The Perfect Dish

by Kristen Painter

  Another few steps and the side of his leg touched hers.

  He reached up, tucked her hair behind her ears then lifted the helmet and eased it over her head. “How’s that feel?”

  She shook her head. The helmet twisted back and forth. “Should it be this loose? That can’t be good. Loose can’t be good.”

  “It’s my helmet. It’s gonna be big.” He ducked his head and fiddled with the chinstrap. “That’s as tight as I can get it.”

  The helmet muted the sounds of the city. She inhaled. It smelled like whatever he used on his hair. Sort of the outdoorsy scent of sheets dried in the sun. It suited him. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. “Now what?”

  He winked. “Hop on and hold on.”

  “Right now?” She swallowed. “This is a bad idea.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “‘Fraid putting your arms around me will be more than you can handle?”

  “No.” That hadn’t actually occurred to her. New tremors traveled down her spine and into her thighs. “I just don’t want my brains all over the street.”

  He knocked on the helmet, the dull thump-thump in rhythm with her rapidly beating heart. “This’ll keep the mess to a minimum.”

  “That’s reassuring.” She gathered up her courage, rested her hand on his shoulder for support and swung a leg over the seat. As soon as she settled into the seat, she realized nothing separated her crotch from his backside but a few layers of denim. Her temperature started to climb.

  “Put your arms around my waist,” he said over his shoulder.

  With as little grip as possible, she slid her arms beneath his elbows. She didn’t know what to do with her hands so she interlaced her fingers and tried to relax. Two seconds later she noticed she’d just made a little tent over his crotch. She jerked her hands up and felt his sides shaking. He was laughing at her.

  “Most girls wait until at least the second date to try that.”

  “This is not a date,” she ground out. It was just supposed to look like one. Not that anyone would recognize her with a helmet covering her head.

  “Yes ma’am, whatever you say.” He reached forward and started the bike. The machine beneath her roared like an angry beast. She squeezed her arms tighter around him. He shifted in the seat, pressing his backside further between her legs. He patted her hands, now safely positioned over his ribcage, checked the traffic and pulled out.

  Every muscle in her body tensed as the bike moved. She pressed herself against him, not caring how much they touched. The steady vibration of the engine overrode her apprehensive tremors.

  At the first stoplight, he rested a hand on her thigh and twisted to look at her. “You okay?”

  She nodded, trying to regulate her breathing at the same time.

  “You look about as okay as a treed ‘possum.” He gave her leg a little squeeze. “I promise you won’t get hurt. I’ve been riding bikes since I was nine. Haven’t had a serious wreck yet.”

  Yet! She nodded again. “I’m okay.”

  He turned back around, hooked his hands under her knees and pulled her a little closer. “Just a few more blocks.”

  When they started up again, she tried to relax. After all, they weren’t going that fast. The view from the motorcycle was so different from a car. Everything looked closer. She glanced down. Including the street. Don’t look down. She concentrated on the people on the sidewalk. Nice handbag. Cute dog. Bad toupee.

  She rested her helmeted head against his back. It was kind of nice, actually. The sun and the wind felt good on her skin and if she had to hold on to someone, Kelly wasn’t a bad choice. She smiled. If the girls could see her now.

  Kelly maneuvered the bike down a side street and into an alley. He parked beside a door and turned the machine off. “We’re here.”

  She took that as her cue to get off. Her legs shook even after she dismounted. He climbed off after her, then reached beneath her chin to unfasten the strap. She pulled the helmet off and shook her hair out.

  “So? You survived, right?” He took the helmet from her and clipped it back onto the bike.

  She made a show of feeling herself for broken bones. “Seems that way.” She gave him a half-grin. “I guess it wasn’t that bad.”

  “Told you.”

  Her skin tingled with the engine’s vibrations. “I feel like I’m still on the bike.”

  “Hard to shake the feeling of something that powerful between your legs, isn’t it?”

  She rolled her eyes. Lord, he thought he was funny.

