“Holy crap is he spicy.” She sighed, going boneless just remembering what he’d done to her last night.
Megan laughed. “I don’t know details and I feel like I may have to fan myself just based on your expression.”
“You don’t even know.”
“What I don’t know is why you’re so down on the party if it’s getting you closer to him?”
“Because he’s leaving for New York.”
“That throws a wrench, doesn’t it?” Megan bit her lip, thinking. “When does he leave?”
“Right after the party.”
“There are law practices in New York,” her friend pointed out.
She imagined leaving Freya. Did not compute. “But my family is here. I think I could live somewhere else for a short period of time, but ultimately I’d be miserable if I couldn’t see my sister whenever I wanted.”
“That’s not something I can relate to. Having a continent between me and my sister is a happy thing.” Megan shrugged. “It sounds like your situation is impossible. You better just screw him out of your system in the next week and a half.”
She rolled her eyes and stood up. “Don’t ever give up your job to become a relationship counsellor.”
“Fat chance of that,” Megan declared cheerfully.
At the door, Anna turned around. “So you’re coming to my party, right?”
“I have theater tickets for that night.”
“Damn it.” She left, wondering if she should hire guests. What was a little more money? She was all in, right?
Right. And she was going to take Scott’s advice and reshuffle the deck.
Anna strode back to her office, sat at her desk, and texted Max. I’d like to arrange for a tasting. My place. Tomorrow night. 10pm late enough for you?
His reply arrived seconds later.
See you then.
“
Yes
.” She pumped her fist in the air. Leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes and pictured tomorrow night. It was going to be delicious.
Max arrived on her doorstep carrying a box filled with plastic containers.
Normally, Anna would have been all over the food. She may hate to cook but she loved to eat. But the only thing in her sights was Max.
He looked delicious, and she hoped he was on the menu tonight.
“Are you going to let me in?” he asked mildly.
Was she ever. She moved aside to let him in. “The kitchen is to the left of the landing, all the way down the hall.”
“Okay.” He walked up the stairs ahead of her.
She followed after him, ogling gleefully.
In the kitchen, he set the box on the counter and turned to face her. “I need to apologize, Anna.”
The pleasure she’d felt at his closeness evaporated in a rush of disappointment. Narrowing her eyes, she poked her finger at his chest. “You are
not
. Don’t even go there.”
“I acted unprofessionally. I shouldn’t have—”
“You didn’t do anything that I didn’t want,” she said over him.
He crossed his arms, looking down at her. His body language was guarded but his eyes told a different story. “We—”
She pressed herself against him, brought his head down to hers, and kissed him.
He responded immediately, his arms winding around her and catching her up against him. He set her down on the counter. “We can’t do this again.”
She nibbled on the skin exposed from his collar. “You’d be more convincing if you didn’t kiss me back.”
His hands slid under her blouse. “I have a weakness where you’re concerned.”
“Maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be.” She kissed him again to prove it.
“The food will get cold if we don’t get to it,” he murmured, his fingers toying with the strap of her bra.
“Then we should eat.” She reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. She tossed it aside and took off her own shirt. As Max undid her bra, she reached for one of the containers he’d brought with him. “What’s this?”
“
Zabaglione
.” He kissed his way across her shoulder and to her neck as he ran his hands over her bared torso.
She gasped, from his mouth rather than the airy custard. “I love your
zabaglione
.”
“I know.” He undid her jeans and tugged.
Lifting her hips, she let him pull her jeans and underwear off as she opened the lid. “We should start with dessert.”
“The customer should always have what she wants.” He dipped his fingers into the sauce and smeared a thick line across her chest, ending in a dob over a nipple. It felt cool and silky, and she knew that whenever she smelled vanilla from then on she was going to get really turned on.
She watched him lick away the
zabaglione
, sucking away every last bit from the tip of her breast. By the time he was finished, she was breathing heavily and so ready for more.
Reaching for the container, she smeared some on him, reciprocating, licking and nibbling it away until his face was flushed and his eyes had that look in them, like he could feast on her forever.
