Chapter Seven
Three nights later, Jill had the kitchen humming. Pots were filled with an array of sauces, vegetables, and meats. In her element and in control, power pushed adrenaline through her body. As long as she could keep thoughts of Chet’s warm lips away and forget the feel of his hands caressing her skin.
Stop it! After their movie night she’d congratulated herself for keeping Chet in the boss/friend zone.
She tossed the fantasies from her mind. Ever since their latest kiss—hell, be honest with yourself, ever since the first—her thoughts had drifted to him at all hours, minutes, seconds of the day. To the point of insanity. Enough.
Jeez, he’s just a man. Okay, a super-hot, sexy man with lips made for kissing and fingers that pleased.
Shivers crossed her flesh from head to toe. She moved through the kitchen with quick steps, pinching the tender skin of her wrist to bring herself to focus.
The clock showed six, and guests were due to arrive in less than thirty minutes. So far, the timing for all the dinner courses was perfect. She stirred the mango sauce one last time, tapped the spoon on the edge of the saucepan, then leaned back with a sigh. The bubble glass on the counter filled with her favorite red wine caught her eye. Time for a quick break and a well-deserved treat.
Though she still didn’t know that much about Chet—his favorite foods, his passions, exactly what he did for a living besides being a businessman—she’d gained a new respect for him. She did know he woke early, stayed up late, and worked hard with a demanding schedule.
Tonight, one of the charities he worked with had five representatives coming to dinner. According to the schedule, it was a children’s hospital—something to do with radiology.
The buzzer on the stove let her know the chicken needed to be glazed. One last swallow of wine, then back to work. She opened the oven and the aroma filled the room. Jill brushed the last of the mango glaze over the roasting chicken just as Chet walked into the kitchen.
Could he get any sexier? Jill lost hold of the oven door and it banged shut. His head jerked in her direction, his concentration broken.
“Sorry.”
“I’m sure it’ll survive.” He grinned, and she tried to return one of her own, not sure if she succeeded. Her whole face had gone numb.
Damn, he was hot. His tanned, freshly shaven skin shined from his recent shower. Dark hair slicked over his head, drawing focus to his deep-set eyes. His pressed jacket accented his broad shoulders, the muscles beneath working as he tugged at his sleeves. The dinner at Chet’s home was black tie, at the request of the head of radiology’s wife. Formal dresses for the two women attending and tuxedos for the men.
Jill wiped her hands down the full-body apron tied loosely over her vintage black and white houndstooth halter dress. Talk about self-conscious, she felt like an underdressed teen at her first formal. Of course the apron didn’t help. At least she wasn’t required to sit down and eat with Chet’s guests. She’d have to start downing peppermint tea and sucking on candies now if she wanted to keep her nervous stomach under control.
The last time she’d been this close to a man dressed in a tux had been her second forced exit in a matter of months. Her elbow had been gripped by the fierce chef de cuisine on her way out the back door of La Elegance. The man in the tux had been the maître d’ sneaking a smoke in the back alley.
“You look…great.” Not that he needed confirmation, but she couldn’t resist saying the words aloud.
“Thanks.”
Their eyes met. Warmth permeated her skin as he inspected her. She turned away to lower the flame underneath the soup while the flame in her belly grew in intensity.
“How are you settling in?” His gravelly voice lent an air of intimacy to the room, sending her pulse into overdrive.
“Great. I feel a bit guilty. Like I’m on a mini vacation.” Breathless, she wished their conversation would end, or the guests would arrive, or something would burn to divert her attention.
“How’s that?”
“Well…um…cooking doesn’t fill my whole day. Not that I’m complaining.” She chuckled. The heat that crept over her face had nothing to do with the stove’s temperature. “I’m already forming a pool habit after lunch, followed by a visit to the sauna.”
“Good. At least someone gets use of them.”
“I’m not sure why, but I’m a bit nervous.” Unable to face the stove indefinitely, fidgeting with buttons and knobs, she turned toward him. Mistake. He stood leaning against the counter, arms folded, and his bone-melting smile in place. The white of his cuffs showed off his long, dark fingers. Shivers skidded across her flesh as she recalled how those fingers had cradled her head when they’d kissed.
“No reason to be. As usual, it smells wonderful in here. The dishes I’ve tasted have been out of this world. You’re very talented.”
“Thank you. I’ve just never cooked for such a select group before. It’s almost like it’s more important than cooking for hundreds of diners.” With nervous fingers, she erased invisible wrinkles on her apron. “Of course, I better get used to it if I’m going to run my own catering business.”
“That intimate flare.” He waggled his eyebrows.
She chuckled, tension falling off her back in layers.
“No fears, this is a very lax group,” he said.
“You wouldn’t guess it by the way you’re dressed.”
“Ah, get a society woman involved and everyone’s dressed to the nines. As a matter of fact, I was going to ask if you wanted to join us for dinner. It’d give you a chance to mingle. You’d be better engrained in their memories if they could match your face with your skills. You know, for future jobs.”
She untied the loose belt of her apron, only to refasten it with a tight tug around her hips. “Thanks, but no.” She wasn’t prepared to make small talk with a group of highly educated men and women. “I’m not dressed for it; besides I’m just a cook.”
