A Man for All Seasons (10 page)

He wore a navy sports coat with a shirt he'd left unbuttoned instead of the white chef's coat. His hair was on the long side with a poufiness that screamed professional styling. At least that's what it screamed to Ty. He looked more like a gigolo than a chef.

Marlie didn't seem to mind. No, Marlie was all pink-cheeked and twinkling.

“Come,” Paul said, before linking her arm with his. “Let me show you where to sit.”

He led them to bar stools on either side of a stainless steel prep table. It was set for four and there was a single red rose in a bud vase.

A red rose? What a cliché.

“Marlene, please to sit here.” Paul had positioned the prep table so that it formed an L with the gas range. Marlie would sit closest in the best spot to watch him work. Paul pulled out the bar stool and put his hand on her back to guide her toward it. Marlie swayed toward him and Ty saw Paul's hand slip downward into slapping territory.

He also saw Marlie neatly sidestep as she slid onto the bar stool.

That little sidestep did a lot for Ty's peace of mind. Marlie wasn't a total novice with men.

He watched her cross her legs and smile up at Paul as he poured wine into an oversized goblet.

As Marlie sipped, Paul gestured with the wine bottle to the two places on the opposite side of the table.

Ty looked at Axelle only to find her watching him thoughtfully. “Shall we?” He put his hand in the small of her back, but Axelle moved too fast and his fingers just brushed the fabric of her dress before falling away.

“Axelle tells me that you two are old friends,” Paul said when they were seated.

“Our parents met in college and ended up living in San Diego. We'd take vacations together when Ty and I were growing up,” Marlie answered.

“What kind of vacations?” Axelle asked.

“Long ones,” Ty said.

Marlie laughed, but it wasn't a normal Marlie laugh. It was a “toss-your-hair” and “shimmy-your-shoulders” laugh.

Another flirting move Ty recognized. He'd seen women do it while sitting at bars right after they'd met a guy they were interested in. And now Marlie was doing it here. For Paul.

“Our parents liked to rent cabins at resorts and camps where there were organized children's activities. That way, they could go off and play golf or whatever and poor Ty—” Marlie sent him a look of mock sympathy “—he had to babysit me.”

“Not
babysit,
” he clarified so he wouldn't seem so old. “I mostly had to let her follow me around and see that she got to where she was supposed to be.”

“As you did tonight.” Paul wasn't looking at Ty as he said this. Oh, no. He was caressing Marlie with his eyes.

Paul raised his goblet. “To good friends and good food.”

Everyone clinked glasses. What was this, a commercial for wine coolers?

Ty sipped at the white wine, immediately recognizing that it had come from the high end of Ravigote's list, costing far more than the minimum bid for the date.

But Ty hadn't paid the minimum, had he? No, Ty had bought the whole damn package just so he could be alone with this guy's sister. Only he wasn't. So by all means, let's break out the good stuff.

“Is the wine not to your liking?” Axelle asked.

“It's great,” Ty answered. “Why?”

“You're glowering,” she murmured.

“Am I?” Probably. He'd certainly been ignoring her. He smiled and leaned in a little. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Do I?”

Clearly, Ty needed to do some damage control. She was wearing black, which she almost always wore, and she'd slicked her hair back.

Axelle's hair was short, shorter than Ty preferred on women, and he didn't particularly like the wet, stuck to the head look, but he knew it was supposed to be stylish. “You always look beautiful,” he told her.

Her expression didn't change.

Ty turned his body so he could face her. Taking a page from Paul's playbook, he leaned even closer. “If I'm ‘glowering' as you put it, it's only because I would rather be alone with you tonight.” He held her gaze so she could see his sincerity. Because he was really, really sincere.

At last Axelle smiled. Propping her elbows on the prep table's raised edge, she dangled her glass dangerously between both hands. A flirting move. He was back in. “Maybe when Marlie goes on her next date,” she promised. “I've been train
ing an assistant hostess. If the night is not too busy, perhaps she can take over for a few hours.”

