold each other close.
I reach for Paul's belt, and he stops me again. "We're taking it slowly... remember?" he whispers into my ear. "I just want to lay here for a minute, and enjoy the feeling of your bare skin against mine."
He kisses me again, and I wrap my arms around his torso. His smooth chest moves against mine as we breathe in unison, and I lose myself in the emotions of the moment. We continue kissing softly for what seems like both a second and a lifetime. Involuntarily, I start pushing my hips into him once more.
"All right," Paul says, grinning as he pulls away from me. "I can take a hint." He loosens his belt and pulls off his jeans before sliding my pants down my legs. I part my legs and reach for his hips, but he has other ideas.
"You know that a good chef always has to taste what he's working with," he whispers before his head disappears between my legs. I feel his tongue lash against my clit, and I cry out in passion.
"Oh, Paul..." I moan. "Oh, baby... just like that." My eyes roll back in my head as he increases the pressure of his tongue. He slips one finger inside me, and it sends me over the edge. My body spasms and explodes in ecstasy. Paul leaves a trail of kisses from my hip to my earlobe.
"Did that feel good, baby?" he asks me coyly.
"So good," I moan happily. "Would you like me to return the favor?"
He shakes his head. "I'm aching to be inside you," he whispers.
"Then let me offer you some relief." I push him onto his back and climb on top of him. As I lower myself onto his throbbing prick, he reaches up and massages my breasts. I slide down onto him and then remain still for a moment as my pussy stretches to accommodate him.
"You're so tight, baby," he moans. "You feel so good."
I slowly begin moving my hips in wide, clockwise circles. I feel his cock hit every inch of me, and my juices start flowing again.
"You're so wet... god, Kiara, you're so perfect." He sits up and bends his knees. I lean back on his legs and plant my feet on the bed behind him. We hold each other tightly and rock together, slowly at first and then with more urgency. The position we're in puts constant pressure on my G-spot, and I know my second orgasm is imminent.
"I'm going to come again," I warn him.
"Come for me, baby," he whispers in my ear. He nibbles my earlobe and I grip his cock tightly with my internal muscles. We come together quietly with heavy breaths.
We remain locked together long after our orgasms subside. Paul stares lovingly into my eyes. "I've never felt this way before," he confesses.
"I feel the same way," I tell him. I feel a cramp in my thigh and I cringe.
"Are you all right?" he asks, his voice full of concern.
"Leg cramp," I explain.
He smiles back at me... we untangle our bodies and fall asleep in each other's arms.
***
I feel soft lips on my face and wake to find Paul lying next to me. His hair is wet, and he smells like soap and aftershave.
"How long have you been awake?" I ask as I stretch.
"About twenty minutes. Coffee is ready, when you want some."
"You should have woken me up before you took a shower. I'd have joined you." Paul's cleanliness emphasizes the fact that I still smell like a kitchen.
"Why don't you enjoy one on your own?" he suggests. "There's a boutique down the street. I can run out and grab you some fresh clothes."
"You'd do that for me?" I ask.
"Kiara, I'd do anything for you," he says.
"Then that sounds like a plan. But don't spend too much money," I insist.
"My robe is hanging on the bathroom door," he tells me. "If I'm not back by the time you get out, feel free to put it on... or don't," he adds with a seductive grin. He helps me off of the bed and we walk hand in hand down the hallway. I stop at the bathroom while he continues on.
Paul's entire apartment is sleek and modern. The shower is a walk-in, with beautiful glass-blocked walls. I turn on the hot water and step into the steam, careful not to let the water touch my skin. My muscles are sore and the steam helps them relax. After a few minutes, I add cold water to the hot and let the spray fall over my body. I am delighted as I survey the products on the shelf of the shower. Paul has three types of expensive, salon-brand shampoos but not one bottle of conditioner. I grab a bottle and wash my hair, knowing that I'm going to have a hard time brushing out the tangles.
I wonder if it's too soon for me to bring some stuff over. Conditioner, a curling iron... maybe some pajamas. Normally, I'd never consider moving stuff in to a man's home so soon, but I'm certain Paul is different. He's gone to buy me a new outfit. I don't think he'll freak out at the sight of my toothbrush.
The water begins to cool so I step out of the shower and dry myself with a fluffy towel. I eye Paul's Jacuzzi and decide that we definitely need to have some fun in it. As I wrap my hair in a towel, Paul's doorbell rings. I wrap myself in his bathrobe and step into the hallway. He must have forgotten his key, I think. I'm proved wrong when I hear the door open.
"Jenny?" I hear him say. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, Paul!" she cries. "I'm so sorry to bother you. I know it's early, but I didn't know where else to go. I just got off the phone with my parents, and they won't help me. They said I've disgraced the family, and they never want to see me again."
"It's okay," he assures her. "Come in and have a seat. Tell me what's happened. What could you have possibly done for your parents to say something like that?"
Part of me wants to join them and offer my friend comfort, but my instincts tell me that that would be a mistake. Instead, I move closer to the living room, but keep myself hidden from their sight.
"It's not something I did, Paul," she sobs. "It's something WE did..."
It's quiet for several moments and dread fills my body.
"You d
on't mean...?" Paul begins. "But we used protection, Jenny," he says softly.
"I know we did, but I'm knocked up anyway. I've been feeling rotten for the last couple of weeks, but I thought it was just the stress of the job. I haven't been sleeping well either. Last night, I realized my period was late, so I bought a test. I don't want this to be your problem, Paul... I know you're with Kiara, I know that I mean nothing to you..." The rest of her words are lost in her sobs.
"Jenny, I don't mean to sound insensitive, but are you sure the baby is mine?" Paul asks softly. My heart drops to my stomach when I hear the word 'baby'.
"I'm sure," she says, sobbing even louder.
"All right, all right," he says soothingly. "Just calm down. However you want to handle this, I'll help you," he tells her. "Kiara?" he calls out, startling me. "You can come out of the hallway. We all have a lot to talk about."
-To be continued in Book 2-
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" HOW LONG on the spot prawns, Chef Kiara?" Robbs asks me with mock reverence from across the kitchen. Two months have passed since I was awarded the apprentice position at Fission. Paul Weston stayed out of the decision. No one was able to outright accuse him of being biased and giving the job to his girlfriend, but the rumors are swirling. The rumors about how I landed my job are the least of my problems, though. Paul and Jenny's upcoming arrival is what really has everyone talking around here.
Every time I think of that fateful morning at Paul's appointment, I'm overwhelmed with the same sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. When Paul called me out of the hallway that morning, Jenny bawled and apologized over and over again. She even offered to get rid of the baby, but Paul and I were against it. Paul had immediately insisted an abortion wasn't an option. I agreed with him, but I still can't wrap my head around the idea that in roughly six months, my boyfriend will have a child with another woman. This wasn't supposed to happen, and I'm helpless to do anything about it.
Fifty Recipes For Disaster - Book 1 (Fifty Recipes For Disaster New Adult Romance Series, #1) Page 9