“You look wonderful.”
For an instant his compliment whisked a ribbon of heat through her veins, but she quickly came to her senses. What a liar. Her outfit in no way compared to how she expected his guests would look.
“And you’re not just a cook, you’re a chef.” He kissed the tips of his fingers in an exuberant fashion, pulling them from his lips in a large arc.
“Okay, I have the culinary skills, but the school in New York didn’t go over table manners and etiquette unless you were serving.”
“Don’t tell me I’ve discovered something where the infallible Jill Adgate lacks confidence?”
Damn, either the temperature in the kitchen had increased times ten, or the attraction level she kept trying to squash had jumped into the triple digits.
“I admit nothing.”
“Jill, we’re all average people.”
“Not from where I’m standing.”
“You have no problem holding a conversation.”
Yeah, only when it’s between two, as in me and you. Instead she said, “Only about mundane issues. Nothing scientific like what you’ll be discussing with a room full of radiologists or whatever they are.”
He laughed. “Hate to disappoint you, but we probably won’t discuss business until after dinner. Over coffee on the back deck. Dinner talk usually is mundane issues.” He winked, then rubbed his temples in deliberate circles, eyelids growing heavy as if in a trance. “And according to my psychic abilities, I think talk will turn to your delicious foods.”
When he mentioned psychic, he opened his eyes and they shared another secret smile. Her belly spun. She’d get addicted to those bonding smiles if she didn’t watch herself.
Living with someone created a whole new sense of intimacy she hadn’t expected. Part of her liked it, and the other part feared it. Getting caught up in unrealistic thoughts about getting down and dirty with Chet—her boss—wouldn’t do.
“How did you end up schooling in New York? We have some great culinary schools right here in Mic
higan.” He stood before the side door, adjusting his tie in the panes of glass that acted as a faux mirror.
“Scholarship. I went where the money was being given.” She busied herself by grabbing an oven mitt so she wasn’t spellbound by watching his hands—his strong, capable hands—work the material of his collar around his tie. She opened the broiler.
“Hmmm, we have a lot in common.”
“Yeah, how’s that?”
“I made my school choice based on the same reason.”
Her task of turning the roasted vegetables in the broiler ceased. “You needed a scholarship?” How could someone this rich need a scholarship? Better yet, how’d they qualify to receive one? She closed the broiler and turned to face him.
“I worked my way through college, applied for every scholarship I could, won some, lost others.”
“You mean you didn’t…” It’s not like she could ask him if he’d always been filthy, stinking rich. Could she? Yes, she was blunt, but that seemed to cross the line.
“—always have money?”
Okay, now he finished her sentences. So not good. “I just assumed.” At least it explained his earlier remark about the cars he’d driven in college.
“You know what they say about assuming.”
She laughed, outright. Great, now he could put her at ease and make her laugh. Except when he was being sexy—which seemed to be the norm—her comfort level around him was something she’d never felt with anyone else. Well, she was at ease with Mel and her family. But Chet was a stranger, or at least he used to be up until a few days ago.
“My family owns Castle Engineering, started by my great-grandfather. When my dad inherited the company, it was fighting to stay afloat because he’d allowed a couple of partners into the fold. By the time I took control it was on the verge of closing.”
“You’re kidding?”
“No. Those two partners cared more about investing in bad business deals with Castle’s capital than moving our company into the twenty-first century. I bought them out and brought the business back to life. It’s now bigger than ever.”
She’d known he’d brought the business back into the black, but she hadn’t realized they’d been so far in the red that they were on the verge of closing.
“I Googled Castle Engineering. The man, the business, and the future.” She chuckled, a sudden wave of nerves rolling through her.
An arched eyebrow shot up. “And?”
Jill leaned against the stove with one hip, stirred the soup that would begin tonight’s three courses, and tried to appear nonchalant. “From what I read, you were the driving force behind some X-ray gadget thingamajiggy.”
Do I sound as dorky as I feel? Jeez, she should wire her mouth shut. She tapped the spoon on the pan’s edge, harder than she’d intended, sending splatters across the front of her apron and the stove top.
“Blame it on Grandma. When my mom’s mother became ill, she had to undergo several tests. A lot of the exams involved X-rays. It concerned me that she might be getting too much radiation.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks. But she’s still kicking and enjoying her days at the senior center. As a matter of fact, she was the one last year celebrating her eightieth.” He grabbed the bar towel she’d flung over her shoulder and dabbed her cheek. “You have a spot.”
Her body quivered at his touch, and she tilted her head back as if inviting his lips. His breath fanned her face, and she twisted to the side, disgusted with her own weakness.
“I’m glad your grandmother is…” Her voice became a husky whisper. The force of her desire overwhelmed her. Oh my God, I need therapy.
She pulled the towel from his hand, wiping up the mess on the stove.
“Anyway, at the time I was anxious. Another engineer took me out for a few beers and we got to talking about radiation levels and how it’d be a benefit to patients and doctors if they could regulate the amounts being taken in.”
“So over a few beers you had an epiphany?”
