Devour Me (Master Chefs Series #1) (13 page)

“The
south of France, huh?  Sounds amazing.”

“Very.”
He fidgeted a bit and seemed suddenly nervous. “You know, I’ve really enjoyed
working in class with you. Girls sometimes… they don’t like to experiment. 
They don’t dare vary a recipe. You’re different. You’re bold. You like to take
chances, do things differently…”

Taryn
wanted to argue the point, but had to admit, she’d known many women who didn’t
change an iota on a recipe, whereas the few guys she’d known who liked to cook
were constantly improvising.

“But
you,” Henri went on, “you are very… how do you say… daredevil in the kitchen. 
Like the other day when you put olives in your…”

“Oh,”
Taryn called out suddenly.  “Hold on a second.”  She’d just caught sight of
Errol walking out of the building with Xaviera.  She hurried to the exit but
stopped short of walking out.  For a breathless moment she simply stood there,
staring at them through the glass doors.

Errol
smiled, so charming and beautiful, while his ex-lover drizzled sensuality all
over him.  Did he have a hard-on right at this moment?  Was he imagining all
the things he could do to her?

Taryn
went pale and her gut jumped to her throat.  Could he be imagining all the
things he
would
do to her?  Was he planning on leaving with this
walking-talking sex bomb?

“You
okay?”  Henri said as he walked up beside her.

Flushed
she turned to him.  “Yeah.  I’m sorry about that.  I think I was feeling a
little… hot and… I wanted to rush out to get some air, but I’m better now. 
All’s good.”  She patted him affectionately on the arm and guided him to the
auditorium where Errol was set to speak.

“Isn’t
it another hour before he starts?” Henri asked.

“A
little less than that, but I’m tired of standing and want to make sure we have
a good seat.  After all, he is our teacher and we should be there to support
him.  I’m surprised the rest of his class isn’t here.  I mean, even if we
weren’t invited, they should all know this is going on, and they should want to
be here.  Well, who knows?  Maybe we’ll spot some of them later. Maybe when
Errol gets up on that stage they’ll all come running.”  Taryn realized the
extent of her ramblings and abruptly shut up. Without daring to look his way,
she wondered if Henri was aware of what was happening between herself and
Errol.

“I
wouldn’t be surprised,” Henri said. “I’m sure they’d all want to know what he
has to say. I mean he is one of the greatest chefs in the world.”

For
the next forty-five minutes they talked about anything and nothing, chatting
and telling each other little anecdotes that had brought them where they were. 
The seats around them slowly filled up and before long a microphone screeched
with feedback.

“
Mesdames. 
Messieurs..  C’est avec grand plaisir que je vous presente, Chef King
.”

Errol
was greeted with warm applause as he took to the stage. He looked better than
ever and Taryn couldn’t believe she had managed to get involved with someone
like him. That Chef Errol King, this highly-regarded, sought-after sexy man,
was fucking her every night. For all the heartache and turmoil he caused her,
she had to admit… there wasn’t a dull moment with him. She was aroused just
watching him speak, the passion he had for life and cooking making him more and
more attractive, along with the commanding strong presence he had onstage. He
ruled the stage, and the crowd loved him.

“
Merci. 
Merci
.”  The applause died down and Errol scanned his audience.  “
Si je
suis ici parmi vous aujourd’hui
…”

Taryn
leaned closer to Henri. “I didn’t realize he’d be speaking in French the whole
time.”

“Want
me to translate?”

It
would be impossible for him to translate everything Errol said. She shrugged. 
“Give me just the highlights.”  I’ll get the rest from him tonight, she told
herself.

At
the end of his speech the audience applauded and asked for more, but he humbly
bowed and left the stage. Taryn rose to go see him, but quickly noticed that
Xaviera had beat her to him.

She
finally had to resign herself.  With Henri and Xaviera at the festival, Taryn
would not have the chance to spend any time with Errol.

“I
want to go congratulate him,” Henri said as he took a hold of Taryn’s arm and
led her in the direction of the sexually charged couple.

Taryn
wanted to find a way out, but nothing came to mind.  Smiling like a dimwit, she
stood by Henri as he thanked Errol for the inspiring speech.

