Seducing the Playboy (A Hot Nights Series Book) (Entangled Brazen)

by Amanda Usen

  …

  “We’re dead in the water, Chef.” The Beach House manager rarely traipsed back to the office on her clunky heels, preferring to drag him into the dining room where she could show him off. “Sparse reservations on the books this week. We’ve had more walk-ins than usual lately, but just as many people walk out when they get a look at our menu.”

  “I’ve got a plan, Linda.” He hit print and looked up from the computer screen. “We’re going to close for three days while we do some redecorating. We’ll reopen on Thursday for lunch and dinner with a new menu, no dress code, and a huge beach party this weekend. How’s that sound?”

  “Three days?” Her double chin and dyed-black feathered hair made her look like a pelican, and standing with her mouth gaping increased the resemblance.

  He held up a hand. “Scout’s honor.”

  “As if you were ever a Boy Scout.”

  “Just for that, you’re in charge of the interior decorator. I’ve worked with him before, so I don’t expect any problems. Tell all the workers meals are on the house. We need guinea pigs for the new menu. And don’t forget to cancel reservations today through Wednesday and offer comps for when we reopen.”

  “Dare I ask what we’ll be serving?”

  He handed her a sheet of paper, fresh from the printer. “Burgers and beer, baby. Venice Beach style.”

  He watched her read, dark eyes pausing occasionally, and wondered what had caught her interest. The Muscle Beach Burger? The Teeny Bikini Sliders? Rasta Pasta? Boardwalk Bomber? All served with sea-salted Pacific fries, of course.

  She gave him a big smile and pulled his head down for a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek. Paper crinkled next to his ear, and he narrowly avoided a paper cut.

  “You’re a genius.” She thrust the menu into his hand and headed back to the dining room before he could tell her it wasn’t his idea.

  He followed her as far as the line, then stopped to smile at Jenna, who was making cookies. “Sorry for not saying hello earlier. I wrote a new menu last night, and I had to source a few ingredients.”

  “At six in the morning?”

  “It was nine in New York, and I want everything delivered by Wednesday. Why were you in so early?”

  “I wanted the ovens all to myself.” She turned her back to wash her hands at the sink.

  “Makes sense. In fact, you can work in the mornings all the time if you’d like to have the ovens to yourself. I’m usually here by eight.”

  “Do you stay through dinner service, too?”

  “Not unless it’s the weekend or we’re really busy. I usually cut out after the first turn.”

  She nodded. “Of course. It would be difficult to keep up with your demanding social commitments if you worked all night.”

  Her hair was in two braids today, and he tugged one in response to her snarky tone. For a second he wanted to confess his party boy image was calculated for publicity, but she already thought he was shallow enough. “A man of my social stature has responsibilities. Work hard, play harder. It’s a curse.”

  She nodded and began scooping cookies onto the tray.

  He watched her for a moment, noticing her cookie dough looked nothing like his and feeling a little put out that she was so focused on work, even though that was ridiculous. He edged closer, surreptitiously trying to catch a whiff of her sweet scent, following the same instinct that had made him follow her to her porch last night and kiss her. Since when did the Pippi Longstocking look give him a hard-on?

  “Ro?”

  He stopped, feeling as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  “I’m on my best behavior, but you’ve been ignoring me all morning. I assumed it was because we’re at work, but now you’ve got ‘up to no good’ written all over your face, and we both know I’m weak. I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind and want to sneak back to the office for a quickie?”

  She looked so hopeful, he laughed. “Quickies aren’t really my style…but I’d love to hear what you think of the new menu.” He handed it to her. “As for ignoring you, I get tunnel vision when I start a new project. Forgive me?”

  “I suppose.” Her long-suffering sigh made him laugh.

  She turned her attention to the menu, and he tried not to be nervous.

  She smirked as she handed it back to him a few minutes later. “Stubborn but not stupid.”

  “Thanks,” he said wryly. “Do you have any suggestions? Additions or subtractions? Did I miss anything?”

