by Brit Blaise
"But..."
"I'm too tempted.” Mike started to walk. “Maybe you'd like to come to my place to dinner next time—tomorrow?"
Cara's face flushed with heat. “How far do you live from here?” She bolted from her chair to race after him.
He paused at the front door, staring at her with a look she couldn't read.
"One last thing,” he said finally. He touched his hand to her throat in a caress so delicate it zinged along her nerves. Heat radiated from his fingertips.
Cara tried to stand still as her sex clenched with pleasure, once and then twice. She stopped breathing as he traced a slow path up and along her chin until it feathered along her ear and playfully jiggled her earring.
Cara had an even more difficult time holding still as he repeated the process with his other hand until he held her head securely. He closed the space between them until only a beam of air separated them. Her breath caught in her throat as she anticipated the kiss she wished to hurry along. Somehow she managed to tamp down her impatience.
The smell of him reminded her of the hot, buttery rum chocolate mousse her grandmother used to make. How curious he would remind her of something so comforting when he made her feel as if she were about to go up in a blaze.
Time stood still.
Seconds flew by with boundless swiftness.
His lips, at first the barest touch, brought a fission of passion, igniting her insides in an explosion of marvelous sensations. While his kiss deepened, it felt both unfamiliar and a kiss she knew well in her secret dreams. She lost herself as she fused her mouth to his. When finally he released his hands from her face to encircle her within his strong arms, her own flew around his neck as she strained for more.
"More."
Did she just whisper out loud? She must have vocalized the thought as the word set off a new urgency. He responded, allowing his tongue to join the dance. It sent a needy message racing through her veins. She wanted him right then, on her mother's porch with the entire neighborhood looking. She didn't care. She wanted him—now.
While his kiss became more than she could've imagined, it left her painfully wanting more. How long the kiss lasted, she couldn't say, but it ended before she wanted. She couldn't get enough. She opened her eyes to see him smiling down at her.
"I'll call you in the morning and we'll make plans for tomorrow evening?"
Cara tried to find her voice. “Yes."
He hesitated, touching her face again. Cara wanted to know what was running through his mind, because she couldn't tell from his face.
"And, Cara. I don't think I can be a gentleman again. This is killing me."
"Good.” She stood in silence as he turned his back and walked to his car.
Every step he took jarred her.
She felt changed. Could a kiss have such power?
It wasn't until his car drove out of sight, she stopped watching. Only then did she realize, she was leaning on the frame of the door for support. Her legs felt boneless as she started to move. They hadn't even had an official first date and she had spaghetti-legs? What next?
[Back to Table of Contents]
CHAPTER 6
Mike put the finishing touches on the table as he waited for Cara to arrive. He planned to have her shown to his office for an opportunity to be alone with her without interruption or distraction.
Their intense sexual attraction surprised him. Ever since he'd broken up with Felicia, he'd had a smorgasbord of beautiful women at his beck and call. None made him feel like Cara did. Not even close.
When they spoke earlier that morning, she didn't give him a clue of where he stood. No amount of prompting made her tell him what he wanted to hear. He needed to know he hadn't imagined the connection they shared.
"How are you going to teach me to cook in here?” Her sultry voice drummed through him, thrumming along his body and going straight to his groin before he even turned to look at her.
"I thought we might be alone and have a bite to eat first,” he said, startled by the need taking him so swiftly. He turned to face her and the sensation intensified. Her pale amber-green eyes penetrated him, drawing him to her, even though his feet hadn't moved. “I hoped to have a few minutes alone to talk before we go to the kitchen.” He wanted to see those eyes again in passion. They became almost emerald green when he kissed her.
He motioned for her to enter.
"Talk?” she asked, with a faint hint of distrust.
It unsettled him. He had issues about women mistrusting his intentions.
"You look beautiful,” he told her, admiring her flawless taste.
She shrugged out of her camelhair coat and left it on his sofa. Her teal cashmere sweater seemed to add more green to her eyes. He wanted to feel her sweater against his bare chest.
"It's the wool,” she said.
"Wool?"
"Wool slacks my mother gave me for my birthday,” she said with a chuckle and ran her hand along the hip of the cream-colored pants. “Slacks and cooking lessons. Who knew?"
"Let's toast to your mom.” He poured two flutes of champagne and held one out to her, inviting her into his space. Electricity filled the air as their fingers grazed. How could they continue for hours as if each fraction of a second didn't explode with awareness for them?
"Trust me. I was less than enthusiastic about the cooking lessons,” she told him before she lifted her glass.
"Imagine that.” His eyes locked on her sumptuous lips when she drank her wine. He wanted to taste the vintage as it lingered in her mouth. He wanted to taste her everywhere she'd let him. Would inhibitions hold her back? Or would she work as eagerly with him in person as she had on the phone?
Would she be shocked to hear his favorite feast?
"This champagne is delicious,” Cara said, her green-golden eyes mesmerizing him before she turned away to look at the table.
"Delicious,” he repeated as the flame inside him grew. This was the reason he'd had to leave so abruptly the previous evening, and even now, without kissing her, he neared the edge of reason and sanity. They hadn't even had a proper date, yet here he stood thinking of seduction. Thinking of locking the door and leading her to the sofa.