“Thank
you.  I appreciate that, Henri.”  Errol’s gaze swept over the young man than
crossed over to Taryn.

She
saw the tiniest hint of a question in his eyes and was suddenly happy to have
Henri at her side.  Checkmate, she thought.

“Let
me introduce you to
Mademoiselle Xaviera Tourneau
.”

Taryn
wanted to gag.  Even on a fresh-faced young country boy like Henri, the woman had
an effect. Henri turned beet red and fidgeted horribly as the woman smiled and
winked at him.

“
Enchanté
,”
Henri finally said as he extended his hand to her.

“
Un
plaisir
,” Xaviera returned. She shook his hand, lingering far longer than
was necessary. She turned to Errol.  “Your students, no?”

“Yes,”
Errol said.  “That’s right.  These are two of my students.”

“Have
you told them?”

Taryn
looked at Errol, trying to keep the horrified sensation she felt down in her
gut from showing in her eyes.

“Well,
I wanted to keep it as a surprise for Monday, but, hell.  Miss Tourneau will be
taking over the pastry classes at the Institute for the next three weeks.”

Surely
she’d gone as white as a sheet, Taryn thought as Errol’s words echoed in her
head. Next three weeks… this woman would be… in school… around Errol… damn it,
no. This woman was a hellcat, a slut. A damned sex goddess, and it was clear
she wanted Errol.

Chapter 14

T
he moment
Mademoiselle Tourneau
stood
in front of the class she’d won over every male student and had made an enemy
of every girl.  Suddenly, students who’d never had the slightest interest in
pastry were lining up to take her classes.

Sulking,
Taryn moved to the back of the class.  She didn’t want to be within range of
the woman’s toxic aura.

“
Bonjour
,”
she purred.  “
Je suis Mademoiselle Xaviera Tourneau
.”

Francois,
the hotheaded playboy seated next to Taryn leaned forward to whisper to Henri,
“Think we can call her Madame X?”

“
Les
pattiseries, ma specialité, sont
…”

Taryn
soon lost track as Xaviera went on in quick French. Most of the classes at the
Institute were available in English and many were bilingual.  Taryn had taken
care to avoid the classes given exclusively in French. 

Only
when a few other girls complained did Xaviera throw in a bit of English.

“
Premièrement
,”
Xaviera said, then added with a condescending roll of her eyes, “Firstly…
les
outils
… the tools of pastry making.”

One
by one she pulled utensils out of a drawer and showed them to the class, asking
students to name the utensil and explain how it was used.  After the ever
present rolling pin, pastry brush and fluted pastry trimmer, she pulled out
what looked like two metal balls, one larger than the other, on the ends of a
small wooden handle.

While
a few hands flew up to give the answer, Xaviera directed her gaze menacingly at
Taryn.  “
Quelle est le nom de cet outil
?”

Feeling
targeted, her mouth went dry.  She’d seen the tool once before, but had no idea
what it was called and couldn’t remember what it was used for.  After a moment
of excruciating silence, Taryn finally shook her head.  “I don’t know.”

“You
don’t know?” Xaviera said.  Her eyes remained on Taryn, ridiculing her.  She
held the utensil up for a better look.  “You’ve been taking this class for, how
long?  Three weeks?  Are you telling me that
Monsieur Bouthillier
never
brought out such an instrument?”

Monsieur
Bouthillier
, the teacher who’d introduced them all to pastry making, had
never had such a utensil, Taryn wanted to say.

“How
do you intend to pass this class if you don’t know the basics?” Xaviera went
on.

All
eyes were on Taryn as she sought to slide under her desk and disappear.

“Where
are you from?” Xaviera snapped.

“New York.”

Madame
X grimaced, shot a disdainful glance at the ceiling and tossed the funny
looking tool on her desk.  “Well, that explains everything.”  She crossed her
arms in front of her, lifting her bosom until it almost burst out of her top.

Incensed,
Taryn balled her fists under her desk, outraged that this woman could treat her
in such a way.

“I
strongly suggest you learn your way around the kitchen if you want to pass this
class.” Without bothering to look up at Taryn, Xaviera shot out the
unmistakable threat.

Taryn
simply nodded while her heart pounded out its fury. There was nothing she could
say to the woman who now held the results of this class in her hands.