  She frowned, and his heart plummeted. “Well, you could probably drop a Venice Beach souvenir on the table with the check, but other than that…”

  He mock glared as she continued “…it sounds fantastic. The descriptions are clever and funny. The food sounds amazing. I could totally go for that burger with the barbecued bacon, heirloom tomato jam, and Cabot cheddar right now. I’m starving.”

  It was his favorite item on the menu, straight-up Americana. Suddenly, he wanted to show off a little…and maybe get her out of the kitchen. “Your wish is my command. Two Muscle Beach Burgers, coming right up. Should we get those on skates?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

  “I’m hungry, too. We can eat on the beach and have a picnic.”

  “I thought you had to work.”

  He caught her arm as she moved past him. “I changed my mind. C’mon Goldilocks, play hooky for an hour. We’re closed until Thursday anyway.”

  “Says who? I spent all morning making desserts.”

  “Says me. I’m the boss, remember? You have to do what I say, and I say we’re having a picnic on the beach.”

  He didn’t realize he was leaning forward until she stopped him with a hand on his chest. “For a guy who claims sexual harassment isn’t his style, you’re pretty good at it.”

  “Are you going to complain?”

  “Only if you stop.” She brushed against him, deliberately he assumed, as she headed for the cooler. “I’ll freeze the desserts. Let me know when our burgers are ready to roll.

  …

  “Food coma.” Jenna swallowed the last bite of her burger and collapsed backward onto the blanket. They’d hiked far enough down the beach to get away from the crowd and staked their claim on a secluded spot behind an outcropping of rocks. It felt like they had the ocean to themselves. Roman had packed a feast into a bus tub, burgers, fries, root beer, and thick shakes made from her freshly churned ice cream. She was stuffed, and the light ocean breeze would make a perfect blanket for a nap. Perhaps she had been a bit too harsh in her condemnation of chefs to Lila earlier. The meals were a definite perk.

  She closed her eyes and stretched out. Next to her, she could hear Roman packing the trash into the tub. Then he settled beside her. His fingers brushed hers, starting a chain reaction of tingles that began in her center and moved outward. It was crazy that such a simple touch could affect her so dramatically, but Roman had always done it for her. She opened her eyes and glanced to the side. His blue eyes were pale in the sun, ringed by a darker blue. His lashes glinted, and she got a wild urge to nibble them.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked. “You have the strangest expression on your face.”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  He turned to face her. “Tell me.” When she shook her head, he caught her other hand and pulled her onto her side, so that they were lying face-to-face, separated only by inches. The urge got stronger.

  She smiled. “How about I show you instead? It’s G-rated but kind of weird.”

  At his nod, she leaned forward. “Close your eyes.” She brushed her lips over his eyelashes then gently nibbled them. Instant gratification was a beautiful thing. It was heaven to be able to satisfy her whim. She stroked his cheek, pressing a kiss to the rough surface, hoping he’d let her satisfy her other urges soon. No time like the present. He looked so peaceful lying there with his eyes shut, she couldn’t resist.

  She rolled on top of him.

  His eyes
blinked open. “You just lost your G-rating.”

  “There aren’t any kids on the beach.” Only a few sun worshippers and a couple of surfers nearly out of sight. “I think a logical progression from a good-night kiss would be a hot and heavy make-out session.”

  She bent to nibble on his upper lip, teasing him with quick touches of her tongue. His lips were familiar and new at the same time, and she explored them, opening his mouth with hers. He groaned, and the sound resonated deep within her. She had him exactly where she wanted him, and it was bliss.

  Abruptly, he flipped her, his hips pressing her heavily into the sand as his tongue invaded her mouth. He thrust against her, and she parted her legs and bent her knees, arching up to meet him. His back was bowed, connecting them at mouth and groin, and she wrapped her arms around him, trying to connect them everywhere else. Her body heated up so fast, she thought she’d melt into the sand as their mouths and bodies moved together in an urgent dance.

  She held him tighter, feeling like she might come apart just from this, but he slid to the side, breaking her hold. She missed his weight on top of her, but she wasn’t picky. She moved to straddle him, but he stopped her with a hand on her hip. “Keep it PG or I’m going to forget my good intentions.”

  “Your completely unnecessary, highly annoying, absolutely ridiculous good intentions? God forbid.” She tried not to pant as she rolled onto her back, away from him.

