When I emerged from my task, I found Ethan sprawled on one of the two couches, cell phone to ear. He was wearing a pair of silky-looking pajama bottoms in midnight blue and a white V-neck shirt. It looked so... domestic, that it made me pause. He was not looking at me, so I took a moment to trace the lines of his body beneath the soft, touchable-looking fabric. Without the buttoned-up uniform of the kitchen, he looked... yummy. More so than usual.
“Yes, tonight,” he said into the phone. There was a pause, “Yes, I understand it will be an extra expense, but it needs doing. I want it finished by tomorrow morning.” He listened for a moment, “Then I’ll expect you shortly.” He hung up and noticed me standing there. “Well, you look better. Do you feel better?”
I nodded and made my feet move forward until I was standing by the couch facing his. “Yes, thank you. I appreciate you doing all this for me. We don’t know each other well.”
He waved a hand in a dismissive gesture, his dark hair falling forward into his eyes before he shook it back. “It’s quite alright, and it is no problem.” He frowned down at my feet, “What did you do with your shoes if I may ask? I think they were just as bad as the rest.”
“I threw them in the wash.”
“Well, I’m sure that will make a delightful noise in the dryer.”
“Sorry,” I said again.
“I’m joking,” he said. He motioned to the couch, “Please, sit. Do you want something to eat? Drink?”
“Water would be fine. I don’t eat this late.”
He rose, “Are you sure? You didn’t eat much during your shift.”
I shrugged, “I’ve been on two meals a day for years now, and taste-testing at work helps keep the midnight munchies at bay.”
He went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of water. When he handed it to me, our fingers brushed, and that same almost-electric jolt seemed to jump between us, coiling deep within me. I looked away and took a drink, setting it down on a side table a moment later. He sat back where he had been and gazed at me. There was a little curl to the edge of his mouth. “So, what do you do when you return from work?”
I shrugged and crossed my legs, leaning back against the couch cushions. “Read a book, maybe catch up on a television show, clean the house... you know, normal stuff.”
“What do you read?”
Romance, lately. “Fiction. I read cookbooks on my days off sometimes, but I don’t like to take work home too much unless I’m feeling experimental which,” I laughed. “I’ve been doing a lot of lately thanks to the new range.”
“It’s a good model.”
I relaxed a little. We were on familiar territory. I wasn’t used to him being so damned civil. It was like the devil suddenly helping little old ladies across the street or volunteering in a soup kitchen. “So I’ve heard, but it’s been giving me trouble. I’m trying to figure out all its features, but I think I need to take a class or something.”
“If you call the manufacturer, they have a representative that will come by and show you the features. I had to do that. The operator’s manual was not written for cooks.”
I smiled, “Fiona said the same thing to me earlier. And thanks, I didn’t know they offered that service.”
He returned the smile and leaned against the arm of the couch, his fingers laced together in front of him. “The brand relies on word of mouth and customer satisfaction to keep us paying their exorbitant prices. I can find the number for you if you wish, but you may want to set up the appointment for your day off. The representative was here for almost four hours when he came by.”
The doorbell rang and I jumped. “Jesus, that scared me. You’re expecting company this late?”
He rose. “It’s just the service. I wanted to get the car cleaned before tomorrow. It won’t do to have you sitting on that seat in clean clothing.” He grabbed his keys from the end table and moved to the door, “It won’t take a moment.”
I watched him go, free of his gaze on me. He was absolutely ripped. I hadn’t seen his entire condo or the amenities of this place, but I was sure he either had a gym here or in the building. Lines of a tattoo peeked over the collar on the back of his shirt, and wondered what he had.
You just want to see him with his shirt off, one side of my mind reproached. Of course I do, I answered it, and it has been a while. A year? A little more? He is a beautiful specimen, even if he is a dick.
But he’s not now, I thought.
I wondered why.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ethan
I handed the car keys over to the man from the service and signed the order form for the cleaning. We exchanged brief pleasantries before he departed. I locked the door behind him and held the doorknob for a moment, staring down at my hand. What the hell was I thinking?
It was almost incomprehensibly stupid to bring her back here. I should have offered to pay for a hotel instead. She would have, perhaps, insisted on paying me back as she wanted to for the car cleaning, but it might have made us both more comfortable. Made me more comfortable.
I’d only shown one side of my personality to her before tonight. While I’d made up my mind to get to know her better, I hadn’t expected this all to happen so soon. And instead of turning dull and uninteresting, Veronica had proven to be engaging and intelligent.
While we hadn’t talked much, there was a comfort around her, an ease. It was almost like the peace of returning home after a grueling day at work, only more so.
I sighed and turned away from the door, returning to the woman in question. Her head moved away when she noticed me coming and I smiled. She was looking at me, and that one thought was chased by another. Well, I was looking at her earlier. It’s only fair.
She was a beautiful woman, her usual light-blond hair darkened from the shower and straight down her back, her skin clear and clean away from the steam and stress of the kitchen. But it was more than her physicality that made her attractive. The shower seemed to have relaxed her, and that fire I had caught a glimpse of on several occasions was beginning to assert itself.
