by Amanda Usen
He scrambled to remember his other excellent reasons for saying no and almost groaned with relief when one came to him. “I don’t have sex with my employees.”
“Don’t hire me, then.” She giggled. “I’ll help with your new menus, train Max to do the simpler desserts while you’re looking for someone long term, and work on the Vegas event. You give me a plan for Cooper’s, and I’ll be out of your hair in a couple of weeks.” He would be gone, too. Once the Beach House menu was set and the profits were firmly in the black, he’d turn it over to Max. So why did the thought of her leaving so soon bother him?
“After all, we’re just old friends hanging out together. Nobody is going to pay attention,” she coaxed, nibbling on his neck. “We’ll spend most of our time working. It will look perfectly normal. No one will notice.”
She made it sound so simple. It would be easy to give her what she wanted, especially since he wanted it, too. He’d never felt anything as strong as the crushing need hammering at his balls right now. He wanted to believe her more than he wanted to breathe, to eat, or even to take over Gallagher Holdings. But this is Jenna. Despite her bold words and actions, he just couldn’t think of her in terms of no-strings sex. Hadn’t she just admitted to having a crush on him? Crushes weren’t made of quick and dirty; they were made of romance and fantasies. What would she do if he called her bluff?
He knew what she would do if he kept saying no—she’d never quit. She was too used to getting her own way, and there was no doubt in his mind they’d find themselves in this exact situation as soon as she regrouped. How long would he be able to resist? Whether he liked it or not, things had changed between them. But as much as his body was screaming for relief, jumping straight into bed with her felt wrong. Jenna wasn’t a random hookup.
Her lips brushed his ear and coasted over his cheek. By the time she reached his mouth, he had an idea. She wanted to play games? Fine, but they were going to play by his rules. Maybe he couldn’t ignore the chemistry between them, but he could damn well take charge of it. Until he was certain she wanted more than a few kisses to satisfy her teenage fantasies, he wasn’t going to do anything except give her a good long time to think about her choices.
Playing games was his forte. He’d hold her hand and kiss her senseless, but that was it. He wasn’t going to jeopardize his relationship with her or her family because she’d gotten it into her head she wanted to sleep with him. After they spent some time together, she’d come to her senses and realize he was nothing like the fantasy guy she’d built him up to be.
He lifted her out of his lap and stood, pressing her against the door. With one hand, he caught her hair and tugged, pulling her head back. When her astonished gaze snapped to his, he bent to capture her lips, and her mouth opened in surprise. He plunged inside, taking possession of her in the way he had been dying to, honestly, no-holds-barred, proving he wanted her as much as she wanted him. It was ridiculous to pretend otherwise when he was hard as a rock.
He raised his head. “Let me get this straight. You want to have sex with me to get me out of your system? So you can go off and marry some guy to be your househusband without regrets, right?”
Her head fell back. “Stop torturing me, Roman.”
“I accept.” He stepped back, grinning. “But I have one condition.”
…
Anything was the first thing that popped into her head. That kiss had been every hot Hollywood clinch rolled into one mind-melting, thigh-shaking, panty-soaking miracle. And the smile on his face was fantasy-worthy, the stuff of wicked and wild dreams. Her heart pounded as he took her hand and caressed her fingers, bringing them up to his lips. His tongue tickled a sensitive spot in between her knuckles and a flash of heat shot through her. “What’s the catch?”
“We go at my pace.”
Unease stole through her. “You’ll have to forgive my confusion. I thought you were a player, but I keep striking out. What is your pace?”
“You asked me to be honest with you…so here goes.” His eyes darkened to cobalt. “I want you. Everything about you makes me crazy, your curls, your curves, your delicious desserts, even your inability to take no for an answer works for me on every level. You are impossible to resist, and I’m not going to pretend like I want to anymore. But I’m not convinced sex is what you want from me.”
