CHAPTER TEN
Veronica
The police interview took almost two hours. Ethan and I were separated about half way through and interviewed separately to see if there was any information we were withholding while in each other’s presence. By the time it ended, I had a headache and had to beg a couple of aspirin off a desk clerk.
After the police interview, Ethan informed me that he had been contacted by Mr. Simmons. The police had shut down the restaurant until they gathered more evidence from the alleyway. With the garbage strewn all over by yours truly, they were having a hell of a time sifting through the mess for any additional clues. Mr. Simmons was near convulsions due to the loss of income—as always, we had several important people that had reservations, but when the police say “you’re shut down,” there’s little you can do to argue with them.
Tomorrow was Monday. Monday and Tuesdays were the only two days in which the restaurant was closed unless Valentine’s Day fell on one of them. Unfortunately, as it was Sunday, the banks were closed, but the police had been helpful in letting me call my credit card companies. My accounts were frozen until I could be issued a new card which, for lack of anything better, would be sent to Ethan’s address.
“You should stay with me,” Ethan said when I told him what I had done on our way out of the station. “A hotel has minimal security. My condo has locked access points and a private security force that will keep out any undesirables.”
I glanced at him, “Why do you want me to stay with you so badly?”
“I want you to be safe.” He grasped my hand, stopping us on the sidewalk. We stood outside the building, and while the sidewalk was not as busy as on a work day, there were still enough people that they had to swerve to avoid us. “Veronica,” he said, stepping close, his voice lowering. “We don’t know who these people are. I, the police, you... none of us know why they torched your place if it was them. It may be as you said, that they’re trying to get back at me. But what if they’re not? What if they’re after you?”
I hadn’t thought about that. “I think that sounds rather paranoid.”
His fingers squeezed around mine. His hand was warm. Every time he touched me, on purpose or by accident, a sizzling electric warmth leapt between us. I had felt something like it before, but nothing this strong. He looked at me, and I knew I could get lost in those hazel eyes for hours. Flecks of gold and orange swam around his pupil, glinting like gems in the sunlight.
“Listen,” he said. “Just humor me, please? My place has enough room for both of us. You can have the guest room and shower. My sleeping area is on the other side of the condo. We don’t even have to see each other if you don’t want to.”
Oh, but I do want to see you. I sighed, “I’ll think about it, okay? I’ll stay there tonight because the banks are closed and I can’t get a hotel room.”
He smiled, “Good. Now, we need to figure out your clothing situation.”
“My what?”
“Well, you only have the clothes you’re wearing now. According to the police, the fire investigators won’t be done for at least a week, and what may remain might be heavily damaged. You need clothes.”
“You are not taking me shopping.”
His smile widened, “I thought all women enjoyed shopping.” He laughed when I narrowed my eyes at him. “Come on. I know you’ll pay me back. You’re too stubborn not to.”
He started back toward the garage where he had parked the car—freshly cleaned and smelling faintly of eucalyptus—and I followed, exasperated. Once we were in the shadowy depths of the garage, I called out to him, “Why are you doing all this? I don’t understand.”
He looked over his shoulder at me, “I’ve told you—I want to make sure you’re safe and happy.”
I scowled at him, “You never seemed to care at work.”
He shrugged and spread his hands, still walking. “As I said before, we’re not at work. Who I am there, and who I am in my off hours are completely different people.”
I frowned and quickened my step so I could catch up to him, “Are you saying that you’ve always cared about me?”
He paused, and then nodded, “I care about everyone in my kitchen.”
“Oh.”
He glanced sidelong at me, “But particularly about you.”
I stopped. He kept going for a moment, realized I was no longer with him, and stopped as well. “What do you mean?”
Ethan strode toward me and I retreated, my back hitting a concrete pillar. He stopped well within my personal bubble and looked at me. His hand reached out and traced the air around my face, and the warmth of his passing flesh flared along my skin.
My breath hitched when he leaned forward, his posture like that of last night, his breath puffing out to caress my face. “Ms. Delaware,” he breathed. “I think you know why I hold a particular interest in your welfare.”
My heart seemed lodged in my throat, and I knew that my cheeks were flaming red, damn my pale complexion. When I spoke my words were breathy, “I thought you hated me.”
He shook his head minutely, “No.” He sighed, and I felt it against the skin, raising goose bumps down my spine and across my arms. “But I promised myself a long time ago that I would never again get involved with someone from work.”
“Oh,” I breathed. “Well, that’s a very practical policy.”
He smiled, teeth very white against his tanned skin. “Damn being practical.”
He closed the space between us, and I gasped into the kiss. Those hints and touches were nothing compared to the feel of his lips on mine, the fire that seemed to course through my body at the feel of him. Oh, God, it has been too long, I thought, and leaned into the kiss, into him, my hands rising to encircle his neck, to run my thumbs along the line of his jaw.
His lips pressed hard into mine, his hands coming up to encircle my waist. I opened to him and made a small noise as his tongue swept into my mouth, the kiss hard and bruising now. He pulled me against him, tight enough that I could tell he was very happy to be there. His hands traveled up my side, up my arms, and grasped my wrists, pulling them away from his neck to press against the concrete, pinning them down. My body trembled at this, and over the delicious sensations of his mouth, his body against me, I thought, oh, please tell me you do this all the time.
