by Calista Fox
He chuckled good-naturedly. Surprise, surprise. “You’ll just be assisting. It’ll be fine.”
“But I’ll be in your way.” Was that a hint of panic in her voice?
Why, yes, it is.
Rory told her, “Christian is moving full-steam ahead with the new design for the show. Granted, it’s going to take some time to develop and there are various negotiations to partake in, including with you and your agent, but we can get this concept off the ground before the end of the year. And that means you and I need to find a harmonious rhythm while we’re doing cooking exhibitions so that I don’t mow you down while I’m moving about and end up—”
“Yelling at me?” She eyed him with a crooked brow.
He smirked. “I was going to say so that I don’t end up hurting you again. But that, too.”
The yelling part.
She would have been amused that they could lightly tease each other—pleased, even—except that behind this new levity between them was an underlying current that gnawed at Bayli.
She could be totally off base, but it didn’t feel that way in her gut, so she ventured to guess, “You weren’t just annoyed with me for being at the wrong place at the wrong time when you came barreling through those kitchen doors, right? You were irritated because you’d knocked me over. Even though, admittedly, it was all my fault for being in your way.”
Rory expertly wove through traffic, not glancing at her. But Bayli could see from the way his jaw worked that her assumption was right on the money.
When they finally stopped at a light, he slid his gaze her way. “I’m used to being surrounded by people who are lightning quick on their feet and bend and flex with the fast-paced environment. It’s not always smooth sailing, of course, and we go through our fair share of broken glasses and dishes. But yes … I was mostly pissed off because I’d likely left a bruise on that amazingly beautiful body of yours. And will be even more furious if it’s still there.”
The light turned green. Rory eased the car forward. Bayli continued to stare at him, her mind blank, her voice vanishing completely.
But the rest of her … Holy hell. Bayli’s heart thumped mightily in her chest. Excitement rippled through her stomach and down to the apex of her legs, making her clit tingle and her pussy throb.
Once more, she was breathless and filled with exhilaration.
Not that Rory St. James had come right out and said he wanted to see her naked and inspect that spot on her hip himself—or that he wanted her the way Christian had wanted her last night. Still … Rory’s tone had lowered a notch and was tinged with a mixture of lust and torment. An extremely sexy combination. One that did a number on her insides, igniting every nerve ending.
She’d contend that it was crazy or greedy or selfish to be attracted to two men at the same time. To eagerly want to get to know them in every way possible—undisputedly in the carnal sense. But even if she was all of those aforementioned things, it didn’t matter. Because this was yet another part of life Bayli had never lived to the fullest.
She’d had one boyfriend, her senior year of high school. Other than that, there’d never been time, or she hadn’t had the energy to date while taking care of her mother, or she was just too afraid to get attached to someone while watching someone else she cared for so deeply wither away before her very eyes—and there’d been absolutely nothing Bayli could do to improve her mother’s health so that she could have had just one more surgery that might have added a few more years to her existence.
But now was not the time to dwell on Bayli’s painful past. Now was the time for her to wrap her arms around the future and see just how far she could go.…
Finally getting a grip on her racing pulse—to an extent, anyway, because there was something powerful and alluring about the man sitting next to her that crawled under her skin and kept her body charged—she managed to say to Rory, “I haven’t checked of late, but I’m pretty sure that all evidence of our little run-in is long gone.”
“And Christian would have asked you about it if he’d noticed a mark.”
She gaped. Okay, way for Rory to get right to the point.
“Christian didn’t exactly do an inch-by-inch visual assessment,” she boldly said. Praying like hell her voice wouldn’t crack as she added, “He was a bit more singularly focused.”
“I know Christian well. Trust me. He didn’t miss a thing. Nor would I.” Rory flashed her a wicked grin.
Bayli all but incinerated in her seat.
Oh, boy.
She was playing with some serious fire here. Burning both ends of the wick. Or fuse. Take your pick. Either would be equally explosive in the end, she was sure.