I sat across from her and she looked up at me, her eyes bright in her pale features. “I have to ask,” she said once she caught my gaze, “Do you know martial arts or something? You didn’t seem to break a sweat when those guys came at you in the alleyway.”
I nodded, “Yes. I took Tai Kwan Do in middle and high school, and I continue to go through the forms today. I also practice meditation and Tai Chi. The arts are all about using your attacker’s momentum to throw them off balance.” And learning how to control your impulses, which is useful in my private life.
“It was amazing.” She paused and fiddled with her glass of water, twirling it on the side table. “And thank you. You didn’t have to save me. You could have just run for it.”
“That would have gone against my nature,” I said. I heard the harshness in my tone and flinched. Her mouth tightened down, and I cursed myself for my slip. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just... hoped you had had a higher opinion of me.”
Her cheeks colored, and her eyes flicked up to mine and back down, “No, I’m sorry. That wasn’t very nice of me. I do appreciate it. You saved me.”
I smiled. “I always take care of my own.” She was not mine, not in the way I wanted her to be, but she was part of my kitchen, my staff. “I’m still learning what I can about all of you at Poisson. While I will ensure that my kitchen is run to its highest potential, I will not allow strangers to upset or threaten my people.” I let my tone soften, “It’s why I followed you into the freezer. More than the threat to your cooking, I was worried about you.”
Her color rose higher, and she seemed to have trouble looking at me. “Thank you,” she murmured, then laughed. “I seem to be saying that a lot.”
There was a moment of companionable silence and then she said, “I’ve been wondering about the attack. D’Azur is in a very nice area of town, all things considered, and we don’t have a whole lot of gang or criminal activity, aside
from the occasional car break-in. Why were those thugs waiting outside? We’re sure to have less money than most of our customers—why weren’t they waiting for one of them, instead of us?”
I spread my hands. “I’m not sure. I was wondering if it was something to do with you, to be honest.”
“Something to do with me?” She sounded incredulous. “Are you kidding? I have few friends and all the enemies I had were in my hometown.”
“And where was that?”
She blinked, “Where was what?”
“Your hometown. Where are you from?”
She shook her head, her lips curled up a little. “Monmouth, Oregon. Small town. Fiona and I both.” She stared at me for a long, pregnant pause. “And this is where you tell me where you’re from.”
I shook my head, “Everywhere. Nowhere. My family moved a great deal up and down the east coast, and I spent a few years abroad in France, and explored Italy, Spain and Portugal as well. And there was Boston, before this.”
Her eyes were a little wide, “Wow,” she said. “With you being... well, you, are you sure you don’t have some east coast family out for blood? Why would it be me that they were wanting?”
I nodded, “Alright, I hear you. It was just a thought. They weren’t keen on your purse until the end when they ran. They seemed to be waiting for one of us, and I certainly don’t have any enemies.”
She let out a peal of laughter, long and sudden. It was amazing. I blinked and realized that I had never heard her, or anyone I worked with for that matter, truly laugh. “Are you kidding me? You act as though you’re waiting for a roving band of filmmakers to stumble into the kitchen, catch you in the act of berating one of the poor busboys, and say, ‘Oh, yes! You’re more of an asshole than Gordon Ramsey. We need to give you a show!’“
I blinked and folded my arms, “Is that what you think of me?”
Her laughter stopped as sudden as turning off a tap. She blinked her blue eyes rapidly and sucked in a large breath. “Oh my God, did I say that out loud?”
I chuckled. Oh, yes, I thought, and it’s nice to see. My first thought was that you were like all the other little lambs in the kitchen, but there’s steel to your spine, isn’t there? I smiled. “Yes, you did.”
“I’m sorry. So sorry. I didn’t mean that to come out, please don’t take it the wrong way.” Her eyes were wide, pleading.
I covered my mouth with my hand to hide my smile. “Really? What way should I take it?”
Veronica threw up her hands, “I don’t know! I’m under a lot of stress. Did I mention the kitchen fire? The lost cell phone? Oh, and that I got freaking attacked and thrown into a dumpster?”
“On a dumpster.”
“Whatever! But I’ve had a long day.” She stood, “I should just go to bed.”
I stood as well, and the movement brought our bodies close together. I reached out before I could stop myself and grasped her shoulder, “It’s alright.” I said, letting my grin slip free. “It’s fine. I appreciate the candor.”
She did not move my hand away, and I kept it there. My shirt was too large for her, and the shoulder I touched was bare. I liked the feel of her skin under mine, the warmth that she exuded, the heady natural scent of her that was detectable even under fresh soap and water.
“Is that so?” She asked, eyes searching mine. “What if I had said something like that back in the kitchen today? Would you have appreciated the candor then?”
I shook my head and said, as soft as I could, “No. But we’re not in the kitchen. Now, we’re in my home, and in my home, I will always treat you as an equal.”
She stepped back, and my hand slipped away. “Why? What makes it so different here? And if you wanted to get to know me, or anyone that you work with, why haven’t you gone out with us after work for drinks, or for a bite to eat? Why haven’t you tried to get to know us?”