  “You get used to it after while.” He hit a button on his key chain and the bike beeped. “Thanks. It was nice having you back there.”

  Her cheeks warmed and she twisted the sole of her shoe on the ground. What did you say to that?

  “Mery?”

  “Yes?” She looked up.

  He stuffed his keys in his pocket. “I really want to kiss you again.”

  The husky tone of his voice made her stomach flutter almost as much as his words. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “We’ll just agree to disagree then.” He took a step closer so there wasn’t a foot between them. “‘Cause I think it is.”

  She shook her head, ready to offer a new defense but he stepped into her space and laced his fingers into her hair just like he had that night in the elevator.

  “How ‘bout you decide afterwards?” He brought his mouth to hers, his touch at once gentle and insistent. He drank her in like a man dying of thirst.

  She leaned into him for support, her legs too shaky to hold her. A warm liquid need spread up from her toes as he deepened the kiss. She braced her hands against his hard chest as his tongue teased with subtle strokes, bringing her to life.

  Her head told her this should stop but her body thrummed with pleasure. Deep in her core, beneath the hurt of burying two husbands and the fear of letting another man in, she wanted this. She wanted to feel something that mattered again. To know that she was wanted.

  Kelly did that in spades.

  But her head prevailed. She broke the kiss and smiled gently, like she might at a child in need of correction. “We can’t keep doing that.”

  He dropped his hands from her hair. “Don’t you mean I can’t keep doing that? I’m kissing you, you aren’t kissing me.”

  She waved her hand. “You know what I mean.”

  His mouth twitched with a barely suppressed grin and he grabbed her hand. “C’mon, you’ve got some tasting to do.”

  Through the door they’d parked by, he led her into the kitchen. Several young men in black and white checked pants and chef coats bustled around carrying big lexan tubs of food. When Kelly walked in, they all greeted him with “Hi, Chef.” Kelly nodded and returned the greeting but didn’t stop. Through a second door and they were into another part of the kitchen. Kelly paused and spoke to a short woman with spiky red hair, also in kitchen attire. “Where’s JP?”

  “He’ll be right back, Chef. He just ran to the walk-in.” The woman glanced at their intertwined hands before going back to the sauce she was making.

  Aware of what their clenched hands must look like, Meredith pulled free. No need to give his employees any more to talk about than what they’d already seen. “Smells like a campfire in here. In a good way.”

  “It’s the smokers.” Kelly tipped his head toward another door. “The smell just sorta takes over.”

  A bald man in black-rimmed glasses came into the kitchen carrying two white tubs.

  “Chevré for the chicken special?” Kelly asked.

  The man nodded. “Yeah. It’s from that new supplier.”

  “JP, this is Dr. Meredith Black. She’s volunteered to be our guinea pig.”

  JP smiled. “Volunteered huh? I would’ve held out for at least minimum wage.” He held out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

  Meredith shook it and slanted a glance at Kelly. “Oh, he’s going to pay, he just doesn’t know it yet.”

  Chapter Seven

  JP
placed the last dish in front of Mery. “Amarillo Sunset cheesecake,” he announced. Kelly grinned as she took the first bite. Still not a word about a diet. There was something undeniably sexy about a woman with an appetite.

  She closed her eyes and sighed. “Amazing,” she mumbled around the mouthful. She swallowed and forked up another bite. “What is this again?”

  JP smiled. “Amarillo Sunset cheesecake.”

  She nodded. “But what’s in it?”

  “We poach dried apricots in a mix of brandy and agave syrup with a touch of honey. When they’re soft, we take them out, puree them, add them back in to the poaching liquid, then cook them down to the butter stage. Once cool, the apricot butter gets folded into the cream cheese mixture.”

  She took another bite. Kelly wondered if she was always this receptive to food. Women who ate nothing but salads and broiled, skinless chicken breast bored him to tears. Mery looked thoughtful as she downed the third bite. “There’s more to it than that, though, isn’t there?”