A car horn blared and we jumped, coming apart. Someone roared past us on their way out of the garage and yelled, “Get a room!”
I let out a shaky laugh. Ethan released my wrists and I smoothed down my clothes. I licked my lips, savoring what remained of him. Ethan stared at the man driving away before he turned back to me. His eyes were smoldering dark, his pulse jumping in his neck. I ran my hands through my hair. “Well,” I said. “I can’t say I expected that.” When he didn’t say anything, I asked, “Do you... um, do you do that often?”
“Kiss co-workers?”
“No. I—I mean, do you hold people down often?”
He gave me a long look, his dark hair shading his eyes, and then glanced away. I saw his Adams apple bob as he swallowed hard. “Yes,” he said.
I smiled and stepped toward him, touching his arm. He looked down at me. “Do you do more than that?”
He tilted his head.
“I mean, I—” I licked my lips, a blush crawling up my neck. “I don’t know how to say this in polite terms, so to hell with it.” I took a deep breath, “Are you into bondage?”
He nodded, and his eyes flicked over my face, searching. “Is that a problem?”
I shook my head, and when I spoke again, my voice had that same breathy quality it had before he had kissed me. “Oh, no,” I said. “No, that’s not a problem at all.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Veronica
We went out shopping. Ethan and I chatted a little as we did, shop talk. I think he was trying to distract me from the reason behind my need to buy a new wardrobe, but it wasn’t working well. The loss hit me at odd times. It was stupid to mourn a bunch of furniture
, books, and clothing, but I did. I had built a life over the years, and it was all gone. I had to start over.
The subject that we didn’t speak on was what had passed between us in the parking garage. The mall didn’t seem like the best place to bring up our sexual preferences, and I had never been too outspoken about my desires. The only exceptions were my ex-fiancé Jason, who had called me a freak on some occasions, and Fiona. The confession to Fiona happened about a quarter of the way through a shared bottle of vodka, and she had just laughed. Laughed until I was afraid she was going to choke to death. Both experiences had kept my lips firmly sealed over the years.
Oh, I knew there were websites that catered to people with my particular taste, but I had never felt comfortable using them. Just like online dating, it seemed too impersonal, too easy to posture and lie about one’s true intentions. I didn’t like the idea of becoming attached to someone through an online forum and finding out we had no real chemistry in real life. Fiona had told me enough stories to make me swear off the idea of online dating.
We hit up the main chain stores and ate lunch out at a place where the food was greasy and hot. Ethan never said a word about the quality, and ate as ravenously as I did.
I bought enough clothes to last about two weeks without needing to do the laundry. I would have bought more, but I felt horrible that Ethan had to foot the bill until I paid him back. I still would, no matter what happened between us. I didn’t like being beholden to anyone.
By the time we went back to his condo, the sun was starting to sink. Granted, the sun went down around five o’ clock these days, but I had the sense I had wasted an entire day. I was hungry and a bit cranky from trying on clothing. Ethan had been a saint, patient and calm throughout the entire ordeal. He had touched me on occasion when I had felt the loss particularly keen, and I was thankful. He seemed to have an almost supernatural ability to tell when I was distressed.
But for all those touches, we’d never kissed again, though I saw his gaze linger more than once on my lips. I wondered if he remembered it as often as I did, if it was consuming every other thought the way it was mine.
When we got up to his condo, Ethan said he would start on dinner while I unpacked everything. I had bought some toiletries and a new phone from the kiosk in the mall that belonged to my provider. I had to sign another two-year agreement despite the fact that I had just signed one a month previously, and Ethan had used his credit card for the purchase. I felt a little bad about it but, hey, I needed a phone.
I had just begun syncing my phone’s contacts and contents with the cloud when Ethan called out that dinner was ready. He made pasta with clams and a white wine sauce along with fresh sourdough rolls. “Would you like anything to drink with dinner?” He asked when he saw me coming.
“Yes, please.”
“White or red?”
“What are you having?”
“Sparkling Verdicchio. It complements the dish well, I think.”
“That sounds fantastic.”
He poured us a glass of wine each and motioned to the formal dining table, “I already set our places.”
He had. I noted that he had placed us across from each other instead of him at the head of the table. I smiled at that. “Thanks. I’ll do the clean-up since you did the cooking.”
“It’s quite all right, I’m used to cleaning up after myself.”
I laughed, “I know, but I’d feel better about it, especially since you’re letting me crash here.”
We sat down and served ourselves. We ate for a while in silence. I enjoyed the dinner. I had wondered if his penchant for French cooking extended to his home life, but he was just as good at traditional Italian as he was everything else. After I had eaten enough to satisfy the yawning emptiness in my stomach, I smiled at him, “This is fantastic. Thank you.”
He saluted me with his wine glass, “Thank you.” He watched me twirl more pasta around my fork for a moment. “So. I wanted to discuss your living arrangements further if you’re willing.”
I paused with the fork halfway to my mouth, then set it down. “What about it?”