Ty's blood heated.

Axelle's smile turned knowing as she watched him over the rim of her glass.

Okay. Okay, then.

Axelle broke eye contact to look across the table and Ty became aware of Marlie chattering away. Chattering about the wine.

“…and so the difference between this vintage and the 2008 was so great, the winery felt they had to mention it on the label.”

“How do you know that?” Ty asked her.

“Jason told her, most likely,” Axelle said, and Marlie nodded in confirmation. “This is one of his favorite wines.”

“Perhaps you could see if we have some of the 2008 left, Elle,” Paul suggested to his sister. “We can make our own comparison.”

“Of course.” She slid off the bar stool and headed for the walk-in, climate-controlled wine cellar.

“I have prepared an
amuse-bouche
for you,” Paul said to Marlie before he moved to the refrigerators, leaving Ty and Marlie alone at the table.

She waited until Paul's back was turned before baring her teeth in a huge, excited Marlie grin. “This is so cool!” she whispered. “I feel like a movie star, you know? Like I'm so famous I have to eat back here so I won't be bothered by the fans and paparazzi.”

That grin got to him. How could he not feel happy when she grinned at him like that? “Glad you're enjoying yourself.”

“Oh, I am. I know you probably come back here all the time, but I've never been in a restaurant kitchen before.”

She looked around as Ty considered the fact that he had
not
been in the kitchen before.

“And I don't know what it is, but having a man cook for you is just so sexy. Now I know why you perfected your bouillabaisse.”

“Didn't whatshisname cook for you?”

“Eric?” She shook her head. “He'd grill steaks or burgers, but not fix a whole meal.”

Axelle returned, carrying two bottles, and Ty reflected that he'd already shot his entire repertoire of date dishes. He was going to have to come up with another menu. He watched Paul's approach. So what if Axelle had a brother who cooked. Maybe she was tired of his cooking.

“A small gift for you.” Paul set a tiny plate in front of each of them.

“Look! It's a little package!” Marlie turned her excited face toward Paul.

He stood next to her, smiling indulgently.

“Ah, the square quail's egg is always a hit,” Axelle said.

Marlie's smile dimmed and Paul's disappeared entirely as he gave his sister a long look.

She ignored him and turned to Ty. “He cooks them in molds. Not so very difficult.”

Wow. Ty didn't know Axelle's brother, but you had to feel for the guy. What was up with her?

“Oh, do you cook, Axelle?” Marlie asked sweetly.

“No.”

She didn't?

“I can understand why you don't when you've got a brother as spectacularly talented as Paul.” Marlie beamed up at him and there was nothing indulgent about his smile now. It was a full-on I-find-you-incredibly-attractive smile.

And Marlie was smiling back.

Just when Ty was ready to say something to remind them that they weren't alone, Paul removed his suit jacket and
walked around the table to the range, rolling up the sleeves of his black shirt as he went.

“Look at the little bows.” Marlie touched the one on her present. “Green onions?”

“Yes.” Still smiling, Paul whipped a white apron around his waist, fired up a burner, and plopped a stick of butter into a copper skillet.

And, Ty grudgingly admitted, he looked pretty macho while doing it. Okay, props to the guy for being able to pull that off.

“It's so perfect.” Marlie continued to marvel over the little white cube. “I can't even tie a good bow with ribbon, let alone with vegetables.”

Just eat the thing,
Ty thought.

“Taste it,” Paul urged her. “All at once. One bite.”

“I—” Marlie bent over and retrieved her purse. Paul's eyes widened.

Marlie's neckline looked pretty spectacular from Ty's side of the table, so he could only imagine the view Paul got standing next to her.

But Ty was not going to imagine the view. In fact, Ty was going to drag his eyes away from Marlie and her neckline and pay attention to the ominously silent Axelle at his side.