  JP glanced at Kelly. “She’s got a good palate.” He looked back at Mery and crossed his arms. “I can’t tell you the rest. That’s Chef’s secret.”

  “Oh really?” she asked, a note of teasing in her voice. “So if you tell me you have to kill me?”

  JP laughed. “Yeah, we stick you in the smoker and serve you as the blue plate special.”

  Kelly jabbed him in the shoulder. “JP, we haven’t smoked anyone since Jimmy Hoffa.”

  Mery smirked. “Aren’t you a little young to know who Jimmy Hoffa is?”

  “Ouch,” JP said.

  “Sorry,” Mery offered. “Just forget I said that. So you really can’t tell me what’s in this recipe?”

  Kelly ignored the Hoffa comment for the time being. “Nope, gotta sign a confidentiality agreement before I can divulge those sorts of things.”

  “Hah.” Mery took another bite. She closed her eyes and seemed to be in serious consideration. “Some sort of spice or combination of spices. Something else, too. Something very familiar.” She opened her eyes. “Anise maybe? Vanilla definitely.”

  JP held his hands up. “I got no comment.”

  Kelly grinned. “Not bad. We add cloves and anise to the poaching liquid. There’s Mexican vanilla in the cream cheese base.”

  She took one more small bite. “There’s something else you’re not telling me.”

  “What are you, in league with the devil?” He shook his head. She got sexier by the minute. “We use piloncillo as a sweetener in the crust.”

  “I don’t even know what that is,” she said.

  “It’s Mexican dark brown sugar. It has a really high molasses content, so that’s what you’re tasting.”

  JP threw his hands up in the air. “So much for the chef’s secret. What’s next, the combination to the safe?”

  “Don’t you have prep you could be doing?” Kelly asked, his gaze never leaving Mery. The sparkle in her eyes mesmerized him.

  “I guess that’s my cue.” JP gave Kelly a salute. “Aye, aye, Chef.” He waved at Mery. “Nice meeting you.”

  “Nice to meet you, too.”

  Once JP was gone, Kelly leaned forward across the bar. “How did you figure out what was in there?”

  Mery shrugged. “I worked at a bakery when I was in high school. Certain things stick with you. Besides, I didn’t really figure out what was in there, I just knew there was more than what JP was telling me.”

  “You’re very perceptive.” Kelly wondered if she had any idea about the persuasive powers of the chocolates he’d fed her.

  “I’m a psychologist, I get paid to be perceptive, to read people.”

  He came around the bar and sat beside her, twisting the bar stool so their knees touched. “So you think you have me figured out?”

  “You? You’re easy,” she said, scooting back in her seat.

  “Really.” He had a powerful urge to kiss the smugness off her pretty face. “Let’s hear it then. C’mon.”

  “Are you sure? Some people don’t like being analyzed.”

  “Stalling ‘cause you haven’t got a clue, huh? It’s okay, I understand.” He winked at her. “I’m a very complicated man.”

  She shook her head, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. “Actually, you’re not. You’re an over-achiever, first-born or I’ll give up my license. You thrive on attention and need large amounts of approval. There is some evidence of abandonment, possibly early on so it wouldn’t surprise me to find someone raised you other than your biological mother. Your grandmother, if I had to guess. And although whoever raised you did a good job, you still crave acceptance from those around you. You need people to like you. No matter what level of success you achieve, you never feel like it’s enough. And deep down...well, never mind. I think that’s enough.” She raised her brows and leveled a slight smirk at him. “How was that?”

  He sat there slightly numb, like someone had yanked the covers off him on a cold morning. How did she know all that? Maybe she’d talked to Shelby about more than just going to lunch. That had to be it. “I guess Shelby really gave you an earful, huh?”

  Mery shook her head. “Not really, we only spoke for a few minutes before you arrived.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “So you just figured that out from the couple times we talked?”

  “I told you, it’s what I do. Or did. Since I don’t see patients any more, I’m probably a little rusty.” She laughed a little, a nervous, uncomfortable sound. “Look, there are a lot of other clues to what makes a person tick. You just have to know to look for them.”