He shot her a lopsided grin, and she butted her knees together so she could remain upright. Incredible that listening to him talk about work turned her on. Maybe it was the excitement in the sparkle of his eyes. Or the gravelly sound of his voice.
“We came up with an idea for a receptor that can be added to a digital X-ray machine. Took a few years to get the prototype and the actual project approved, but we did it. This device is more sensitive and will adjust the amounts of radiation used to make an image, so patients have less exposure.”
She moved to throw the soiled towel in the sink, and to get away from his intoxicating nearness. “So that explains why all the hospitals clamor for your company.”
“At this point I’m practically an honorary doctor.” He winked again, and her heart fluttered.
Jill chuckled. Her vegetables would match her squishy insides if she didn’t pay closer attention to her job instead of this man. From where she stood, his lopsided smiles and winks appeared flirtatious. And she kind of liked it. Well…more than kind of.
“I read that you’re working on more medical gizmos?” She pulled the broiler door open and placed the vegetables on a serving plate.
“I didn’t intend to work exclusively in medical, I just wanted to help my grandmother. But I’ve found I enjoy it. Right now we’re developing equipment that can be scaled down in size to use with children. Make things smaller, more refined, and delicate to fit a child’s body so that it’s not so intimidating for them to be in a room with a huge piece of equipment looming over them.”
Oh God, he probably climbed trees to save cats, too. Let’s see, attractive, funny, smart, worried about kids, and loves his grandmother. “You’re incredible.”
He laughed, the delicious sound rolling over her skin. “It’s not like I do it alone. It’s a team effort.”
She needed to break their connection or she would drown in his intent, smoldering eyes. Turning to pull some serving plates from the cupboard, she could feel the warmth of his eyes along her back. The knowledge that he studied her put a swing into her hips as she walked to the oven to remove the chicken.
Ugh, maybe Mel was right. I need to get laid. But at the moment there was only one man to fill the bill, and he was the one she should be avoiding if she didn’t want to lose her job again—not to mention what little was left of her rep.
The doorbell rang, washing the tension from the room. She glanced at the clock. Punctual guests.
Chet moved toward the arch, stopping before he made his way to the foyer. His aftershave wafted around her, the subtleness overpowering the food aromas filling the kitchen. “If you change your mind about dinner, throw an extra place setting on the table.”
“Thanks. I will.” She smiled. Not a chance. Danger, Will Robinson, danger. Keep as far away from this man as possible. His hotness would be the death of her.
Chapter Eight
“Grab a jacket. We’re taking the night off.” Chet’s smile spread wide as he burst through the door after work two nights later.
Jill caught her breath, the knife in her hand stopped mid chop against the edge of an onion. “What are you talking about?”
Chet grabbed her light jacket that hung inside the closet by the garage entrance and held it out toward her, shaking it slightly so that she’d step it up. “Come on, let’s go. I’m starving.”
“But dinner is almost done.” Even as she said the words, she put the knife down and let him slip her coat up over her arms. He pulled it securely around her shoulders and turned her toward the door.
“You’re not getting out of it. Tonight we’re both going to relax and enjoy a night out. I deserve a break, and you deserve to eat something you haven’t had to prepare.”
“Really? I mean, I’m making Cobb salad. Nothing fancy. We can easily eat in.” Jill loved the fact that he wanted to give her a night off by taking her out, but she didn’t want to cross the boss-employee line. Could they go out as just friends?
&
nbsp; “Come on, Jill, I know what you’re thinking.”
“Oh, really?” She halted their trek to turn toward him. No way could he guess her thoughts.
“You think you shouldn’t eat out with me because you’re just the cook.” He challenged her by placing his hands on his hips, lifting one perfect brow.
Jill sighed, and then laughed. “Not exactly, but close enough.”
“Come on. It’s nothing fancy. I’m feeling like a big, sloppy burger from The Burger Bar. You in?”
Less than an hour later Jill sat in a booth across from Chet beneath a dimly lit pendant light. The swirled red and white of the glass emitted tiny patterns that danced along the surface of their wooden table. The restaurant’s décor was intimate casual. Cozy wooden booths with red vinyl seats lined the wall around the entire establishment, and round tables with red and white checkered tablecloths filled the center of the room. Jill rolled her shoulders in an effort to relax.
“I can’t believe you’ve never eaten here.” Chet grabbed two menus from the iron rack against the wall of their booth and slid one toward her. “They make the best burgers.”
Jill opened her menu, scanning the various burgers offered. “Burgers are easy, Chet. I make my own.”
He rolled his eyes. “Not tonight. Tonight you experiment with something you’ve probably never thought about cooking. You’re going to let someone else take over in the kitchen and have some fun and relax.”
She grinned. “What do you recommend?”
“I’m partial to the Juicy Lucy, or if I’m in need of something sweet you can’t beat the Luther burger.”
Jill ran her finger the length of the menu until she found the Luther burger. “You’re kidding me? A burger made with a grilled glazed donut in place of the bun. Ick.”
Chet chuckled. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”
The thought of it made her stomach sour. “I’ll stick to my original cheeseburger with tomato, lettuce, onion, and mayo.” She folded her menu shut.
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