Take Me Home Tonight (7 page)

“Hey, son. Takin' a break?”

He nodded. “What's up?”

Mimi took a step back, a lock of hair falling across her rosy cheek. She pushed it aside with the back of a flour-dusted hand. “Your dad brought me a crate full of the dreaded green matter.”

Terrence laughed, pulling a bright yellow squash out of the crate. “She's either color blind or she's not giving me a chance here.”

Mimi lifted a thinly sliced wedge of eggplant. “Oh, we're doing it. Lunch
and
dinner.” She tried again to push that piece of hair off her face. “But I'm making Terrence stay so when the guys come gunning for me, he'll take the brunt of the blows.”

“Violent group you got here.” His dad's big grin was infectious.

And goddamn, it felt good to see him happy like that.

Raised voices outside had them all looking out the window.
In the middle of the yard, the band stood in a semicircle facing Dak and Sam. The conversation grew heated.

“Looks like things're coming to a head,” his dad said quietly. “You talk to 'em?”

“Yeah.”

His dad clapped him on the shoulder to show his approval.

“What's going on?” Mimi asked.

Sam broke from the group, jogging back to the studio. It'd taken months to convert the old barn into a state-of-the-art facility—and Slater had spared no expense. He wasn't just a rock star—he was a musician. He'd be making music the rest of his life.

And that was one of the best things about these guys—it was all about the music for them. Not the fame or rock star lifestyle. Calix hadn't worked with many bands that got it the way these guys did.

“Things aren't working out with Dak,” Calix said.

“So why aren't you out there with them?” Mimi asked.

Because he couldn't get more involved. He wrote and arranged songs, played with them . . . He practically lived with them. He had to draw the line somewhere.

He could feel his dad's smile but refused to look. “Not my place.”

She made a sound of exasperation. “You've worked with them a long time. They think the world of your talent. Of course it's your place.”

He stepped closer to her, counting on his size to quash her attitude. “Not my band.”

Didn't work on this one, though. Mimi tipped her chin to look at him. “They need you.” That hair slid forward again, and she blew out the side of her mouth to push it away.

He tucked the hair behind her ear, stroking it a few times to secure it. Her eyes widened, her lips softened, parted.

“I said my piece.” He spoke quietly. “They'll work it out.” She was so fucking beautiful. His body hummed with a desire that was growing harder to tamp down.

“Looks like they're coming in,” his dad said.

Stepping back to the counter, Mimi dredged the eggplant in the flour mixture, then dropped it in a skillet of hot oil.
“Better get this in the oven. They'll probably want to eat lunch earlier. How long will it take to cook?”

“Forty minutes,” his dad said.

“Oh, that's perfect. I'll put some snacks out in the meantime.”

“They're not coming in to eat,” Calix said as the door banged open and the whole group stomped inside.

“That's just bullshit, man,” Ben said. “It's our fuckin' music.”

“You haven't even heard the tracks yet.” Sam sounded exasperated. “You know, you're not the first band he's worked with that thinks they know better than him. But until you listen to what he's doing, you really don't know.”

“He's trying to change us,” Cooper said.

Sam kept her cool. “He's trying to turn good songs into hits. That's what he does. You have to trust him to do that. And before you roll your eyes, why don't you guys give it a listen?” She held up a thumb drive. “Play this, and you'll get it.”

“We'll listen,” Coop said. “But we're not pulling Slater off lead vocals.”

“Listen to the track.” Sam offered the disk to Derek.

Movement out the window had Calix turning around to see Dak slamming out of the studio. “Where's he going?”

With his messenger bag slung across his shoulder, Dak stormed down the driveway and disappeared around the side of the house.

“Throwing a tantrum,” Ben said. “But at least we're done for the day.”

Slater brought a laptop to the table. “Let's give it a go.”

Derek inserted the disk. A few moments later, the music started, and Calix felt that same energy returning. It was a great song. Until the vocals kicked in. Slater definitely sounded a little strained.

