Eat Your Heart Out: A Romance Charity Anthology

by Skye MacKinnon

  Jessalyn Jameson

  Heat level: 4

  Hollywood event planner Kelsey Sutton is damn good at her job, and her latest wedding proves that she’s at the top of her game. So this is quite possibly the worst time to give into temptation and mix business with pleasure.

  But all it takes to have her questioning her own self-imposed don’t sleep with staff! rule is one sinfully delicious French pastry chef—and the massive baguette in his pants.

  The dough won’t be the only thing rising in this tantalizing quickie from the author of The Brunch Babes series.

  Chapter 1

  Kelsey’s drive from Los Angeles to the desert seemed even longer than just over two hours. Her body vibrated with excitement as she prepared to see this wedding come to fruition, something she’d been working on for almost a year. Her brand-new white minivan was filled to the brim with supplies, and deliveries would start arriving at the venue in a matter of hours. As the sun crested over the mountains ahead of her, she smiled, thanking the universe for another beautiful morning and what would likely be an amazing weekend of wedding events.

  Her little event planning business, Kelsey’s Kreations, was really taking flight, and all those sleepless nights and long hours had finally paid off. Every small press event she’d put together, each little launch party in L.A., and the countless number of Bar and Bat Mitzvahs she’d planned for the Hollywood elite had finally given her enough clout to transition into what she really wanted to do: plan massive weddings, preferably outside of the city.

  With this event in La Quinta and the wedding coming up this summer in Barbados, Kelsey could finally add Destination Event Planner to her resume.

  Life. Was. Good.

  Kelsey pulled into the estate and down the long driveway, barely able to sit still she was so excited. She passed the horses roaming loose in the corral, the large front lawn where the cocktail hour would be held, drove through the great barn where she would put together the perfect rehearsal dinner tonight, then pulled into one of the multiple garages and parked the van.

  Much of the staff was already busying themselves around the grounds, and she spotted a few of her usual catering crew from L.A. She waved to them as they hurried between buildings, prepping for the arrival of the bridal party throughout the day.

  She grabbed her phone and her iPad, then opened the car door, slamming into something.

  Someone.

  The man grunted and Kelsey froze.

  She looked up at the guy she’d just opened her car door into, closing the door quickly and cursing under her breath.

  His face was pinched in frustration, but then his jaw relaxed. His eyes widened slightly as he held her gaze, backing up out of the reach of her door.

  Well, hello there, gorgeous.

  He had a metal baking sheet pressed up against his chest, which must have happened when she slammed her door into him. Dark, jet-black hair was pulled back into a low, short ponytail at the nape of his neck. Full lips sat below a straight nose, in a jaw clearly fashioned from steel. Even a few days’ worth of beard stubble couldn’t hide the angular edges of this man’s beautiful face. Eyes nearly as dark as his hair watched her with a flicker of amusement as he opened her door.

  As Kelsey climbed out of the van, she assessed him for any damage, but couldn’t help noticing that not only was he undamaged from her little car door debacle, he was built like a Greek God.

  He inclined his head. “Pardonne moi, Mademoiselle.”

  Okay, make that a French God.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there. Are you hurt?”

  “Ça ne me dérange pas d’être frappé avec une porte de voiture par une belle femme.”

  The man’s white apron may have been hiding what lay below his belt—sadly—but it did little to hide his strong arms or the width of his broad shoulders. The man was built. She hoped in more ways than one. Her gaze fell to the ground and the trio of fresh baguettes at his feet, then skittered up to his groin, hidden behind the apron, and Kelsey imagined what his baguette might look like.

  Thick and broad like his shoulders?

  Mmm.

  “Tu continues à regarder ma… baguette.”

  Kelsey frowned, her cheeks heating. Was he a mind reader?

  Oh! His baguettes! Duh. She nearly facepalmed. She’d caused him to drop his baguettes. The bread, not the penis. She squatted to pick up his baguettes, and he lowered down with her, reaching for the same one she reached for and grazing her fingers with his own. She met his gaze, pulling in a shaky breath because the way he looked at her had nothing to do with his long, hard bread, and everything to do with other phallic things.

