Sexy Scoundrel: A Cocky Hero Club Novel

by Greywood, Raisa

  “Your brother is the only reason I haven’t gotten out my dad’s shotgun to run you off. I like him.”

  “And you don’t like me,” I murmured, leaning close to take in her perfume. She smelled like sunshine.

  “I thought I made that clear.” She set her knife down and spun to face me. “Do you have a purpose in my kitchen, or are you just trying to piss me off?”

  “Yes.”

  Chapter Three

  Carlina

  Despite his awful behavior, Giorgio was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, and damn, he smelled good. His scent was a mix of sandalwood and musk that made me want to bury my face in his chest. My fingers itched to take the clip out of his hair and see what the thick, dark mass looked like spread over his broad shoulders.

  I got my mind back in the game. Lusting over someone like Giorgio wasn’t a good idea. “Yes, to what?”

  He smirked and tugged a curl that had fallen loose from my pony tail. “I really did come here to offer you a job cooking for my brother and me.”

  “You’re not here to try to buy my property?” I asked, cocking my head as I turned and cracked eggs into a mixing bowl.

  The money he’d offered for my cooking would solve all my problems, but the thought of being targeted by the paparazzi following him made me sick to my stomach. After dealing with Mark, the idea of bringing more drama into my life wasn’t appealing.

  It seemed a little silly to cook breakfast for them when I had no intention of taking the job, but I’d promised Antonio French toast. I wasn’t petty enough to back out of it just because I didn’t like his brother.

  “No. Antonio likes it here, and I’d be more than grateful if you’d consent to letting him visit a few times a month, even if you won’t be cooking for us.”

  “I’ll feed him when he visits.” Once I’d finished beating the eggs, I heated a skillet and got started on breakfast. “When I find a job, I’ll let you know what days work best for me.”

  “All right. Do you need help with anything?”

  I hid my surprise at Giorgio’s offer. He seemed more the type to sit back and allow people to wait on him. “You can set the table, if you want. Plates are in the cupboard above the stand mixer, and the flatware is in the drawer under it.”

  “Do you mind if my driver eats with us?” he asked, pulling plates from the cupboard.

  Rolling my eyes, I resisted the urge to snap at him. “This isn’t Victorian England, Mr. Acardi. We’re a little more egalitarian here.”

  His face darkened and he scowled. “Hey, I know you don’t like me, and that’s fine. I would appreciate it if you’d at least recognize when I’m trying to be polite.”

  As much as I liked his brother, I didn’t see myself spending a minute more than I absolutely had to with Giorgio. In my eyes, working for him would be about the same level of bad idea as signing a contract with Mark Francis, but maybe I had been a little rude. “Fine. Sorry. Let’s just get this over with so you can get out of my house.”

  “Fine,” he snapped, his eyes narrowing at the pile of vegetables I was pouring into the eggs. “Antonio’s not going to eat that. He hates vegetables.”

  “Oh, ye of little faith. Twenty bucks says he will.” Not even Katie, who had been notoriously sensitive to food texture and blended flavors, could turn down my scrambled eggs. The secret was in the tiny dollop of cream cheese beaten into the mixture, and in never letting her know it was in there. She hadn’t liked white food. We’d even had to tint rice with food color or beet juice to get her to eat it.

  “You’re on.”

  Sucker. That twenty would go straight into my gas tank, which was now nearly empty, thanks to the round-trip drive to Temecula.

  Antonio came around the corner, his wide smile charming me all over again. To my surprise, Leonard walked at his side. I frowned at the way Antonio limped, but didn’t want to ask what had happened to him. Giorgio had already bitten my head off for suggesting equine therapy and I didn’t want to get into another fight. Especially not in front of Antonio.

  “What are we having for breakfast?” Antonio asked, sitting down at the table.

  “Scrambled eggs with peppers, tomatoes, and mushrooms, and French toast made with homemade twelve-grain bread.”

  Giorgio’s driver came inside and sat next to Antonio. I got the impression the older man didn’t say much, but he seemed very observant.