Over the music, Terrence said, “Song's in the wrong key.”

Slater shut off the music. “What's that?”

“This song's in C sharp, right?”

Slater nodded.

“Isn't that too high for you?”

“Yeah,” Slater said. “I told him that.”

“You should try it in A.”

The guys looked at each other. A simple adjustment that Dak hadn't considered.

“Let's change it,” Slater said.

“Right now?” Sam pulled out her phone, started texting. “I can see if he'll come back.”

“I don't give a shit if he comes back,” Derek said. “I want to hear it in A.”

Sam looked up from her phone. “You want him back or not?” A text came in, and she opened it. “Oh, wait. That's him.” She read it. “Okay, he's just talked to Irwin. He wants a listening party.”

Cooper slapped his hand on the counter. “Fuck yeah.”

“About time,” Ben said. “Let Irwin hear the shit we've been working on.”

“How soon?” Derek asked Sam.

“Soon as we can get it together,” Sam said.

While the others continued talking, Calix cornered Mimi. “How soon can you pull off a party?”

Those raspberry lips parted, and he wanted to nudge aside her hair with his nose and breathe in her sweet, sexy scent.

“I don't even know what a listening party is.”

“This isn't for press or fans, so it's nothing flashy. We're not showing anything off. It'll just be people from the record company. We'll keep it simple.” He shrugged. “Like a clambake.”

“A clambake? Calix, I've only ever been a guest at one of those. They should hire an event planner.”

“The more opportunities you have to cook, the better. Cooking for an event, shit goes wrong, you've got to improvise. Just like during the competition.”

The creases in her forehead relaxed, and she grinned. “Wait a second. Are you looking out for me?”

Energy crackled between them. He could feel the pull right in the center of his chest, drawing him to her. “You in or out?”

“I don't know. I'd hate to blow it for you guys.”

“I wouldn't have suggested it if I didn't think you could do it.”

“You've got a lot of faith in me.”

That spark in her eyes? It lit a fuse in him. Something that hadn't happened in years. “We'll help you.”

“You're going to help me plan a clambake?”

She sounded a little flirty, and he didn't want her getting the wrong impression, so he shifted gears. “Between me and my mom, yeah. We'll help you.”

“My wife's probably done fifty of 'em.” Terrence joined them. “You got this.”

Mimi looked at them both but settled her gaze on Calix, as though needing his support.

He gave a firm nod.

“Okay. Let's do it.”

*   *   *

Careful
to keep her fingers away from the flame, Mimi charred the red pepper while watching Calix lean into the refrigerator. The muscles in his biceps bulged as he moved things around, and his jeans cupped the tight, round globes of his ass.

He was so freaking hot, she could barely stand it.

Who would ever have thought the man who'd once played a starring role in her fantasies was now teaching her how to cook? That she'd be standing beside him and breathing in his clean, masculine scent, feeling the heat of his very big, hard body, and gazing into those dark, deeply probing eyes?

A shudder rocked through her.
Lucky bitch.

Straightening, he removed butcher-paper-wrapped packages from the refrigerator and dumped them on the island. Tearing one of them open, he set a strange clump of meat on a plate.

Reality stripped away her fog of lust. “What is
that
?” A funny smell reminded her to turn the pepper to keep it charring evenly.

“It's a ham hock.”

“And things were going so well.” In just a few short hours, Calix had taught her that changing up the type of fat used—butter, beef fat, walnut oil—transformed the flavor of a roux. He'd taken a basic recipe for vegetable broth and changed it markedly by adding lemongrass. They'd even tried using
roasted vegetables instead of the typical raw carrots, onions, and celery, which had given it a much deeper, richer flavor. “Clearly, they've taken a turn.”

He continued opening the other parcels.

“Where on earth did you find that stuff?”

He studied the contents. “I asked the butcher to give me whatever body parts he had left over.”

“To freak me out?”

Calix laughed. “I thought you've been watching
Chopped
?”