  “Like what?” he asked.

  “Sorry, chef’s secret,” she said, a Texas-sized grin on her face.

  He slid forward and laced his fingers through hers. Her skin was as soft as sifted flour. “C’mon, now. I told you what was in the cheesecake.”

  She pulled her hand up, so that their interlaced fingers were right in front of his eyes. “Here’s a perfect example. By touching me, you hope to gain my approval and sway me to your side. You want me to like you.”

  “Is that such a bad thing? That a man wants a beautiful woman to like him?” He drew her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over her knuckles.

  “You don’t quit, do you?” She groaned lightly and shook her head but the faintest tint of pink colored her cheeks. “Of course not, quitting isn’t in your make-up. You can’t help yourself.”

  “Not when you’re around,” he said, struck by the truth of his own words. This woman was driving him crazy. So what if she had him pegged. Was that such a bad thing?

  “So was I right?” she asked. “How close did I come with my assessment?”

  He let her hand slip from his and stood to go back behind the bar. “Close enough.”

  He refilled her glass with fresh ice water then made one for himself and took a long drink. Keeping his private life private had been a constant struggle, especially now with the book out and all the press he’d been getting. His deep need to protect his sister he understood. The need to protect his mother, he didn’t. You’re not protecting her, you’re protecting yourself and Shelby from her, he reminded himself.

  Mery looked at him expectantly. “Well? What did I get right? I’m curious.”

  “I’ll tell you on one condition,” he bargained.

  She toyed with the bar napkin, rolling the edge under her finger. “And that is?”

  “Have dinner with me tomorrow night. It’s the least you could do after that Hoffa comment.” He wanted to pat himself on the back for his own brilliance.

  “Since when does a chef have time for dinner?” She sipped her water. “Aren’t you the one cooking dinner?”

  “Not every night. I’m still in the restaurant but I’m not in the kitchen. Tuesdays I do paperwork, make table visits, stuff like that. I can make time for dinner, though. Swing by Sedona Tuesday night around seven and I’ll satisfy your curiosity.” Hopefully, he’d get to satisfy more than just her curiosity.

  She
tapped her finger on the bar. “That sounds suspiciously like a date.”

  He feigned innocence. “In a crowded restaurant?”

  “Isn’t that where most dinner dates take place?”

  “You got me there.” He grinned. “So Tuesday then?”

  “I guess. Yes.” Her eyes closed briefly as she blew out a breath. “Why do I have such a hard time saying no to you?”

  Arms resting on the bar, he leaned in until he was almost close enough to kiss her. “Are you telling me the great Dr. Black can’t figure herself out?”

  To her credit, she didn’t pull back. “Just around you. I seem to do and say and think things I wouldn’t normally.”

  He put his hands on the edges of her seat and moved a little closer. The scent of her, sweet and spicy, washed over him and he wondered if she wasn’t working some magic of her own.

  “Like now?” he murmured. “Are you thinking about what it would be like to kiss me again?”

  When she didn’t answer, he lifted a strand of her hair and twisted it around his finger. “Or maybe you’re thinking about the way our bodies fit together on the bike.” He held the strand to his nose and inhaled. “You smell like apricots and vanilla.”

  “It’s...it’s the cheesecake,” she stuttered, not quite meeting his gaze.

  The strand of hair fell from his hand as his fingers traced the line of her jaw, lifting her head. “I bet you taste like apricots and vanilla, too.”

  He tipped her chin further so he could see her eyes. He wanted her to kiss him but he wasn’t going to ask. If she kissed him because of the influence of the persuasion spell, it wouldn’t be as sweet as if she kissed him because she wanted to. And he wanted her to. He wanted her to need to.

  She blew out a soft breath and slipped off her barstool, out of his grasp. “You’re very charming, I’ll give you that but I should go. I have...work to do.”

  Her hands were shaking, he was sure of it. He slid off his seat and leaned against the bar, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little ole boy, Dr. Black.”