She looked at his sun-streaked mop of golden hair. His sensuous lips and his fierce blue eyes. She took in the breadth of his shoulders and chest. His lean hips, strong thighs. “I’m pretty sure it is,” she said slowly.
“You have a crush on me.”
He made it a statement, not a question, but she nodded her head anyway. “Which is why I’m pretty sure—”
“Shh.” He touched a finger to her lips and it burned. “Crushes are made of fantasy and romance, not getting naked and going at it.”
She wanted to be offended by his summation of her emotional immaturity, but there was understanding and tenderness in his eyes, and this time it didn’t irritate her. “I’m not sixteen anymore, Ro. I want more.”
“You’ll get it. The full Roman Gallagher, playboy-of-the-West-Coast experience, I promise.” She cocked her head to the side at the self-deprecation in his tone, unable to read his expression.
He traced one finger down her cheek. “I know what you want, and as long as you let me call the shots, I’ll give it to you.” His hot gaze made a promise. Heat flickered between them, and her breath caught in her throat. She licked her lips. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and he leaned forward.
A pounding on the door made them both jump.
“How long does it take to sign on the dotted line?” Max called.
Roman ignored him. “Do we have a deal?”
She nodded.
“Good.” He smiled, and this time it wasn’t a fantasy. It was real, filling her with disbelief and glee.
He let go of her hand. “Let’s keep it quiet, though. Gallaghers don’t fool around with their employees, and I’d prefer no one know I’m making an exception.”
Max pounded again.
“Hang on,” Roman called, gathering papers from the desk. “Fill these out and get them back to me when you have time. You’re going to be working your butt off, so I’m definitely paying you.”
She took the tax forms and hugged them to her chest, not sure what to say. Thanks didn’t seem quite appropriate. “Uh…okay. Great.”
“Jenna Cooper at a loss for words. This is one for the record books. I’m going to enjoy this even more than I thought.”
She blinked, shaking off the odd trance that had come over her the minute he’d taken control. She could let him call the shots without being a doormat. “Can you give me a ballpark figure for this slow seduction, just so I can make sure my legs are shaved?”
He flashed a blinding grin. “There’s my girl. I thought I’d lost you.”
“No chance, pal. I’m in this to win it…or something like that. Are you going to answer my question?”
He shrugged. “Work before play. We’ve got a menu to rewrite, a Vegas dessert to plan, and Cooper’s to sort out.” He reached behind her and grabbed her braid. She felt a steady pull and her head fell back, baring her throat. “You’ll just have to be patient.”
The desire in his eyes was stark and heady. He bent his head, and she felt the wetness of his tongue then his sharp teeth against her neck. “Patience isn’t my strong suit, but I’ll give it my best shot.” Her voice was strained.
Max rattled the doorknob.
“Coming,” Roman called, staring down at her. He let go of her braid and winked. “Eventually.”
He unlocked the door and opened it for her. She struggled to keep her expression blank as she walked past Max, feeling his gaze burn into her back as he followed her back to the line.
“Seriously?” Max grumbled. “Nothing—not a word? That’s all I get for my pep talk?”
She concentrated on dropping butter and brown sugar into the mixer bowl, remembering R
oman’s second condition, but she couldn’t stop an enormous grin from spreading across her face.
Max chuckled. “I told you so.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” She turned on the mixer to drown out the sound of his laughter.
The rest of the shift passed in a blur. She made ice cream, cupcakes, cookies, and hot chocolate. She served jam cakes warm from the oven, and pitched in to help Max and T-Bird when they got an unexpected rush of walk-ins. Roman stayed in the office and worked on the menu, popping up to the line every so often to bounce ideas off them. Once, he even went into the dining room to talk to the waiters and the diners. He’d definitely taken her downscaling idea and run with it. It sounded like the menu was getting a complete overhaul.
At the end of service, she helped the guys close down the line, then went back to the office to say good night to Roman.
“How have you been getting around town?” he asked.
“Bus or taxi. I’m thinking about renting a car, though.”