Axelle's neckline was actually at her neck. But her shoulders were bare and there was a deep slit in the back. She looked sexy, but a different kind of sexy.

“You don't cook?” Ty asked her.

She gave him a hot, smoky look. “I don't have to.”

She held his gaze as she slowly sipped her wine. Talk about signals.

He heard Paul chuckle as Marlie took a picture of the little package with her cell phone.

But then Marlie popped the egg into her mouth. “Mmm,” she moaned, eyes closed, lips moving.

Paul stopped chuckling. He may have stopped breathing. The only sounds were butter sizzling and Marlie's little moans.

He needed to have the signal talk with Marlie, Ty thought.

“Your butter is burning,” Axelle said, and Paul turned off the flame.

At least the one on the stove.

Ty ate his egg. “Mmm.”

“Stop it,” Axelle said. She pushed her plate to the side, her bouche unamused.

“Tastes good,” Ty said brightly. “There's something more than just egg inside.”

“I inject flavoring before the egg solidifies,” Paul explained without looking away from Marlie.

“That's so clever.” Marlie continued being Paul's personal cheerleader. “Was that your idea?”

“Yes.” He drew out the word as he slowly stirred a sauce that had been simmering since they'd arrived.

The guy sure had moves, Ty would give him that.

Marlie seemed hypnotized by his hand. “How did you ever think of it?”

Paul took a spoon, dipped it into the sauce, and leaned on his elbows offering Marlie a taste. “I like to experiment.”

Marlie opened her mouth and he dribbled sauce on her tongue.

Ty was going to have to remember that trick.

She laughed softly and his eyes grew heavy-lidded as she swallowed and licked her lips. “Yum,” she said.

They gazed at each other. Again.

Ty could practically see heat waves coming off them and technically, they hadn't even been served the first course yet. Just a pre-appetizer.

Marlie was playing in the big leagues, here. This guy was
something else. Mouth dry, Tyler reached for his wine glass only to discover that it was empty. Wine. He needed wine. “Weren't we going to compare vintages?” he asked Axelle in a voice that was too loud.

“Indeed we were.” She picked up a waiter's corkscrew and expertly opened a second bottle.

Getting another set of glasses and pouring everyone tastes of the two wines cooled off the mutual lovefest between Marlie and Paul, not that Ty cared if they made goo-goo eyes at each other.

Marlie could make goo-goo eyes at whomever she wanted and if she chose to make them at a French hound dog who happened to be able to cook, it was nothing to Ty.

Which was a good thing because that's what they did for the rest of the evening. For some reason, Paul, a renowned chef, seemed unable to cook without Marlie tasting every step of the way and signaling her passionate approval.

He had a knack of positioning the spoon or fork or, in one memorable instance, his fingers, in a way that caused Marlie to lean forward and tilt her head back with a mesmerizing display of her throat and chest. Each time she stretched, Tyler swore her top revealed a fraction of an inch more white skin. And not just any skin, but breast skin.

The top of her dress went straight across and the little strappy sleeve things at the far edge of her shoulders weren't doing much to hold up the middle. She was dangerously close to wardrobe malfunction territory.

He was barely aware of Axelle slipping away and reappearing on the other side of the table to murmur in Paul's ear. To do so, she had to stand right next to Marlie and Ty unwillingly compared the two women.

Axelle was tall and thin and darkly exotic. His type.

Marlie was creamy and lush. And jiggled. Not his type.

Right then Marlie's gaze connected with his and his blood began to simmer.

Why? Why is she not your type?

He couldn't remember.

T
YLER LOOKED ACROSS THE TABLE
at Marlie with that stern expression he'd worn all evening. It bugged her, so she ignored him to flirt with Paul, who sent her hot looks even though he had blue eyes.

American men didn't look at her the way Paul did. They couldn't pull off the bold sensuality without it appearing ridiculous or sleazy. When Paul looked at her, Marlie knew he was thinking about sex, and not just any sex, but a lingering sensual exploration of her body… She shivered, ready to hand him a map.