  “Bonjour.” The way his tongue curled around the word created an instant connection to her core.

  Kelsey nearly purred. It wasn’t fair that he should look that sexy and sound like sex personified, and intoxicate her with the scent of his freshly baked bread; not when she had to keep her distance. Kelsey was a professional, and this man—hot as he was—wouldn’t make her break her rules. Mixing business with pleasure was never a good idea. It didn’t matter if he was catering staff, or a groomsman, or even a groundskeeper, she never—fine, rarely—broke her rule about hooking up at one of her events.

  Kelsey stood quickly and tried to flash a confident—not dripping with lust—smile, extending her hand. “Bonjour.” The word didn’t sound quite as sexy as it did when he said it, but with only one school year of eighth grade French to pull from, she was happy to at least have something to say in this man’s native language.

  His eyes lit up as he slid his hand into hers. “Vous parlez français?”

  Kelsey grimaced. “Not really. Just a little. Um… petite poisson?” She raised her hand, thumb and forefinger close together to show a little bit.

  He flashed a smile, nodding, so she must have nailed it.

  “Tu es une belle femme, et j’aimerais coucher avec toi. Est-ce que tu comprends?”

  Kelsey nodded, smiling at him even though she had no idea what he just said. But she was pretty sure he’d asked if she understood, so she nodded. Which was a lie, but he didn’t have to know that.

  The man smirked, biting his lower lip.

  Her gaze fell to his mouth and her belly tightened in response. Then his tongue darted out to wet his lips and Kelsey had to avert her eyes quickly, so she dropped her gaze to the ground. “Jesus,” she murmured. “Are you doing that on purpose?”

  “Quel est votre nom, belle américaine?”

  She raised her head, swallowing hard because she was way more attracted to this handsome stranger than she should be.

  Okay. Get your shit together. What did he just say? American, that much she’d caught and could translate. What else? Um… votre nom…

  She frowned. “Nom?”

  “Nom.” He nodded, then brought his hand to his chest. “Jean-Luc.”

  Oh, good grief! He was the French pastry chef the Harringtons flew in to design the wedding cake. Maybe if he hadn’t been so freakin’ sexy, Kelsey would have been able to put two and two together. But just sharing airspace with this man had her brain misfiring like her engine was on the fritz.

  Maybe it was. It was certainly overheating.

  She couldn’t clear her mind, so she cleared her throat. “Yes, Jean-Luc. Of course.” She blushed from not realizing who he was. “I’m Kelsey. Sutton. Kelsey Sutton.” She brought her own hand to her chest.

  His eyes fell to her hand on her chest, so she dropped it, but his focus remained there, setting her skin aflame. He licked his lips again and she drew in a shaky breath, giving her head a quick shake. “I’m the event planner.” She motioned around the garage, and then out at the grounds. “I planned this event,” she said slowly, then pointed to her van and the large Kelsey’s Kreations logo covering one side.

  With his gaze still on her cleavage, Kelsey pulled in a breath. She had to get away from the heat of this man’s stare, and, if she was honest, the lust in his dark eyes. Wer
e all French men this sexy? Maybe she should have stuck with taking French after middle school and studied abroad or something. The French had invented the best kind of kissing, after all, so it really wasn’t a stretch to think that they were all this delicious… and liked to do things with their tongues.

  And now she was thinking about his tongue. As if following her thoughts, he tugged that bottom lip between his teeth again and nearly undid her right where she stood.

  Kelsey’s phone buzzed in her hand, pulling her out of his tractor-beam brown eyes.

  She smiled politely, holding up her phone. “I have to get this. It was nice to meet you, Jean-Luc.” There. That came out all right. He couldn’t tell she was about to undress for him right here in the middle of this ten-car garage and offer her cookie up for taste-testing.

  One eyebrow crept up his forehead and he dragged his gaze slowly down her body, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. “J’ai hâte de te rencontrer à nouveau, Kelsey.”