“What else did you bring?” she asked as she unbuttoned his pants.
“Gratin.” He extracted a larger container and opened the lid. “Shall I serve you?”
“Yes please.”
He scooped a bit out with his fingers and held them out to her.
Keeping her gaze on his, she let him feed her, humming at the creamy buttery taste of the potatoes. “Decadent. Want some?”
His expression said he wanted way more than potatoes. “Yes.”
All her girly parts sat up and rejoiced, but she told them to be patient. Putting a warm blob of gratin on her belly, she leaned back on her elbows and silently invited him to taste.
Holding on to her hips, he bent down and slowly ate away the morsel, teasing her with flicks of his tongue on her skin. “You were right,” he said against her abdomen, “this is decadent.”
“We should take this up a notch.”
He stood up straight. For a panicked moment, she thought he was stopping, but then he withdrew a condom from his pocket.
Her gaze flew to his. Hope and happiness made her breath catch. “You’d planned for this.”
“It was inevitable.” He covered himself and took hold of her hips to pull her closer to the edge of the counter. “I have no willpower where you’re concerned, Anna.”
“Good.” She hooked her heels on his thighs, took him in her hands, and guided him exactly where he belonged.
He leaned over her and thrust in ever-so-slowly. His hand framed her face, watching her, as he rolled his hips into hers.
She moaned, arching her head back, feeling him in all the right places. “I always loved it like this.”
“I know.” He kissed her, mimicking the rhythm of his slow strokes inside her. His palm brushed over the tip of her breast.
She gasped, arching into his touch. “Please, Max.”
Knowing what she was asking for, he rolled her nipple between his fingers.
The electric shocks shot through her, head to toe, quick and sharp. Her arms swept out and up, and she vaguely heard the clatter of stuff hitting the floor. “Don’t stop,” she said, just in case.
“Never.” He kept the rhythm, teasing her with his fingers and tongue, kissing away what little breath she had left in her lungs.
She closed her eyes, feeling the world tilt as the wave of her climax began to rise up. She cried out as it swept over her, encompassing and powerful. She felt Max harden impossibly more, and then stiffen, following her with a long, low groan. Spent, he covered her, and she could feel his heartbeat fast and strong, in tune with hers.
She wrapped her arms around him tight. A tide of emotion flooded her chest, and she didn’t have to examine it to know it was love—a true love that had grown more profound since they’d been together last.
And he was leaving.
She cleared her throat. “We made a mess.”
“Yes.” He kissed her shoulder. “You have potato in your hair.”
Except that wasn’t the sort of mess she’d meant.
Anna thought she’d have to make the next move, so she was totally shocked when Max called her at work the day after their “tasting” in her kitchen.
“Meet me tonight,” he said in his sexy low accent.
She leaned back in her office chair and crossed her legs. She’d worn a saucy emerald green dress she’d bought on impulse a year ago, and it showed off her legs nicely. “What sort of incentive are you offering?”
“I’ll feed you. You’re always hungry.”
She grinned. “Some things don’t change.”
“I thought maybe you’d come here late and then we could go to my house and make another mess in the kitchen.”
Her face flushed thinking about the night before. “The clean up was worth it.”
“Say you’ll come tonight, Anna.”
“I hope so,” she said softly, hanging up. She whirled her chair around and stared out the window. She saw the goofy smile on her face in the window’s reflection. She couldn’t help it. Max made a move.
Maybe—
She sighed hopefully. Just
maybe
.
“What’s that look about?” Megan said as she strutted into the office and sat on the edge of the desk.
Anna turned around, beaming. “What look?”
“The one that looks like you swallowed a canary. Or just plain swallowed.” Megan smirked, pumping her patent-red heeled foot.
“Max wants me to meet him tonight.”
“Mr. Spicy?” Her friend’s brows raised. “So the party is still on, at least in one way or another.”
“The party.” Anna smacked a hand against her forehead. “I need to invite some people.”
“You haven’t done that? It’s right around the corner.”