Maybe it had something to do with his mouth. His lips were remarkably full. Marlie was fascinated by those lips, what they'd feel like on hers and on her body. Ty's lips were pulled taut and thin with disapproval. He could keep his lips.

Clearly, Paul was a master of seduction. He wasn't even trying, not that he'd have to try hard with her, what with the way he moved… She sighed. The man's tailor was a genius. Why didn't American men's slacks fit that way? Then there was his deep voice with that accent, the fascinating cleft in his chin, and the fact that he was cooking for her…. Marlie sighed again, very glad she was a woman.

Maybe she'd just stay with Paul tonight and Ty could take Axelle home.

Everybody would win.

“The food is not ready for plating!” Paul said loud enough to bring Marlie out of her sensual haze.

“Just plate one serving. Alicia Hartson is on her way over right now.” Axelle gripped his arm. “Think of the publicity, Paul!”

Paul flung off her hand. “And while she is here taking her pictures, the rest of the food will be ruined. The sauce will overcook and the chicken will get cold!” He added something in French. Brother and sister glared at each other.

“It's okay,” Marlie stood and looked across the table. Ty had been very quiet. For once, he was looking at Axelle and not at her, but he didn't appear any happier.

“Ty?” His eyes swiveled toward her. “Help me clear away the extra glasses and dishes.”

His brows drew together.

“The reporter will want to have a nice backdrop for the taping,” Marlie explained to him and the glaring siblings. “I've been through this twice now. I know the drill.”

“Gotcha.” He moved the bottles to another cart.

“Clean glasses?” Marlie asked Axelle. “We don't want lip prints or smudges.” Axelle pointed.

Marlie got fresh napkins while she was at it and by the time Alicia Hartson and her cameraman arrived, the setting looked as much like a magazine cover as Marlie could make it.

Because, after all this was over, Ravigote was still her web client. She had a vested interest in anything that boosted the restaurant's business.

The interruption sure killed the mood, though. Probably not a bad thing since she and Paul had taken flirting as far
as it could go in public, especially when the public was his sister and Marlie's parental-acting roommate.

In spite of Paul's concern, the food was not ruined, although Marlie might have been influenced by extreme hunger. Paul and Axelle were extremely photogenic and Alicia Hartson spent enough time in Ravigote's kitchen to tape a documentary. Even Ty was included, as the purchaser of the date. He didn't say much, though. Marlie knew him well enough to know something was bothering him, but she couldn't figure out what.

And, to be completely and totally honest, she was having too much fun with Paul to concern herself with Ty's dark mood.

The man was a walking talking French cliché. He had a bit of a temper, probably a big temper, but for the most part, he kept it in check. All that energy had to go somewhere and right now, it was put to flirting and being sexy and making Marlie feel sexy and womanly. Womanly, as in making every part of her aware that she was female and he was male and he liked that about her. He reveled in it and invited her to revel in it, too. He was sensual, and made Marlie realize that she hadn't been living a sensual life. Sex was only part of it, which by the way, she was keenly aware of living without, as well. But Paul, hot though he was, seduced all the senses. Obviously taste and smell, inviting her to enjoy the steps that went into the lovely food he prepared, and sight, because he didn't just plop the food on a plate; he artfully and whimsically arranged it. She smiled when she remembered the square quail egg present.

There wasn't music playing in the kitchen, but he used his deep voice, with the alluring accent, to charm her. Then there was touch. Ah. Paul was the touchy sort, holding her chin as he fed her bites of food, using his fingers to check seasoning and actually offering her a quick taste by letting her lick one.
And the amazing thing was that it didn't seem awkward or hokey at all. It was just right for the moment.

And the food was absolutely incredible.