  What had he said? She hadn’t the slightest. But what he said and what he implied with that fiery gaze were probably two different things.

  And only one of them made her knees weak and her panties wet.

  Kelsey was screwed. Completely and utterly screwed.

  Or, at least, she hoped to be.

  Chapter 2

  Swept up in the chaos and the breakneck pace of wedding weekend preparations, Kelsey’s morning sped by quickly, and by mid-afternoon, the grounds were starting to come alive as members of the wedding party, catering staff and crew showed up to the rental estate. The vibe was buzzing with anticipation and excitement for the weekend, and Kelsey buzzed right along with everyone else. The biggest event of her career thus far, and the perfect event to get her truly prepared for the destination wedding coming up in Barbados this summer. Every so often, the intense feeling of gratitude came over her and she paused to soak in the joy of doing what she loved most.

  Kelsey stood beneath the shade of a large Palo Verde tree, the canopy bright with yellow flowers, taking a moment to breathe before she sped off to address whatever was next on her long list of tasks. The rehearsal dinner time was creeping up quickly and she still had a million things to accomplish before the barn was ready for the wedding party.

  So, of course this was the moment that Chef Jean-Luc Drop-Your-Panties decided to find her… alone and relaxed and completely unprepared for the way her body reacted to him.

  He strode toward her, a devilish smile pulling at his rosy lips, and her belly tightened as heat rushed south.

  Kelsey breathed deeply, then plastered a bright smile to her face—one she hoped would not convey her fascinating attraction to this stranger. What was it about him that had her so flustered?

  Her gaze fell to his apron, now decorated with little food smudges from whatever he’d been working on, and the age-old question of What’s Behind Door Number One popped into her head. Kelsey giggled at the thought, quickly covering her mouth with her hand and faking a cough as she forced her gaze back up to his face. His hair was a bit messier than earlier, and there was a smudge of flour on his strong cheek, which made him all the more real—and even sexier.

  Dammit. She averted her gaze, but instead of being obedient, her eyes dragged down his body leisurely before finally finding their focus on the grass at his feet.

  “Nous nous rencontrons à nouveau, mon bel Américain.” He extended his hand out, so Kelsey placed her hand in his. “Je t’ai observé toute la jour née, bourdonnant comme une abeille à chaque fleur. Tellement concentré.”

  Kelsey smiled and nodded, even though she had no idea what he’d said. “Are you ready for the rehearsal dinner, Chef Dumonde?”

  “S’il vous plaît, appelez-moi Jean-Luc.” He placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles, then released her hand, and she dropped it to her side, the softest tickle of sensation from his kiss still dancing on her skin. “Puisque je sais à quel point tu t’intéresses à ma baguette, j’aimerais que tu en essaies une. Venir.”

  Kelsey pursed her lips as she tried to figure out if she recognized any of the words he’d just said. Maybe if she could decipher one or two of them, she could make sense of what he’d said. But all she could focus on was baguette.

  She frowned. “I’m sorry, Jean-Luc, I can’t understand. Je ne comprends pas.” She remembered at least that much, but it was not nearly enough.

  He flashed a smile and Kelsey’s cheeks warmed, then he reached out his hand. “Oui. Venir.”

  She slid her hand into his, then allowed him to lead her out of the shade of the Palo Verde tree and into the hot sun, then she followed him toward the main house and, she assumed, the kitchen. As they reached the door, she began to worry. What if something was wrong with the meal? They only had a few hours until the rehearsal dinner, so whatever it was, she prayed he could salvage it.

  Jean-Luc released her hand and opened the door to the kitchen. The fresh, delicious, buttery, doughy scent of fresh bread hit her and she breathe in deeply, practically moaning at how wonderful it smelled. She looked at the chef and her eyes widened. “That smells amazing.”

  He grinned. “Merci.” Extending his arm toward the kitchen, he motioned for her to enter.