Would she?
Did he dare find out?
"You seem quiet this evening, for someone wanting to talk,” she said. She set her glass on the table and began to prowl around the room. “One would think you have something bothering you. So, let me put your mind to rest. I've decided to do your show again."
"I'd like you to know I'm not dating half the city. I'm not—I'm mean ... I don't know what I mean. I suppose, by some standards, I have an active social life."
Cara turned back to look at him. “You really don't owe me an explanation. I overreacted. I've dated only a handful of times in the last four years, so I hardly qualify as someone to judge."
Only a handful of dates in the last four years? Why? Had she been hurt? He could relate.
"Compared to a lot of the guys I hung with in school, I was a late bloomer,” Mike continued. “The year after I graduated from high school, I made up for lost time. I drove my mother crazy. Since my dad died when I was eleven, she felt she needed to take his place. Having your mother attempt to teach you the facts of life tends to warp your perceptions if you're a red-blooded male.
"To make a long story short, I realize I haven't always made the best choices as far as women are concerned.” He decided to drop the subject. “So you're certain about coming to the next class?"
"I believe you're right about not quitting. If I somehow manage to remain low-key and prepare the food without a disaster, then the first episode will fade into oblivion,” she told him with a smile. “Can we make hotdogs?"
Her smile spread across her face and captivated him. Suddenly he was glad he hadn't mentioned being celibate the last year. He didn't want her to feel compelled to help him in the endeavor to remain so.
"So what do you think?” she prompted when he didn't resp
ond.
"I wasn't thinking about the show. I can't think beyond—I can't think,” he told her. He wanted to make love, and she wanted to make hotdogs.
"That sounds ominous. If you can't think, what can you do?” The sultry tone of her voice pumped blood to his groin, leaving none in his head. Surely she couldn't be suggesting what he thought?
He watched her walk back to the table to retrieve her glass. When she walked toward the doorway, as if she were ready to leave, he sighed.
"I'm sure I could do any number of things, but I don't think that is what you have in mind.” Mike took a large gulp to finish his wine. “I take it you're ready to go to the kitchen."
"Later,” she said as closed the door.
His heart pounded in his chest, so hard he wondered if she could see it beating.
Cara turned to burn him with her now emerald eyes while she watched his face intensely. The sound of a click, louder than a bomb exploding in his ears, told him she'd locked the door.
"A number of things, you say?” Her voice dropped to the floor, entering his body through his toes and racing upward to the center of his motivations. He became so hard he wasn't certain he could walk.
Heat propelled him across the room to gather her in his arms. He trembled as he fought to slow down and keep control, but Cara wrapped herself tightly around him, giving him her mouth and fervently seeking. Needy, provocative lunges with her tongue melded them together.
She dropped her glass as she reached to grab him as tightly as he held her. Her freed fingers inched his sweater upwards, prompting him to pull the garment over his head and toss it to the floor. He'd thought he wanted to feel her cashmere sweater against his skin, but he didn't. He wanted her skin against him.
He unfastened her bra and pushed it back. He couldn't wait to see her breasts a second longer. And they were fucking incredible. Two large perfect globes of pale white flesh surrounded delicate peach nipples. He took them in his hands and tested their weight. Heavy. Full. More than he could have imagined.
"I envision your cock right here.” She ran a hand along her cleavage.
Oh, yeah! He could see it, too ... in a couple of minutes.
Pounding on the door made him wince. “Boss, are you in there? We have an emergency in the kitchen. Louis had another fire."
There was more thumping against the panel. “Boss?"
The ragged sound of Cara's breathing nearly matched his to drown out the unwelcome words coming through the door. The sight of her sensational cha-chas in his hands made him want to tell his employee to get lost.
"I'll be there in a minute, Paul,” Mike managed to say.
But his hands didn't want to let go. “Fuck.” He released them and they bounced. “This better be good, or heads will roll."
He leaned down to retrieve his sweater. It had managed to fall in the same spot as Cara's glass. The first touch told him it had soaked up the champagne from the floor. Cara wrapped her arms around herself as she watched him pensively.
"Sorry about the wine,” she said, looking down at the glass on the floor.
Mike shrugged into his wet sweater and reached for her hand. “I want you, Cara. I want you bad."
"You should see what happened in the kitchen,” she said, breaking the look between them by glancing back at the glass on the floor.
"Follow when you're dressed. I need to get there before the fire marshal arrives and shuts us down. Felicia would have my head. She's been a terror all day as it is."
Mike left Cara, only to find what Paul had labeled a fire didn't amount to anything. When she arrived a few seconds behind him, he didn't know what to say to her. Suspicious, he gave Cara a recipe card to read, while he talked to Louis, the assistant chef.
After he showed Cara how to prepare the meal planned for the next class, he found a moment alone with Paul.
"Louis said what you saw was just a flash of hot oil burning on the grill,” Mike said to his night manager. “Since flash fires happen twenty times a day around here, I can't help but wonder why you felt it necessary to manufacture a reason to get me out of my office and into the kitchen."