  “There are green things in the eggs and I don’t like vegetables,” Antonio said, scowling at the bowl I set on the table. “I like corn dogs. Corn is a vegetable, right?”

  Trying not to laugh, I said, “Well, yes, but a corn dog is a hot dog coated in cornbread and deep-fried. Try the eggs before you decide you don’t like it. Sometimes our tastes change.”

  “What does that mean?” He grimaced at the carafe in my hand. “Can I have milk instead? I don’t like coffee.”

  “Sure.” I poured coffee into three mugs, then put out cream and sugar. “I used to love pickles when I was a kid, but now I don’t like them,” I said, setting a glass of milk in front of him. “And I hated olives. Now, they’re my favorite snack.”

  “I’m not going to like it,” Antonio muttered.

  I spooned a few bites to his plate. “You’ve read Green Eggs and Ham, right?” I asked.

  Antonio laughed and rocked back and forth in his chair. “That’s a kid’s book.”

  “Yeah, but it’s still a good story and was one of my sister’s favorites.” I sat across from him and took a sip of coffee. “Do you remember what happened when Sam finally convinced his friend to try green eggs and ham?”

  Antonio picked up his fork, giving me a distrustful look. “Sam’s friend decided he liked them,” he muttered. Still frowning, he shoved a bite into his mouth, then looked up at me, eyes wide with surprise. “I like green eggs,” he said. “Can I have more?”

  “Of course. Have as much as you want.”

  I smirked when Giorgio glared at his brother and dropped a crisp twenty-dollar bill into my outstretched hand.

  Giorgio

  What I wouldn’t give to turn Carlina Pérez over my knee. My palm itched and tingled just thinking about it. The minx had set me up. She knew whatever she’d done to those eggs would make him eat them.

  Mr. Dennison forked a bite into his mouth and closed his eyes, a beatific smile on his face as he chewed. My stomach growled, and grudgingly, I tried it. Fuck, the woman could cook. And she’d thrown a meal together with what she had on hand in less than twenty minutes.

  The eggs were fluffy and perfect, and made me think I was sitting in a cantina on a beach somewhere warm and sunny. Flavors exploded on my tongue, and I wanted to cry when I remembered Carlina’s food would be forever denied to me because I couldn’t keep my stupid mouth shut. Although I wanted to wrap an arm around my plate like the woman in La Panache had done, I kept my hand firmly in my lap.

  “Why is the French toast all brown and weird?” Antonio asked.

  I started to say something to Antonio about his manners, but Carlina laughed. “The toast looks brown because it’s made with whole-grain bread. It’ll be a little different than what you’re used to, but I want you to try it before you decide it’s weird, okay?”

  “I’ll try it,” he said, giving the thick slices of deliciousness another distrustful look. “If I don’t like it, can I have Lucky Charms?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have that, but you can have more eggs instead.” She rounded the table and helped him with the syrup. “We’ll just use a little at first. You can add more if you want, but it’s hard to take away if you use too much.”

  Still scowling, Antonio watched us eat, then took an experimental bite of the French toast. His eyes widened, and he said, “This is way better than Lucky Charms. I want it every day.”

  Carlina laughed and squeezed his shoulder before returning to her chair. “I’m glad you like it.”

  After finishing a piece of the toast, he got another helping of eggs, eating hun
ched over his plate like a starving dog. The presence of vegetables never slowed him down and I wanted to kick myself again for screwing this up for him. Had she cooked this one meal to torment me? I’d have paid a fortune for it if I’d found it in a restaurant. Worse, Antonio loved her food, and I knew I’d have to come up with some explanation for why Carlina wouldn’t be cooking for us.

  “More milk, please?” Antonio asked. A piece of his French toast fell to the floor, and disappeared into Leonard’s gaping maw, along with a few bites of egg from Clyde’s fork.

  Chuffing softly, Leonard pushed his way under the table, rubbing against my pant legs. He groaned, then laid down and rested his head on my shoes. I cut a piece of my French toast and dropped it, unsurprised when he snapped it up almost before it hit the floor.