“I want you to consider staying here instead of a hotel, for the reasons I stated earlier today. You’ll be safer here. The robbers got your address from your wallet, I’m sure, but they were unable to steal mine, so they have no idea of where I live. Even if they did, this is one of the more secure buildings in the city.” He took a sip of wine. “I asked you to think about it. Have you?”
I nodded. “But I have a few questions.”
He motioned me to continue.
“You realize that it may take some time to sort out the business with my homeowners insurance. Are you really willing to have a house guest for a few weeks? Or months? That seems like an awfully long time.”
“If, after the thieves have been caught, you wish to move out I will have no arguments,” he said. “But if you do wish to stay, we can discuss it.”
“Are you talking about leasing the room to me?”
“Yes,” he said, smiling. “I think I could give you a comparable rate, and it would be much less expensive than renting out a hotel room for the duration.”
I smiled, “Well, be that as it may, my bill to you is really stacking up.”
He shrugged. “Are those all your questions?”
I sighed, “No.” I looked around the room and asked the question that had been nagging at the back of my head for hours now. “I know it’s none of my business, but how do you afford all this? I thought you were renting, but I looked this place up on my phone and this building has a no sub-leasing contract. Poisson pays well, but not that well. And you haven’t even blinked over the expense of the rush-detailing on your car, or the clothes, or... hell, any of it.” I took a deep breath. “You’re not into drugs, are you?”
Ethan laughed, full-throated and hard. I blinked at him. “It’s not that odd a question,” I insisted. “There are a lot of drugs in a kitchen. Hell, some of the boys deal pot small-time to the delivery guys.”
His gaze darkened, “Which ones?”
“Uh-uh. It’s legal now, and I like those guys. They’re just trying to make a little extra cash.”
He frowned at me but, when he knew I wasn’t to be budged, began to smile again. He had an amazing smile—a smile to weaken knees. I tried not to squirm in my seat. “No, I do not deal drugs,” he said. “But my parents did leave my brother and I a fairly sizable inheritance.” He motioned to our surroundings, “Let’s just say that even without Poisson, I would be able to afford this and more.”
I swallowed. Holy shit. Hot, talented, sexy, and loaded? “I’m sorry—I wouldn’t have asked, but I had to make sure I wasn’t getting into something dangerous.”
“More dangerous than having your condo set on fire and being accosted in a dark alleyway?”
I smiled and took a sip of wine. It was tart, the grapes chased by an elusive, almost nutty quality that counterbalanced the brine and cream of the dish perfectly. “A single gal has to be careful these days,” I teased. “There are all those horror stories of innocent girls getting involved with men that have shady dealings.”
His gaze darkened, though his smile remained, “You don’t strike me as...innocent, Ms. Delaware.”
I blushed. I should have known better than to try and flirt, but I couldn’t seem to help it. If when we had met six weeks ago, he had acted as he had since last night, I would have jumped him within a day. As it was, I was a little confused still but... intrigued and, frankly, touched. He seemed realer now, less like a caricature of a nasty head chef, and it was me he had decided to show this side to.
I ran my hands over my face and down my hair. I sighed. “Okay. I’m not used to talking about this particular subject, so please bear with me.”
He smiled and leaned back in his chair, twirling the wine glass in his fingers. “Go on.”
“Um... what happened between us earlier today, the kiss? I’m still kind of sorting that out. But what I want
to know is, are you going to change your mind about me staying here if I don’t sleep with you?”
“Are you planning on doing that?”
“What?”
“Refuse to sleep with me?”
I blushed. “Maybe, maybe not.”
He laughed. “No, there are no contingencies. I am sincere when I say I want you to have a safe place to stay while the police deal with the matter and discover the perpetrators motives. I don’t mind the company,” he paused. “I’ve lived here six weeks, and I haven’t made any friends yet. It has been nice to have you around, short as our time has been. If we do not progress any further than friends, or even friendly acquaintances, I will be fine. My pride is not so easily wounded, nor my ego so inflated.”
I blinked at his candor and nodded, “Okay. Well, that’s good to know.”
“Anything else?”
I took a deep breath and said in a rush, “When you say you’re into BDSM, do you mean it?”
My cheeks were so hot they were on fire, but Ethan’s smile merely widened. “I don’t know why anyone would say they were if they were not.”
I gave a sarcastic chuckle, “Well, I’ve met one of those people.”
He tilted his head, “Really?”
I sighed and waved a hand. “My ex. You saw him the other night with his new fiancé. Jason Sanger, the singer? He said he was into a lot of things before I found out the truth.”
He leaned forward, elbows resting on the dark wood table. “Ms. Delaware,” he said.
I looked at him. His face was utterly serious, his hazel eyes darkened to an almost deep brown as he looked at me.
“I will never lie to you and, I hope, you will do me the same courtesy. When I say I am into bondage and submission, I do not lie. I am well familiar with the lifestyle, and have been a part of it for years.”
If possible, I blushed harder. “Oh. Well,” I cleared my throat. “If we’re being honest, I haven’t been a part of any community. I have had...a lot of trouble finding someone that shares my interests.”
Master Chef Page 6