Her fingers curled around the stack in her lap. Her inner muscles clenched and released in an attempt to stave off the thrumming deep in her core … or the craving still clawing at her, centered wholly around that incredible fulfillment she’d experienced the previous evening.
Yes, Christian had fucked her hard and she’d loved every second of it. Had been sated by how passionately he’d taken her. But in the light of day, and sitting in such close proximity to Rory, with his innuendoes clouding her judgement and the intoxicating scent of his expensive cologne and male heat infiltrating her mind and senses, she was right back to wanting—needing—another highly intense, fantastically arousing fuck.
Plain and simple.
She wouldn’t even be apologetic for the naughty thought. Or blush.
Maybe.
As she fought the warmth creeping up her neck and threatening to flood her face, Bayli dared to ask, “Christian told you we slept together?”
“Yes.” Rory stopped the car behind one that was pulling out of a space on Columbus Avenue and then expertly maneuvered into the tight spot and shut off the engine. He shifted in his seat and partially faced Bayli. “The verdict was that you’re phenomenal. But I’d already assumed that.”
He tossed off his seat belt and exited the car in a swift, stealthy move. While Bayli’s mind reeled and her nipples tightened.
Rory had to step over the slight vee of his bumper in order to get to the sidewalk and then he opened her door for her. Bayli’s fingers shook as she unlatched the belt. Rory took the books from her so she could climb out. He set them carefully on the seat and locked the car.
She searched her brain for something to say that would help to distract her from the zings ricocheting within her but came up empty-handed. Not a common occurrence, except when she was in the company of one of two extremely gorgeous, successful, and enigmatic men.
Rory’s fingers twined with hers and he tugged her along beside him. “You’re okay walking for a little while in those shoes?”
“Of course.” She wore four-inch navy-colored heels that matched her short skirt. A cream-colored blouse completed the ensemble. She’d pulled her long hair up in a high ponytail and added simple earrings and her bracelet. A small purse crossed her chest and rested at her hip.
“It’ll be a damn shame when autumn rolls around and you’ll have to cover up those sensational legs of yours,” he told her.
Bayli’s cheeks were going to be burning from grinning after this outing, she had no doubt. “Maybe Christian will choose tropical locales for our shoots.”
“I’m sure he’s already envisioning you in a string bikini.”
With a soft laugh, she said, “No one will take me seriously if I wear a string bikini during your cooking demos.”
“To hell with the demos. He’s thinking strictly off camera as much as I am.” He winked.
Bayli gazed up at him, her chest rising and falling much more quickly than normal. “Are you hitting on me, Chef St. James?”
He let out a mock groan. “Oh, so formal.”
“I thought you enjoyed being revered. Treated like a culinary god,” she jested.
“Naturally,” he shot back. Then he leaned in and whispered sexily in her ear, “Just be sure to call me Rory, or stud muffin, or something equally endearing w
hen I make you come … over and over.”
Bayli stumbled. Rory was quick to catch her and steady her so they could continue on to the white-tented vendor tables.
“Jesus,” she muttered. “You’re both a bit full-throttle.”
“That’s how we get what we want.”
It probably wasn’t wise to do so, but Bayli couldn’t stop herself from brazenly inquiring, “And do you two typically woo the same woman at the same time?”
His brow jumped. “Woo?” He let out a hearty laugh.
“Fine,” she huffed. “Flirt with, stare suggestively at, insinuate that you actually do possess the ability to make me come over and over?”
“Do you doubt it?”
“Hmm.” No.
Another guffaw that echoed down the busy street. No one even bothered to look their way. Until they joined the conglomeration of browsers and shoppers and Rory was instantly recognized.
Bayli rolled her eyes as the women fawned over Angsty Chef, as she now officially—albeit secretly—dubbed him. But Rory was a bit of a man’s man, too, and some of the guys on the street wanted grilling tips and his renowned recipe for chili.