  “You’re so cute when you don’t get what you want. Hasn’t anyone ever told you no before? Or does everyone do what you want because you’re so beautiful and determined?” He propped his head up on one arm and gazed down at her. She wanted to stay mad but it was impossible when he leaned down to kiss her again. This kiss was as different from the sudden take-no-prisoners onslaught that had just occurred as red pepper flakes were from sugar. It was slow and sweet. He left no corner of her mouth unexplored and by the time he was done, they were breathing in sync, moving together, and she was fairly certain their hearts were beating in the same steady rhythm.

  “Isn’t this fun?” His whisper was a deep growl as he plundered the sensitive skin behind her ear. “In a torturous, frustrating retro kind of way? All action above the neck…dry humping allowed as long as we pretend it isn’t happening. Kind of like high school.” He stroked his hand down her leg, easing it away from his hip.

  “I hated high school.” She arched her neck, inviting him to make good on his damn rules, and he complied. As he kissed her neck, she had to admit none of her boyfriends in high school, or college even, had been able to make her respond like this with a simple kiss. Roman knew what he was doing. His lips and tongue were soft and wet, leaving cool trails on her skin. Every so often he would nip her throat, and she would gasp, going liquid, melting again, and pressing closer to him.

  His hard body and roving hands gave every sign he was as desperate for her as she was for him. Yet he kept himself in check, only going so far, and his slow exploration was exhilarating. It was one thing to indulge in a one-night stand, easily blamed on the heat of the moment. This deliberate intensity was something else entirely. Don’t go there.

  He pressed a soft, close-mouthed kiss against her lips and sighed, stretching out on his back and pulling her to rest beside him with her head pillowed on his shoulder. “The beach is nearly empty, but let’s not get carried away.”

  “Let me guess,” she asked, lazily running her hand up his chest. “Now we pretend to nap when really neither one of us is sleeping because we’re so insanely horny?”

  He laughed. “I thought we could talk about Cooper’s.”

  Apprehension zinged through her. The Beach House, Vegas, and sexual frustration had pushed Cooper’s from her mind. She didn’t have a single good idea. What if the guru of West Coast restaurant-flipping told her it was a lost cause…or worse, patronized her? She raised her head to look down at him. “I haven’t been hit by a lightning bolt of inspiration yet, and I hate to waste your time when you have so much to do today,” she hedged.

  “Brainstorming makes lightning bolts, and there’s no time like the present. I’m in a holding pattern until Max gets in. I want to talk to him about the menu, the best way to break it down, purveyors, prep list, and all that jazz, but for the next hour, I’m all yours. Tell me everything.”

  She said nothing.

  As the silence grew, his body tensed. “Unless there are no problems at Cooper’s. Please tell me this isn’t an elaborate charade to get me into bed.”

  “God, no. How could you think that?” She scrambled into a sitting position, putting space between them.

  He sat up, facing her, and shrugged. “You showed up on the beach and took off your clothes. You won’t let me call Cole to confirm. You ambushed me in my office…” His voice was flat. “If you turned half of that determination toward fixing Cooper’s, I bet you’d be in the black in a month.”

  She glared at him, speechless. If it were that easy, she wouldn’t be here at all.

  Or would she?

  “No,” she said, ignoring the uncomfortable path her thoughts had taken. “I need your help.” She’d rather have him laugh at her ideas than think she’d been dishonest with him again, so she forced herself to start talking. Haltingly, she explained the slow decline in business over the past two years and how much things had changed while she was at culinary school. Her parents were older now, less willing to adapt to the times and their customers were even more so. Every menu update she’d suggested had bombed. While newer restaurants flourished around them, Cooper’s profits went down every month, and her parents wanted to sell, or at least her mother did.

  “You’re sure you want to work at Cooper’s? Maybe your parents are right.”

  She growled in frustration. “If I hear that one more time, I’m going to go ballistic. I had to go to culinary school before they’d even let me in the kitchen, and now they want to sell before I can figure out how to make things work. There’s nothing I can do about being the baby of the family, but I’m sick of being treated like I can’t help.”

  “Wait…why wouldn’t they let you in the kitchen?”