The promised chicken three ways consisted of a layered chicken terrine with a chipotle sauce. Paul had made it in the shape of a chicken, which Marlie sliced open on camera to reveal flavored layers inside. The second way was a roasted hen covered in saucy goodness, but the third way was her favorite. Nachos. But not any nachos. The chips were pieces of crispy fried chicken skin and he'd topped them with some gooey French cheese and peppers. Texas-Continental fusion at its best.

If anyone had ever told her she'd crave chicken skin, she'd have thought they were crazy. All those years of cutting off the fatty skin because it was bad for you—what a waste. Calories? Who cared about calories?

Marlie was on sensual overload and ready for something or someone to flip her safety valve.

Paul. He'd make her forget she had a safety valve. And as a bonus, he'd probably cook her breakfast.

They were at the end of the meal. He sat next to her, fist propping his jaw, watching as she ate the last of some incredible chocolatey dessert. She licked her lips and sent him a “take-me-now” look, just in case he had any lingering doubts about her availability.

He chuckled and murmured, “Did you enjoy your dinner,
ma petite?
”

“Oh, yes. I'm sorry it has to end.” Which was his cue to lean close and whisper that it didn't have to end
quite
yet.

He smiled, a soft, fond smile. “I am so glad I've made you happy.”

Yes, but she could be happier. Much happier. He could be happier, too.
Every
body could be happier.

Paul raised his water glass and said, “I believe we can count
Three French Hens a success.” He gestured across the table in a toast and the others raised their glasses, too. Because, oh, yes, Ty and Axelle were still there, although Marlie had forgotten about them. Why hadn't Ty taken Axelle away?

“Ma petite?”
Paul raised his eyebrows at her, his eyes warm and friendly.

Oh. Okay. She got it. Marlie picked up her glass. She was also drinking water, since she'd had her limit of wine a while back. She'd wanted no accusations of drunken behavior from Mr. Killjoy across the table. “To Chef Paul, for the best meal I've eaten in my entire life.” It may have been. It may not have been. But that wasn't the point, Marlie understood as Paul inclined his head to accept everyone's praise.

The point was that he'd called her
“ma petite”
which meant he didn't see her as a potential bed partner. And the hot looks of earlier had been banked to a fond glow.

In other words, he'd been acting. Putting on a show, she realized. Not out of malice or to lead her on, but simply because it added to the enjoyment of the moment.

But the moment was ending and Marlie knew she'd never see him again unless she came to eat at his restaurant, which she couldn't afford. Or, she thought darkly, as she looked across the table, if Ty married Axelle and Marlie ran into Paul at the wedding.

Assuming she'd be invited.

 

A
CROSS THE TABLE
, Ty saw the look Marlie gave Paul. No. Seriously?
Seriously?
She couldn't tell the guy was just playing her?

Or…she knew and didn't care?

Sure, maybe she didn't care now, when she was caught up in all the attention he'd been giving her, but in the morning she would. Marlie would want to snuggle and talk about the kind of drawer pulls and the right wood for their future home,
but Paul would callously send her on her way with a cup of coffee and a cold croissant that he probably hadn't even made himself.

The thought of Marlie in her bright red dress having to call a cab, or worse, call him, because Axelle's brother thought he was too busy and too important to take her home, made Ty grit his teeth.

Marlie wasn't the one-night-stand type. She was looking for love and marriage and this guy wasn't. So far, she hadn't picked up on that.

Tyler set his glass down and turned to Axelle. She saw what was happening, didn't she? Axelle met his gaze as she sipped water and then went back to observing her brother and Marlie.

She knew.

Ty stood and offered her his hand, ignoring the question in her eyes until he'd led her into the darkened dining room.

“What is it?” Axelle pressed the switch that lit the area next to the door, leaving the rest of the room in darkness.

“You've got to say something to your brother.”

“What about?”

She knew what about. “Tell him to leave Marlie alone.”

“Why?” Axelle crossed her arms, clearly not a woman who responded to orders.