  Carlina nodded and emptied the bottle into his glass, then got another out of the fridge. Nobody got milk in glass bottles anymore, and I wondered if she had a cow on the property. “How do you like it?”

  He slipped another piece of French toast under the table. “It’s really good. Can you make this for breakfast for Giorgio and me every day?”

  Without looking at me, she reached over and touched his hand. “Well, I can give you the recipe, but I’m not going to be able to cook for you.”

  His face crumpled and he slumped in his chair. “But Gio promised! He said I could come visit Leonard and you would cook for us.”

  “I’m really sorry, Antonio, but I need to find another job so I can afford to feed all the animals here. You can visit Leonard whenever you want though. Will that be okay?”

  He fisted his eyes, then sniffed and nodded. “I guess so. I can visit anytime I want, right?”

  “Absolutely,” she replied, squeezing his hand. “I bet Leonard will be happy to see you.”

  I had to give Carlina credit for not telling Antonio what I said, or for blaming me for her unwillingness to work for me. I nodded my agreement, then said, “Mr. Dennison or I will bring you over whenever you want, as long as you ask Carlina first. I’ll find someone else to cook for you, okay?”

  “Forget it.” He got to his feet and threw his glass against the wall, shattering it. “I don’t want anyone else. I want to go home now,” he yelled, tears filling his eyes.

  He ran outside, Clyde chasing after him.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’ll help you clean up.”

  “No, it’s okay. You should go take care of Antonio.” She bit her lip and stared out the window, then added, “Maybe I can have him over once a week. I’ll have to see what my schedule looks like after I find a new job.”

  I scribbled my cell number on the back of my business card, then handed it to her. “My private number is on the back. Call any time.”

  When she nodded, I grabbed my suit jacket and left. Antonio didn’t have meltdowns often, but they usually lasted most of the day. Hopefully, Carlina’s offer would be enough to satisfy him.

  Chapter Four

  Carlina

  My mind whirling, I stared out the window as they drove away. I felt awful for disappointing Antonio, like I’d kicked a puppy. It was so easy to say no to Giorgio after he’d been such an ass, but saying no to Antonio, then watching him melt down… Well, that had been a lot harder.

  I wondered if I ought to accept the job. The money Giorgio had offered would solve most of my problems and it wasn’t guaranteed that I’d find something else. Aubrey would make sure I got out of the contract with Mark, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try to blackball me. The only things on my resume were my culinary school education and the job at La Panache.

  Why did everything have to be so complicated?

  My phone chirped, making me jump, and I winced at the sight of Aubrey’s name and number. Knowing I’d have to tell her what happened sooner or later, I answered, then walked outside to get some fresh air.

  “Hey, Carli! How did your meeting with Antonio and Giorgio go?”

  “Well—”

  “Don’t you just love Antonio? He’s the absolute sweetest guy, and I know he’ll adore your food.”

  “That wasn’t the problem.”

  She went silent for a second, then hissed out a breath. “I’m going to murder that man. What did Giorgio do?”

  “I let Antonio ride Max, and then suggested equine therapy because it helped my sister so much. He called me…” I grimaced and tried again to get the word out. “He yelled at me and asked me if I was the moron whisperer.”

  “He said what?” she asked, her voice soft and dangerous. “I don’t think I heard you properly.”

  “No, I’m pretty sure you got it. Even though he apologized, I don’t think I can work for him. He offered to keep sponsoring Leonard, but I’d prefer you find someone else if you can.”

  “I’m going to strangle him with one of his ties,” Aubrey replied.

  “Who are we strangling?” Chance asked in the background.

  “Your friend Giorgio,” she snapped. “He’s an asshole.”

  “Well, yes, but what new evidence do you have?”

  Aubrey repeated what I’d told her, making Chance let out a vicious curse. “Did he apologize?” he asked, the slight echo letting me know he’d put our conversation on speaker.

  “Yes, profusely. I remember how annoying it was to have strangers tell us how to help Katie, so I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.”

  “Don’t you dare blame yourself for that,” Chance replied, his Australian accent clipped. “He’s a grown man and should know better.”