Standing off to the side, letting Rory have his much-deserved moments in the sun, Bayli nibbled her lower lip. Partially to keep from smiling from ear to ear because she was the one he’d been holding hands with before he’d been spotted by fans and partially because she was stuck in tortuous suspense awaiting his answer to her question.
Jewel had once explained about the complication of her reunion with both Rogen and Vin when they’d all returned to River Cross after so many years of separation. Yet when all the cards had been laid on the table, she’d said it’d been a huge relief that each man knew she was attracted—as emotionally as she was physically—to him and that she was having sex with the other.
So nothing was shady, nothing needed to be hidden, nothing slipped that shouldn’t slip, and therefore feelings and egos were spared. As much as could be expected, at any rate. The guys had apparently thrown a few punches when Jewel’s back was turned, but really, that was just toe-curling romantic for a girl to learn about.
All in all, with everyone being up-front about their intentions and Jewel not lying about whether she’d been with one man or the other, it’d been much easier for the trio to begin building their relationship. Not that they hadn’t suffered setbacks, including with their families and some members of the exclusive California wine community, but Jewel swore that keeping everything aboveboard and in the open was the best way to manage the dynamic of a ménage à trois. Not just in the sexual connotation, but as a household as well.
No lie, Bayli found the entire arrangement intriguing. Scarlet did, too. And they’d never seen their lifelong friends so happy. Which was likely why Bayli wasn’t quite so timid about broaching the subject of currently being the object of both Christian’s and Rory’s desire.
Not that she had any delusions that she’d hold their interest. She did not take either man as being the type to settle down, not when their stars were burning so brightly and there were still many business ventures for them to spearhead and conquer. Bayli felt something similar.
What she was really experiencing at the moment was the rush of having caught both men’s attention and the fact that, with each of them, something new seemed to leap out at her around every bend. Bayli loved that. Thrived on the titillation of the unexpected, because it was a huge contrast to her past and easily inspired hope for what tomorrow might bring.
Hell, she had high hopes for what the next couple of hours with Rory St. James might bring!
He eventually worked his way free of the crowd, shaking his head slightly as he eyed her, as though he were exasperated by his adoring fans. But the glimmer in his dark-chocolate irises suggested otherwise. He was just good at keeping up his tough-guy image.
“Sorry about that,” he said.
“No worries at all.”
“They’ll be swarming you someday soon. And won’t even notice me.”
She beamed up at him and playfully said, “Here’s hoping.”
Rory snickered amiably.
From his back pocket, he whipped out a folded-up cloth tote, then took her hand again—which thrilled her endlessly—and said, “Let’s shop. Little Miss Catches Flies with Honey.”
She knew he was referring to himself as one of them.
EIGHT
Rory directed her from table to table, and Bayli carefully surveyed the offerings and either looked disgusted, shrugged nonchalantly, or nodded zealously. He quickly picked up on the nonverbal signals and deduced that she stuck mostly with the standard fare of vegetables, not too fond of cauliflower, turnips, oca, and the like. But zucchini, heirloom tomatoes, and carrots earned high marks, so he snatched a bit of each, along with some other accompaniments, as they worked their way down the tree-lined street.
“How often do you actually get to cook at home, Rory?”
“Not frequently. Just when friends are in town at the same time I am.”
“Lady friends?” she asked as she inspected a crown of broccoli and then handed it to him to add to their collection.
Rory wasn’t quite sure what the hell he was going to do with that—the broccoli. Given her other selections, he was headed in a specific direction, rather than a hodgepodge one. But seriously … he was going to deny her anything? Not a chance.
There were already some extremely unfamiliar and even a tad unsettling feelings centered around this woman that began taking root deep in his gut. Okay, a little higher than that. And lower. Something about her big, soulful eyes tugged at his heart. She wavered between flirty and lost in thought. Not always pleasant thoughts, he could tell. Sometimes she got mired in a murkiness that had nothing to do with whatever topic of conversation they were on or what was happening between them or around them.