"Boss, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I'd be interrupting you. As soon as I saw Miss Thomas, I knew why Felicia wanted me to get you out of your office,” Paul said, as he wiped the same spot on the counter for the fifth time. “I hope you won't tell her I squealed. I'm sorry about the lie."
"I'm no more anxious to confront Felicia than you are. Forget about it,” Mike said before he rejoined Cara. Mike tried not to think of how unpredictable Felicia was of late.
"What do you think?” Mike said as he put his arms around her, pulling her against him. “Are you comfortable with the recipes we'll be preparing tomorrow?"
Everyone in the kitchen stopped what they were doing to stare, leaving him without a doubt Felicia would hear about it.
"You tasted my chicken Kiev, so you tell me. Am I ready?” Cara relaxed into his grasp and molded her soft, yielding body to his, like butter on hot bread.
"I think you'll be my star pupil, but there's another problem we haven't discussed,” Mike said. He nuzzled her neck and tasted the sweetness of her soft skin.
"And what problem would that be?” She pulled back to look up at him with her dynamite green eyes.
"What if I can't control myself around you, like last time? If you hadn't kept the cameraman occupied filming you, I might've found my hard-on in the spotlight. I figure I owe you a favor. And I know how to repay you."
"That sounds like a threat,” she answered with a smoky chuckle to stir his blood.
"The favor I'm going to bestow upon you comes at great hardship for me. I'm going to send you home after a very quick stop in my office."
Cara looked up at him as if she couldn't believe what she'd heard. He couldn't believe he was saying it.
"I swear I haven't lost my mind.” He buried his face in her neck again.
Mike turned toward the stove. “Paul, I'm going to take a few minutes with Miss Thomas without interruptions. You think you can handle any problems that might come up?” Not that he expected problems, but he wouldn't take bets on Felicia not calling again.
Taking Cara's hand in his, he headed for his office. Once inside, he wasted no time locking the door and covering her mouth with his. He'd intended to make it brief, but the taste of her was like a drug. The price for touching his lips to hers suddenly became more than he'd anticipated. More than explosive desire. More than passionate hunger. The kiss took him to a place that ripped at his heart, laying it open and bare.
Could she be the one? Could it happen this quickly? The suddenness of it all made him distrust his own feelings.
* * * *
Cara couldn't think. Mike's kiss made her lust like she never had. When he deepened the kiss, her knees went weak. Somehow he managed to steady her while, at the same time, unfastening her jeans. If she could concentrate on anything other than his mouth, maybe she'd help him.
Somehow, he managed to get his hand down inside her still-tight jeans to cup her mons with his large, warm hand. Those jeans needed to come off...
He continued to kiss her while he humped her with his hand. He sank a finger into her slit to fuck her, while he groaned into her mouth.
"So wet."
When he massaged her clit and kissed her even more fervently, Cara relaxed into his expert touch. He pinned her against the back of the door so he had more leverage and in a split-second a tight coil of tension signaled her climax. Had it ever been this fast? She didn't come this easily ... ever.
An orgasm slammed into her.
* * * *
Cara pulled into her driveway and tapped the garage door opener in time to the music on the radio. The garage door moaned in protest before she realized what she'd been doing. Only the thought of a repair bill stopped her.
After driving into the garage, she sat in the car and finished listening to the end of the love song. Funny, she'd heard the same song a hundred times and the wor
ds had always seemed generic ... until tonight. Now they seemed to speak to her.
As she closed the car door behind her, she heard her home phone ringing. Mike? Without hesitation, she rushed into the house to grab it.
"I wanted to make sure you got home safely,” Mike said.
"I just walked in the door."
"I'll see you tomorrow night?"
"See you tomorrow night.” She looked at the number on her Caller ID. The sight of his name on display excited her and she ran her finger across it, as though she caressed him.
"Maybe we could get together after the class. I know you get up early on weekdays so I promise I won't keep you up late,” Mike said.
"I'd like that."
"Sleep well, Cara.” His farewell was a throaty whisper.
"You, too, Mike,” she said, as a languid, peaceful feeling settled deep in her bones.
She replaced the phone in the cradle and then hurriedly picked it back up to make sure she hadn't hung up on him. When she put the phone down again she felt like a teenager. Nothing could have prepared her for how fast she was falling for Chef Mike Nichols.
It scared the stuffing out of her.
It made her deliriously happy.
No wonder women threw themselves at Chef Mike if he could turn a sensible woman into mush so easily. And she didn't even like mush.
[Back to Table of Contents]
CHAPTER 7
Cara tried to act nonchalant when she arrived at the restaurant to wait with the same bevy of malnourished blonde beauties. Well, almost the same. One of the blondes had changed her hair to light auburn, almost the same color as Cara's, and deviated from wearing black. Cara began to wonder if she had competition.
Betty greeted her warmly, hurrying to her side.
"I'm so glad you to see you again. I wondered if perhaps you might not come back,” Betty said. “I must say I admire your courage."
"Your son promised me there wouldn't be a replay of what happened last time. He even let me prepare today's recipes in advance to see if I could manage without a problem."