  “It’s okay, really,” I replied, hoping to calm Chance down.

  “If it was okay, you would have accepted his job offer.”

  Well, he had me there. I wasn’t going to tell them the real reason I didn’t want to work for Giorgio. He was too gorgeous by half, and I’d be a goner for him if he turned out to be a genuinely nice guy under that overly-entitled façade. I didn’t have the time or energy to lust after an unobtainable man, and I definitely wasn’t his type, at least not according to all the tabloid photos I’d seen.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” Aubrey said. “Chance and I are going to have a come to Jesus moment with the bastard in a suit. If he knows what’s good for him, he’s going to sponsor Leonard, regardless.”

  “Well, I—”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of everything.”

  Aubrey ended the call and I banged my head against the door frame. Mark had used those exact words when he asked me to sign that damned contract. Aubrey couldn’t have known that, but it irritated the fuck out of me.

  I stomped back into the kitchen and skidded to a halt. I shut my eyes, trying to pretend what I saw didn’t exist. Nope. I didn’t need this shit. Unfortunately, when I opened them, I saw the same thing. Where were my blanket fort and stuffed bear when I needed them?

  Leonard had his huge front paws parked on my kitchen table, carefully cleaning every scrap of food from all the dishes I left there. I’m not sure what I expected to happen, it was completely my fault for leaving them out in the first place.

  “Well, at least I don’t have to rinse the dishes.” I pulled the plastic sausage tube of his food from the freezer, and cut off a hunk for him with a butcher’s saw. Resembling raw ground beef, it didn’t look appetizing, but I wasn’t a lion. Piling the chunks into a metal bowl, I said, “Hey, kitty cat, want some breakfast?”

  He swung his head around and his muzzle wrinkled at the scent. Grunting softly, he dropped to all four feet and padded toward me, his jaws open. I took a step backward and questioned my life choices.

  Holding a bowl of raw meat, check. Four-hundred-pound lion, check. Alone in a house with said lion, also check. Poor decisions and sanity on the shy edge of crazy, yep, double check on that.

  “Coño. Aubrey Bateman, I’m so going to haunt your ass.”

  Instead of chowing down on plump Latina, Leonard dropped to his haunches, his tail wrapped around his front feet. I set the bowl down and took several steps bac
kward, yet he followed me across the kitchen, chuffing softly. When he reached me, he sat again, nosed at my fingers, then swung his head back to face the bowl.

  I had a lot of experience with animals. Growing up on a farm with parents who embraced self-sufficiency and kindness to all creatures gave me a good idea of what to expect from a large carnivore, but I had no idea what Leonard wanted.

  “Your food is over there, buddy. Go on and eat.”

  He didn’t move, and just looked up at me expectantly, his eyes never quite meeting my face. I walked back to the bowl and nudged it with a toe. He followed, then sat down on my foot, still letting out those low, breathy growls that almost sounded like purring.

  “Seriously? What do you want?”

  Judging by his body condition, maybe he didn’t understand the chunks of meat were food. Maybe it would be easier on his teeth if I thawed it. I had no idea what he’d been fed before, but it obviously hadn’t been enough. I knelt and scooped up a piece about the size of a baseball and held it under his nose.

  He sucked the ground meat and my hand into his mouth, then swiped the food from my fingers with his tongue. His jaws worked for a few seconds and he swallowed, then looked down at the bowl again.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  I picked up another piece and held it out. It disappeared into Leonard’s mouth as quickly as the first. No, he clearly wasn’t kidding.

  “This is my life now,” I muttered, holding out another bite of freakishly expensive carnivore diet. “Hand feeding a lion. I swear to God, the next time Aubrey asks me to go to Park Street, I’m going to develop the plague.”

  When he finished the last of his meal, Leonard bumped me with his massive head, knocking me off balance. I fell backward, and he laid his paws on my chest, then collapsed, burying me under a few hundred pounds of slightly rank lion.

  Wondering if he’d let me bathe him, I pushed him off, wriggling out from under him. “You might talk me into hand-feeding you, but I’m not your personal lounge toy.”