  She gave him a look. “Because cooking is a miserable occupation for anyone who wants to have a life?”

  He laughed. “I can’t argue with that logic. Only an idiot would want to work as much as we do. I guess we’re both idiots.” He stood and held out his hand. She took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. “In fact, I’m a glutton for punishment because as soon as my mother closes this resort deal, I’ll take over Gallagher Holdings, and she’ll relax for once in her life.”

  “Opening a resort doesn’t sound relaxing to me.”

  “It would if you knew her.” His expression was tight. “I don’t think she’ll ever stop working, not completely, but it would be nice for her to settle down and let me take care of the restaurants. My father”—he stressed the word, making it clear he didn’t consider the man such—“abandoned her as soon as she told him she was pregnant. We didn’t have anybody else, and she worked like hell to take care of me. I want to return the favor.” His eyes blazed with emotion.

  She bent to pick up the blanket, shaking sand from it. “She’s lucky to have you.”

  He snorted. “Not when I show up half-naked all over the Internet when I’m supposed to be keeping a low profile and making her look good to a prospective investor.”

  “Not your fault. I stripped first.”

  He chuckled and continued, “Start brainstorming for Cooper’s the way you did for the Beach House. Strengths. Weaknesses. Wild ideas. Find your niche and dig deeper.”

  She draped the blanket over her arm and followed him up the beach. “Easy for you to say.”

  He laughed. “We’ll talk more about Cooper’s soon. Meanwhile, got any ideas for Vegas?”

  “Max suggested strippers popping out of giant cupcakes and a happy ending for every table.”

  Roman frowned. “He’s pretty much on target, although our diners are shelling out a who
le lot more than a handful of dollar bills. We’ll be working in an unfamiliar kitchen and the chef running the event hates me, but we need to come up with a Vegas-style grand finale worth the price of admission. We need a showstopper.” He dodged a pair of spandex-clad in-line skaters zooming down the Boardwalk. “And no pressure, but my mother will be there with the billionaire she’s trying to impress.”

  She felt faint and pretended to collapse. “I think I’ve got sunstroke.”

  He half-carried, half-shoved her toward the Beach House. “Suck it up, and start figuring out how we’re going to put on a show. Think of it as a free vacation in Sin City. We won’t be there for long, but we can still have fun.”

  “Promise?” She shot a sly glance over her shoulder.

  His eyes met hers with heat and anticipation, making her shiver. “Create a Vegas-worthy dessert, and I’ll show you the time of your life.”

  Chapter Six

  Everything that could be done before the doors opened for lunch the next day had been done, but Roman couldn’t bring himself to go home. The menus were printed, supplies ordered, lunch cooks hired and trained, recipes perfected. The stations were prepped to the gills and they had backups in the walk-in. Actually, they were ahead of schedule. The back deck had been refinished, a sleek and smooth expanse waiting for customers to dance to music from the newly installed sound system. They had added an outdoor bar and opened the doors between the deck and dining room. The Beach House was a party waiting to happen.

  After doing one more tour through the empty dining room, Roman walked behind the line, feeling energy shoot up and down his spine. The past few days had been a nonstop adrenaline rush. He could count the hours of sleep he had gotten on both hands, yet he wasn’t tired. He’d sent Max and T-Bird home to rest up, but he had stayed, thinking he should come up with some specials.

  He reached for the lid of the grill station to look for inspiration, but before he could lift it, Jenna said. “Hold it right there, Chef.”

  He looked up to see her standing at the entrance to the line with her purse slung over her shoulder. She’d worked just as hard as he had for the past three days. The freezer was full of freshly churned ice cream, cookie dough, and cupcakes waiting to be filled. How she’d managed to get all that done in the middle of the controlled chaos happening on the line was a mystery to him. She’d moved among them like a swift shadow, silent and unobtrusive, yet he’d always been aware of her presence. Even in his busiest moments, he’d known exactly where she was in the kitchen because his pulse rate increased at the sound of her voice, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up when she passed behind him. When he got a whiff of chocolate chip cookies, he got hard. If she accidentally brushed against him, he’d half-turn toward her, concentration shot, until he remembered what he was doing and got back down to it.