“I have.” But she hadn't believed the
Verna Bloom Show
would use shock-value kinds of ingredients.

“Then you know the kind of shit they give the contestants.”

“Wait, did
you
watch it?” When would he have done that? Between having sex with his surfer babe girlfriend and showing up at the farm at 8 a.m.?

Yeah, okay, that was a little bitchy. But if watching him from afar had fueled her nighttime fantasizes, imagine what seeing his massive hard-on had done. That man was
beautiful
.

And Shay was perfect for him. Her easy sensuality to his dark intensity.

“I haven't, but my mom has. She told me what to expect.” He held up a package. “You're gonna have to figure out how to incorporate whatever crazy shit they give you.” His thick, shoulder-length hair gleamed in the overhead lights.

A woman entered the kitchen. “You talkin' about
Chopped
?” With her height and long dark hair held back in a ponytail, she had to be his mom. She did a quick sweep of Mimi and the kitchen, before heading straight for the refrigerator.

“Yeah. Hey, Ma. This is Mimi Romano.”

“Mimi.” His mom gave her a nod. “Jo Bourbon.” And then she bent low to reach inside a drawer.

“She cooks for the band.” The way Calix watched his mom so intently reminded Mimi of the plan to get her interested in the cooking lessons.

“I'm a contestant on a cooking competition. For the
Verna Bloom Show
. Calix is helping me prepare for it.”

“It's gonna be like
Chopped
?” She closed the refrigerator,
holding a yogurt container and a bag of baby carrots, and then went to the silverware drawer.

“Similar format but not exactly the same.” Mimi watched her grab a spoon, then head to the pantry. “It's less about cooking skills and more about our ability to think on our feet. How we handle the pressure of a kitchen. And it's not focused on us the entire time. While we're cooking, Verna's show continues. She just checks in with us now and then. Oh, and also, it's based on points. Three judges giving us points for three different categories.”

“What're the categories?” Calix asked.

“Quick thinking, innovation, and presentation.”

Jo stopped at the table to peel back the butcher paper. “What're you gonna do with this?”

“Not sure yet.” Calix folded his arms across his chest.

“What kinds of dishes are you making each episode?”

The woman was definitely interested. “There're five rounds. Appetizers, soup and salad, side dishes, entrées, and dessert. I've totally got dessert. That's my thing.”

Jo nodded. “Got any plans for that offal?”

Jesus God
. Offal?
Offal.
“I'm working with organs?” Mimi looked up from the stove, moving the pepper away from the flame. A sick feeling swept over her. “Seriously, I don't think this show is like that. On the application it said we didn't need to be professionally trained. The winner will be her sous chef, so we'll learn everything from her. Giving us weird things . . . I mean, what would be the point?”

“Shock value,” Calix said. “Ratings. You should be prepared for it so you don't choke.”

“What kind of shit are we talking about?” she asked.

“I don't know. A snail, squirrel guts. Eyeballs.”

Panic had her heart pounding. “They're not going to give us stuff like that.”

Jo gave her a dull look. “Look, babe, you're not gonna make it past the first round if you get squeamish over guts or eyeballs. You wanna be laughed off the show, be the chick who's freaking out.”

Well, that settled her right down. “I don't want to be laughed at.”

His mom set the yogurt down before heading into the pantry. “What's the prize? Besides being her sous chef, what do you get if you win?”

“We'll work with her off the show, as well. We get to learn everything there is to know about the food and restaurant business.”

“Okay, so they're not looking for chefs. They're looking for an assistant. Someone with personality who can work under pressure.” She came out with a granola bar. “That means you gotta be prepared for anything. It's not your culinary skills, but how you react to things. How creative you can be under pressure.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. And I can totally do that.”

“Then you gotta handle the offal,” Calix said.

Jo nodded. “Do it. Touch the offal.”

They both looked at her with serious expressions, and she didn't want to let them down. Didn't want to be the joke of the show. Besides, she could do this. She could do anything.