“I’ll take you home.”
“Thanks.” The dynamic between them had changed. Instead of uncertainty, anticipation kept her on edge. She wanted to touch him, but she didn’t want to break her promise. Things between them would progress on his pace, whatever that was, and hopefully she wouldn’t die of frustration. Or kill him.
He was silent as he led her out the side door of the now empty restaurant, and he didn’t say a word as they walked down the street to his house. Just when she thought she might explode from the strain of following his lead, he took her hand. Her tension eased. His hands were rough and strong, palms broad, fingers callused. Her shoulder bumped his arm as they walked, and she could tell he was shortening his stride so she could keep pace with him.
When they reached his car, he let go of her hand to open the door. She hoped he would take it again when they were seated, and he did. Her entire body tingled as he played with her fingers, threading their hands together then unfolding them in a constant, lazy exploration that made her think of bodies rolling together and coming apart, winding and unwinding, until she could barely sit still. She wondered if he knew what he was doing to her. Glancing to the side, she decided he did. There was a decidedly smug tilt to his lips that made her want to best him at his own game.
He wanted to play hand-holding games? She could do that.
She shifted sideways so she could take his free hand in both of hers. She clasped their palms together and trailed her fingers over the back of his hand. She teased and tickled, satisfaction flowing through her at the liberty of touching him, as she wanted to. When she had learned the texture of every part of his hand and wrist, she explored the spaces in between his fingers, thumb rubbing the hollow of his palm, echoing the rhythm beating inside her. She pressed her fingers to his wrist, feeling his pulse.
He pulled to a stop in front of her house and slipped his hand from hers, breaking their connection. Instantly, she felt uncertain, disappointed her hand-holding skills hadn’t driven him to pull her into a clinch the moment he stopped the car. The locks released, and her thoughts flashed back to last night, when he’d all but booted her to the curb. His slight smile was gone, and he stared straight ahead.
She hated not knowing what to do, so she opened the door. “Thanks for the ride.”
She climbed out of the car, surprised when he joined her on the path up to the front door.
She got her keys out of her pocket. “See you tomorrow, I guess.”
The porch light illuminated his grin. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Nope.” She gave him an equally bright smile. Ball’s in your court, buddy. She was not going to founder right out of the gate. She was on her best behavior, and even if she felt like she might fly into a million pieces if he didn’t touch her, she was going to keep it together.
“Can’t forget a good-night kiss.” A serious expression settled over his face as he stepped closer. She swallowed, feeling time slow, stop, and then turn back. She felt longing well up in her center, an unbearable ache that took her back to their moment in the snow. Her breath caught. Her heart felt like it was expanding in her chest, and she wanted to stay here forever, breathing in time with him, feeling the heat of his skin, living in anticipation. Then every part of her rejoiced as their lips met, and she felt the same certainty she experienced when facing the ocean—anything was possible.
He stepped back.
She shook her head, feeling dazed. He chuckled, tucking an escaped curl behind her ear. “’Night, Goldilocks.”
“Good night,” she echoed, watching him walk down the path to his car.
Snapping out of it, she turned to unlock the door. She heard him start the car, but he didn’t pull away from the curb until she opened it. She sighed then giggled. Oh, man. Her heart was racing, her cheeks were hot, and she felt giddy. If it got better than this, the Roman Gallagher experience was going to ruin her, but she couldn’t care less. So worth it.
She walked down the hall to her room, imagining her feet floating six inches from the ground, which was possibly what he intended, and she couldn’t wait to see what he had in store for tomorrow.
Chapter Five
Jenna caught a bus to Venice Beach early the next morning, figuring she could explore the area until the Beach House opened. She wanted to get into the kitchen as early as possible to prep the dessert menu before the guys came in and took over the ovens. There was no way anyone would be working at six in the morning, but she had her laptop and there were a half dozen coffee shops in the area.