“Because he's just playing with her. I don't want her to get hurt,” Ty said.

“Marlie won't get hurt. She can't possibly believe he would ever be interested in a real relationship with her.”

Ty didn't like the way that sounded. “Why wouldn't Paul be interested in a relationship with her?” he asked, forgetting that he didn't want that either. “She's smart, she comes from good people, she's easy to live with, and on top of that, she's a total babe.”

Axelle made a sound in the back of her throat. “She lacks sophistication.”

“Paul wasn't exactly staring at her sophistication.”

Axelle lifted her shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “Yes, she's very obvious.”

“Obviously what?”

“Her type will always appeal to less discerning men.” She looked him directly in the eyes. “To you, perhaps.”

Ty took a step backwards. “Marlie is a long-time friend, Axelle.”

“Friend, is it?” Her voice rose. “I saw the way you looked at her. All during dinner, you stared at her. I might as well have not been in the room.”

“You're jealous!” And if she was jealous, that meant she cared about him. Ty instantly forgave her for trading a night alone with him for a publicity opportunity. “You're jealous of Marlie!” He could kiss Marlie and her blond head.

“I certainly am not!” Axelle snapped.

But he laughed and hugged her stiff body to him. “Come on,” he said. “Let's go rescue Marlie from your brother.”

 

“W
E WERE HAVING ESPRESSO
,” Marlie grumbled for the eightieth time since they'd left the restaurant. “You didn't even let Paul put on my charm!”

“You'd had enough of Paul's charm.”

“I can't believe you came swooping in as if you were my father and you'd caught Paul and me necking on the front porch!”

“More than your neck was involved!” When Ty and Axelle had returned to the kitchen, they'd found Paul bent over Marlie with one hand traveling up her thigh and his tongue down her throat, not that Ty had actually seen Paul's tongue, but he was familiar with the technique.

“You completely humiliated me!” She stormed up the
stairs, switched on the light and kept going until she was in the kitchen.

Ty climbed the steps. Marlie in angry motion was something to see and Ty enjoyed seeing it. Lots of jiggling. So he was a man who lacked refinement. What else was new?

She was mad at him. He'd overreacted, but he'd done so in her best interests. He'd apologized. Multiple times. He was finished apologizing for that. There was bound to be something new to apologize for before the string of dates was over.

Marlie dropped her purse on the counter and opened the junk drawer. Grabbing the needle-nosed pliers, she attacked the tiny silver charm Paul had given her.

“Ow!” She grabbed her hand. “Now look what you made me do!”

“I made you pinch yourself?”

“Yes!”

They both knew he hadn't, but Ty apologized anyway. See? He'd known there'd be something else. “Let me have the charm.” He held out his hand.

“No!”

“Come on, Marlie. Don't be childish.”

“I wasn't childish earlier and you didn't like that, either.”

“Marlie.” Exasperated, he grabbed for her hand. Marlie jerked away from him and then gasped as the charm went flying. A second later, a faint ping sounded. “Now look what you've done!”

Ty closed his eyes. He was going to remember this moment the next time he was struck with the urge to be nice. Then he opened his eyes to see Marlie on her hands and knees, face near the floor, butt in the air, looking for the charm.

He was going to remember this moment, too.

She was killing him. He sighed deeply and dropped to the floor to help her look for the charm.

“This floor is filthy,” she said. “I don't suppose it ever occurred to you to get out the mop.”

“Guilty,” he said. “I'll pay for half if you want to hire a house-cleaning service.” He could be reasonable.

Marlie could not. “We don't need a house-cleaning service. We need you to run the vacuum around or grab a dust rag every once in a while.”

“Okay, but the house never seems to get that dirty.”

“Why do you think that is? The house fairies?” She tilted her head up to give him a murderous glance that was totally spoiled by how good her breasts looked. They were squeezed upward by her dress and with Marlie on all fours, gravity added a bonus special effect. He was really a fan of gravity right now.