And then there was the matter of his cock twitching at the mere sight of her. Threatening to stiffen when she laughed, smiled, gazed up at him. Fuck, it was worse while their fingers were entwined and, on occasion, her breasts brushed against his arm or chest.
The woman who had initially irritated him—for being in his way, for causing him to maim her, for not being the front-of-house hostess he needed—now easily ensnared him. She was beautiful, and sure, that held plenty of appeal for him. But his attraction to Bayli Styles went well beyond surface beauty. He couldn’t keep himself from watching her closely and trying to learn every facet of her personality, no matter their environment, whether they were engaging in witty banter or she was pushing his buttons. Honestly, he liked both. She was sweet and feisty. Hesitant at times, audacious at others. Never, ever boring.
Rory wasn’t quite sure what would come out of her mouth next. Didn’t know how she might react to anything he’d say or do—and that was exciting as hell. He wasn’t used to balancing on a tightrope with a woman, but this one had him jonesing for each thrilling second with her.
All of which made it difficult to answer her question. Because, yes, he did entertain “lady friends.” He was no saint. But not all of his female acquaintances were lovers. Many were colleagues. Professional chefs he hung out with during downtimes—few and far between, but he managed to fit in special get-togethers whenever possible.
Really, though … Rory knew what she was getting at. So he said, “I’m not currently sleeping with anyone.”
They checked out the mounds of various potatoes but bypassed the starch. Bayli mused, “And you don’t mind that I am? Well … it could’ve just been a onetime thing. I don’t really know if Christian is looking for anything beyond last night.”
Rory’s hand tenderly squeezed hers. “You want to know if I’m okay with you and Christian, when I want you just as much as he does?”
“Or did.” She halted abruptly and asked, “Is that true, though?”
Since there were people milling about, who certainly noted their presence, she obviously didn’t want to repeat what Rory had said verbatim. It was
n’t the most appropriate time and place for this discussion, but Rory didn’t want to leave her hanging any longer.
So he coaxed her to fall back into step with him and quietly said, “We do have work to focus on if we’re going to get this revamped show off the ground. But both Christian and I are interested in you in more than a professional capacity. Nor would he have mentioned to me how your evening ended if he was just looking to scratch an itch.”
“And what are you looking to do?”
Rory chuckled, though it was a bit strained. Like his cock against the zipper of his inky jeans. “Thought I’d already made that abundantly clear.”
“So I’m not misreading signals.”
He told her, “I saw how you reacted to me when we met. I felt the jolt, too. I continue to feel it. And goddamn, Bayli … You felt so fucking good when you fell into my arms at the library.”
A strangled sound lodged in her throat. “I’m supposed to concentrate now on … anything?”
“We’re almost done here. I need duck.” He greeted the butcher he normally called on for his personal meats, poultries, and fish, giving him a hearty handshake. “Meet Miss Bayli Styles. Bayli, this is Josgue, from Santiago, Chile.”
“It’s a pleasure, Josgue,” she said, nailing the correct enunciation, not “Jose” but “Ho-sway.”
The older gentleman whistled under his breath and told Rory, “She’s much too pretty for you, my friend.”
“Agreed. But I dragged her along for shopping and she’s humored me every step of the way.”
Bayli laughed. “Who’s humored who? You haven’t made a single mention of all the veggies I refuse to eat. Carrots, Rory? Really? You’ll be happy to serve carrots with your duck breast this evening?”
“Wait’ll we spruce ’em up,” he said.
Her smile brightened.
And Rory had the sudden overwhelming urge to kiss her. So he did.
Right there at the 79th Street Greenmarket. In front of God, fans, and Josgue the butcher.
Rory’s mouth sealed to hers. She was so caught off-guard that when she gasped Rory’s tongue swept inside to tangle with hers. It was a hot, intense, possessive kiss. A quick kiss. But when he pulled away he could see she was as stunned as he was by the electric current that had arced between them. Zapped all the interesting places that lit him up—her as well. He could see it in her eyes.