Most of the funky little shops that lined the street were closed, so she had to content herself with window-shopping. She paused outside an art gallery, admiring the bright red door and the roses trellised along the walkway. Further down, she saw tiny succulents sprouting in window boxes, and she spent a good ten minutes peering through the window of a batik shop.
Closer to the Boardwalk, the shops turned touristy, and she quickened her pace toward the Beach House. She was shocked to see the lights on. The side door was open, so she went inside.
Roman was pacing in the hall while placing an order on his cell phone. He nodded but didn’t say hello. Disappointment flashed through her. It was silly to expect him to pick up where they had left off last night, especially when they were at work, but a girl could dream. Time to wake up. Work before play…damn it. She set her toolbox on the counter, prepared to show Roman he wasn’t the only one with a work ethic, but the excitement that had kept her awake last night disappeared, leaving her feeling deflated. Her abrupt dip in mood forced her to acknowledge she hadn’t come in early to bake, she’d just wanted to see Roman again as soon as possible.
He ended his call and placed another, continuing to ignore her, so she busied herself getting her tools ready. She was going to need some coffee. She grabbed a pot, filled the basket, and hit the brew button. She yawned, so focused on the slowly filling pot it took her a second to realize her phone was buzzing in her pocket.
She fished it out and checked the display, surprised Lila was calling so early. Would Lila ask about Roman? She hoped not. Usually Jenna shared all details with her friend, but she was reluctant to explain Saturday night or anything about the deal she and Roman had struck in the office yesterday. “Hey, Lila. What’s up?”
“Can we wait for Betsy so I only have to say this once?” Lila’s voice was tense.
“Sure.”
After a beep, Betsy came on the line, and Lila sighed. “I slept with Jack.”
“Here we go again.” Jenna poured a cup of coffee before it was done brewing. She was relieved she wasn’t in the hot seat today. “Spill it.”
“And talk fast, I’ve got customers,” Betsy added.
Caffeine cleared her mind of cobwebs as Lila copped to spending the weekend naked with a man who had repeatedly tried to ruin her career, and Jenna remembered why getting involved with another chef was a bad idea. She watched Roman pace, barking orders into his cell phone.
>
“Was it worth it?” Betsy asked.
Before Lila could respond, Jenna answered for her. “Are you kidding me? It could never be worth it. He’s a chef, which makes him a bad risk, but even worse, he’s a Calabrese. That means you’ve got a guy who works all the time, stays out late, and drinks too much, crossed with a guy who has more money than sense, buys whatever he wants, and isn’t used to being denied. It’s a recipe for disaster, sister.”
Crap. How is what I’m doing with Roman any different? Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach, and sweat bloomed on her skin. Roman’s voice boomed down the hall, increasing her agitation. “I’ve got to go.”
“Who’s that, Jenna?” Betsy asked. “Are you indulging in a little disaster yourself?”
“It’s complicated. Good luck, Lila. Stay strong.” She hung up, feeling like a hypocrite. Maybe she needed a reality check, too.
She leaned against the counter, remembering her disappointment this morning. She’d wanted Roman to greet her with kisses when she came into the kitchen, but that wasn’t part of their bargain. She gulped her coffee, no longer needing the caffeine but wanting a familiar comfort as her heart fluttered with panic. They weren’t dating. They were friends who made out, and she needed to keep her head on straight. Viewing him through the rose-colored glasses of her crush would ruin everything.
She’d entered this agreement with her eyes wide open, and she wasn’t going to blow it. A few weeks of no-strings fun. Then she had to get back to Lambertville to fulfill her life long goal of running Cooper’s. A fling with Roman, then back to her real life.
She would uphold her part of the bargain, and Roman would keep his promises as well. She pulled out a sheet of paper and began making two lists: one of tasks to accomplish today and another of Vegas dessert ideas. If he was going to keep it professional at work then she could do the same.
Full steam ahead. Purely physical. Eyes on the prize.
Everything would be fine.