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “Because I did all that years ago, when I first became a Master Chef, and it backfired horribly.”
She frowned, “Why?”
Because I couldn’t control myself, that’s why. I shook my head and waved a hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter.” I looked at her, my eyes boring into hers. Red blossomed on her cheeks and I had to swallow the urge to smile again, what are you thinking, Ms. Delaware? “What matters is that I vowed to keep my work and personal life separate. But, circumstances being what they are, I find that I’m enjoying your company.”
“Well I—uh, thank you.”
I smiled again, “Just don’t expect this to change our professional relationship.”
Her cheeks fired up an even brighter shade of red. “What? Yelling and screaming at me and everyone else? Yeah, I’m looking forward to that.” She took a step forward and pointed a finger at me. “Did you know that you’ve almost driven me—hell, everyone—to quit? Is that what you want?”
I stepped forward to meet her and her finger pressed into my chest. I bent down so that our faces were only a hands breadth apart. “I want competence,” I breathed. “And you cannot deny that the kitchen has run smoothly despite my...” I glanced down at her lips. “Tactics.”
For a moment, I thought she would finish the movement I had started. I could see the desire in her eyes, how they darkened with the knowledge that I wanted her, and she wanted me. I curled my fingers into fists at my side and waited, my eyes locked on hers. Her breath mingled with mine. She stared at me for a while, that dark knowledge filling her eyes, and then it faltered, faded, and she stepped back.
“I think you could tone it down a bit and everything would be fine,” she said instead, hugging her arms to herself. “We’re human beings, not machines.”
I straightened and took a step back. I could still reach out to her if I wanted, but I did not want to scare her away. That thought made me hesitate.
Scare her off? I should scare her off. Even if she does want me, and I want her, she has no idea everything that it entails.
Veronica wasn’t looking at me. “I’m tired,” she said again. “Where can I sleep?”
“The guest bedroom is two doors down from the bathroom you used,” I said. “Everything should be set up, but if you need anything, I’ll be out here for a while.”
“Thanks,” she said and turned to go.
“Veronica,” I called. She stopped and turned her head, but still did not look at me. “There are some books in there. Please feel free to read anything you wish.”
She took a deep breath, her shoulders squared. “Thanks,” she said again. “Good night, Mr. Craymore.”
“Good night.”
CHAPTER NINE
Veronica
When I opened my eyes, it took me a moment to remember where I was. Instead of the acoustic ceiling tiles that some hapless decorator had put in my bedroom, there was clean, white drywall above me, a silver-bladed ceiling fan affixed to the center. I blinked upward for a while until the remnants of my dream faded away and the events of the night before came rushing back. The robbery, the car ride, the talk with Chef Craymore.
I sat up and rubbed at my forehead. “Shit,” I said. I had just woken from a very nice, very tactile dream in which Ethan Craymore, ropes, and a flogger had played a starring role. I sat and tried to untangle the threads of the dream from what had happened last night. The dream had picked up almost exactly where we had left off, but instead of backing away I had raised myself up and kissed the lips that had been so close to mine. Things had heated up from there.
I could feel the slickness between my legs that the dream had helped cause and groaned. If I were alone, I would spend a while re-living the best parts of the dream and bringing my body to the release it so needed, but it felt wrong to do so in a strange bed, and in a house where I was the guest.
I got out of bed and went to the bathroom down the hall to take care of my morning business. I didn’t have a toothbrush and my mouth felt disgusting, but I found some mouth wash in the medicine cabinet and gargled it for as lo
ng as I could stand before I rinsed my mouth, washed my hands, and went out to the main room.
The sight that greeted me made me pause.
Ethan Craymore had dispensed with the shirt sometime during the night, and his back was to me.
A large full-color tattoo covered his back. I stood still, staring, not daring to make a sound while I took it in. In the center was the face of a beautiful, ethereal woman, her smile promising danger and lust. Her hair spiraled out into intricate Celtic knot work, framing her lovely features. She was set against a dark background, her canted eyes like cats and a pointed tooth showing in her smile. The knots spiraled around her in a symphony of colors—red, gold, and blue. It should have looked vaguely Christmas-themed, but it wasn’t. Anyone looking at the design would think ‘pagan’ way before they thought ‘Christian.’
I stepped forward and a floorboard creaked beneath me. Ethan turned, his eyes heavy-lidded with sleep, and smiled lazily. “Good morning,” he said, his voice low and husky. “Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, thank you.” I paused and crossed the room to stand by the bar separating the kitchen from the other living areas. It was hard to think when he was like this. He had muscles without looking grotesque; the hard lines of his body something that I wanted to trace my hands over. I shook myself mentally and smiled at him. “Thank you for letting me read the books. I started re-reading Jane Eyre last night. I don’t have my own copy.”
“You can have that one. Those books are for display, I’ve never read them.”
I shook my head. “I appreciate that, but I can just get a copy from the library.”
“Well, you can borrow that one until you finish re-reading it.”
I smiled. “Alright then.” I slid into one of the barstools and leaned my elbows against the countertop. “So, what are you making?”
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