“Okay,”
Xaviera finally said with an annoyed cluck of her tongue.  “Who then can tell
me what this is?”

Henri
put his hand up and looked apologetically at Taryn. “I don’t remember the name,
but it is used to make decorative flower petals and leaves.”

“
Bien
,”
Xaviera said with a pleased nod.  “
Très bien
.”  She shot a victorious
glare at Taryn before going on to the next tool.

By
the end of the class, Taryn was exhausted.  The tension in the class was
palpable, or at least it felt that way to her. Did everyone else feel it? she
wondered.

After
lunch, Taryn headed to Errol’s class, but stopped abruptly when she saw Madame
X in the room with him. She sat on his desk, her skirt pulled provocatively
high on her thigh as Errol sat in his chair looking at her with wicked eyes.

Taryn
swallowed the uncomfortable lump in her throat. This was only the first day
with Xaviera.  How was she going to survive the next three weeks?  Not only did
the woman deliberately berate her in front of the whole class, but now she was
openly going after… After what? Taryn thought.  After her man?

Damn
it.

She
waited until a few other students entered the class before going in to take her
seat. Madame X seemed unperturbed by the male audience that now watched her
with open interest. If anything, she thrived on it. She leaned toward Errol,
exposing her lush breasts to him.

The
whole room saw him glanced down at her breasts and Francois dared an envious
whistle.  It was enough to shake Errol out of his lust-filled gaze and take
note of the class. He rose, said a few hushed words to Xaviera who turned and
winked at the class before walking out. Her hips swayed an open invitation to
all.

She
was rewarded with a chorus of appreciative whistles.

Damn
the bitch. Taryn wanted to throw something hard and heavy to the back of her
head.  Instead, she turned her attention to Errol who started the class. She
quickly found that she couldn’t concentrate on the lesson. Visions of Errol
with Madame X continually played in her mind. Her voluptuous breasts. That tiny
little waist. Those alluring hips. Damn, the woman had everything to please a
man.  It was hard to imagine how Errol could resist. 

Had
they already?  Would they?

Would
he?

Taryn’s
newly awakened sexuality felt threatened by this woman who’d obviously been playing
the game for a long time. The tricks she must know to please a man.

“Taryn.”

The
tricks she must have used on Errol, again and again.

“Taryn!”

No
doubt Errol would get bored with Taryn’s limited knowledge. How long before he
succumbed to…?

“The
class is over, Taryn. You can go now.”

Taryn
looked at Errol. The class was empty and Errol stood waiting to leave.

“Are
you all right?”

She
croaked out an unconvincing, “Yeah,” and put her things in her bag.

Errol
came to her desk and looked at her, his eyes questioning. 

Before
he could voice a question, Taryn shrugged. “I’ll talk to you about it tonight.”
She looked pointedly at him.  “Will you be home tonight?”

“What
a silly question. Of course I’ll be home tonight. Where else would I…?”  He
grinned knowingly.

Feeling
flustered, panicked and frustrated, Taryn pulled her bag over her shoulder and
pulled her thick technical cooking book to her chest.  “I’ll see you later,”
she said as she turned and walked out.

That
night she arrived to find Errol already at home.

“You
look relieved,” he commented.

“A
long day.  Just happy to finally be home.”

“Sorry
I couldn’t wait around to give you a ride.  I knew you had that last, late
class and I wanted to get home to try out something new.”

“That’s
okay.”  She looked at the number of utensils set out on the counter.  “What are
you doing?”

“I
got the strange impression that you weren’t very attentive in class today.”

“I
guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

“You
were off in space somewhere for the entire class,” Errol went on. “I thought
I’d give you a quick run-through of today’s lesson.”

Taryn’s
gaze swept over the array of cooking implements and noticed the little ball
thing Madame X had humiliated her with.

“Today,”
Errol said. “We took a look at efficiency in the kitchen.  Most students learn
to cook at home, at their leisure. They take their sweet time; finely chopping
an onion, judiciously stirring a sauce, methodically sautéing mushrooms.  And,
of course, they take an eternity plating the whole damn thing.  They have all
the time in the world to create, concoct and stage the perfect meal for their
friends and family… who, by the way, are never a good judge of true culinary
skills.