  Kelsey had always thought that Subway restaurants should come out with a room spray, and if they’d actually followed her advice and created one, this is what their signature scent would smell like. Freshly baked baguettes lined the kitchen counter, and Kelsey’s stomach growled loudly. She laughed self-consciously, then followed Jean-Luc to the center of the room. He smiled, then placed his hand on her lower back and guided her closer, releasing her to grab a baguette.

  “S'il vous plaît. Essayez ceci.” He sliced a piece of and spread better over the bread, then handed it to Kelsey.

  She took a bite and her eyes nearly rolled back into her head. Total mouth-gasm. “Oh my god,” she said, her words muffled by the warm bread in her mouth.

  “You like my baguette?”

  “Oui.” Kelsey nodded. “So good.”

  He smiled, then nodded, bringing his hand up to her face. “Tu as un peu de beurre sur la lèvre.”

  Kelsey froze as his hand connected to her face, careful not to move as she slid his thumb gently across her bottom lip.

  Then he brought his thumb to his mouth and sucked the butter off, holding Kelsey’s gaze.

  And that’s when she knew she was a goner. Because that look in his eyes meant many things, and none of them were safe.

  He stepped forward, leaving nothing but a few inches between them.

  Kelsey swallowed the clump of bread-turned-cement in her mouth, noticing only briefly that she’d actually gulped—how embarrassing!—and then he inclined his head, leaning forward and bringing his mouth toward hers, and all Kelsey could think was mayday! Mayday! As his lips teased hers with a gentle kiss.

  Kelsey sucked in a ragged breath, then he kissed her again, another fleeting, tease of a caress, and her eyes fluttered closed.

  “Oui. Comme je le soupçonnais. Tu me veux aussi.”

  Kelsey’s eyes opened.

  “Ce soir, belle américaine.”

  She nodded, in a complete haze from his kisses, then she stepped backwards until she was clear of the island, where she turned and left the kitchen, desperate to put some distance between this man and the way he made her want to break her own rules and throw all caution to the wind.

  Tonight, he’d said. A delightful shudder ran through her body at the way her imagination sprang to life with all sorts of ideas about what tonight might bring, but she pushed the thoughts away. She was a professional. She would not meet up with the handsome chef tonight.

  ‘Don’t sleep with staff’ was a really good rule.

  Wasn’t it?

  Kelsey blew a raspberry as she headed over to the barn to get back to business. She was starting to question her rules.

  But… rules were boring, and sexy French chefs were anything but.

  Chapter 3

  The massive barn
was lit up like Christmas; café string lights stretched across from side to side, lining the length of the building, and curtains of smaller, twinkling lights draped at each entrance. It was a rehearsal dinner fit for a princess.

  Kelsey stood back, watching the bride-to-be smile widely in the amber glow of the lights, and she knew she’d pulled it off. At least, so far. The wedding was tomorrow, and she had to pull that off too, but this moment she took to revel in the beauty of this place, a beauty she created.

  She snapped a few pictures to send to her girlfriends, and a few more photos for Instagram. She’d have access to professional venue photos from the wedding photographer, but always liked to put her own spin on things, and share a little behind the scenes actions with her followers.

  “C’est un beau spectacle,” Jean-Luc said behind her.

  His words and the closeness of his voice sent a shiver down her spine and a rush of heat to her core. She closed her eyes as she inhaled a deep breath, and before she could pull herself together enough to turn around, he took a step forward.

  Their bodies connected and Kelsey gasped softly as his hard body lined up flush with hers. She no longer had to imagine what was hidden beneath that apron because it pressed against her behind.

  “Je veux que tu viennes essayer mon dessert,” he said, his voice low, sensual, the words—whatever they were—igniting heated desire throughout her body.

  He definitely said something about dessert, and Kelsey wanted to be his.

  “Mmm,” she murmured. This man was trouble with a capital T, and she needed to put some distance between them. She watched the wedding party laughing and talking, enjoying their evening, ignoring her completely.

  Which was a good thing because when Jean-Luc snaked his hand around her waist and tugged her tighter against his body, and she realized that her temperature wasn’t the only thing rising, she was grateful for the shadows hiding the surprise on her face—and the lust likely blazing in her eyes.