“No one’s been available. No worries. I’ll call my sister and her best friend, and some law school buddies of mine.” She made a note on a legal pad. “But you didn’t come in here to talk about my love life.”
“I like how you suddenly have a love life. Way to go, kid.” Then she held out a folder. “I came here to give you this. It’s a venture I’m thinking of investing in. I’m just not sure about it. I thought I’d pick your brain.”
“I’ll look it over this afternoon.” She studied the woman. “Still haven’t found the perfect project?”
“No, and it’s not for lack of trying. But I feel like it’s close, like something will fall into my lap.” She flashed her jaunty smile and straightened her pencil-thin white skirt as she stood up. “I’d tell you to have fun tonight, but that’s a foregone conclusion.”
It was, and Anna couldn’t wait.
She arrived at the restaurant late, just before Max said they’d be closing. Not surprisingly, the room was still fairly packed full of happy-looking people lingering over their food.
The hostess glanced up as Anna walked in and, based on her expression, she looked like she was about to tell her the kitchen was closed. But then an expression of recognition lit her face, and the woman said, “You’re here for Max.”
Anna smiled, liking the sound of that. “Yes.”
“He’s busy at the moment, but he told me to be on the lookout for you. You can take a seat at the bar. Oscar will get you anything you need.”
Assuming Oscar was the bartender she’d chatted with before, she thanked the hostess and made her way back. She took a free stool at one end and smiled at Oscar.
He smiled. “You’re back. Max said you’d be in. Make yourself at home. We’ve got you covered.”
She arched her brow. “Really?”
He winked at her as he poured a glass of red wine and set it before her. “You’ll like it.”
If it was from Max, she had no doubt.
A few minutes later, several small plates were set in front of her, all of it looking and smelling like culinary masterpieces.
Oscar leaned on the counter in front of her, nodding at the food. “You’re getting the star treatment. None of that is on the menu. Enjoy. Let me know if you need anything.”
She picked up what looked like a tiny bread roll and popped it in her mouth. The bread was flaky and light, and it exploded in a creamy herbed profusion in her mouth. She hummed and quickly ate two more.
“Are you a regular here?” a feminine voice said from next to her.
She turned her head, blinking when she recognized the woman as the one she thought Max was dating, but who was actually sending him to New York. The puffy bite of cheese-filled bread turned to glue in her mouth. After a couple attempts to swallow, she managed to say, “I know Max.”
“He’s an amazing chef.” The woman lifted her martini and sipped. “My restaurant group is funding him to open his own place in New York.”
“Isn’t that risky?” Anna asked out of curiosity.
“Definitely.” The woman waved an elegant hand that had a honking diamond on it, but not on her ring finger. “One in four restaurants fail in their first year. It’s rare to have a winning combination that lasts past the first blush of the grand opening. It’s easy to fall flat, and it’s easy to make a big splash, but staying on top is virtually impossible.”
“But you’re still willing to give Max a chance.”
“Max produces excellent food and runs a tight ship. More importantly, he inspires loyalty in his employees, which is unheard of in the restaurant business.”
“Max is magic,” Anna agreed reluctantly, because it was true.
“He is.” The woman smiled. “Our group feels he’s worth the risk, so we’re offering him
carte blanche
. His own design, his own menu, his own staff. We’re very excited about the possibilities. We think he can be the next Wolfgang Puck. Max has that sort of charisma and star quality.”
“It really is the opportunity of a lifetime,” Anna said quietly.
“That’s the perfect description. There’s no telling where this could lead. If he’s successful, and I believe he will be, he’ll be able to write his own ticket, to do whatever he wants in the future.” The woman’s cell lit up, and she glanced at it before sliding off her barstool. “Excuse me.”
Anna returned to her food but her appetite was gone. Instead she picked up her wine and drank a little, not really tasting it. She looked at the glass and smiled nostalgically—sadly—as she remembered how Max wouldn’t serve her wine when they first met, even though she’d been twenty-one. She’d assumed it was because he considered her too young, but he just hadn’t wanted her to drive after she’d been drinking. The first time he’d poured her a glass of wine was the first night they’d slept together.