She stepped forward and her jaw dropped open. “You’re Alyson’s brother?”
“You were expecting someone else?”
“No, I just thought you’d be—” She didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, she gave him one more appreciative once-over, then blushed. “Shorter,” she finished, then blushed again.
Appreciative looks from a woman were something he normally enjoyed, but hers lit a fire within him so intense that it shook him. The lamp behind her illuminated her gown in such a way that it became mostly transparent, and his heart began to beat double time in his chest. Her long brown curls ended just short of the tips of her beautiful breasts, which were now quite visible to him. Small and pert, just as he liked them. He forced himself to raise his focus to her face and reeled beneath a second punch of attraction when their eyes met.
Those eyes—mon Dieu, how they completed the package: dark and rich like a fine chocolate and flashing with temper. She was easily the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And probably the most dangerous. Women like her knew how to use their beauty to manipulate.
In what was likely a false show of modesty, she looked down at herself, gasped, and hastily wrapped herself in the comforter. She looked up at him from beneath her long lashes and said, “I’m sorry I screamed, but I’ve never done anything like this before.”
Really? He doubted that. “I’d think a woman like you would be used to waking up in a great many unusual places.” The words burst from him angrily before he could consider what he was saying.
Pink spread up her neck and cheeks. She hugged the blanket tighter around her. “Well, that’s rude and uncalled for. Your sister said you were fine with me staying here. If that’s not the case, all you have to do is say so.” She turned away from him, then spun back and advanced a few steps. “But who are you to judge me, anyway? Even if I’ve slept with a hundred men—or half of France for that matter—how would that affect you? All you know is that I needed a place to stay and your sister brought me here. I could be running from the most horrific experience, in which case you’d be demeaning an already tormented woman. Which one of us should be ashamed?”
Her passionate speech sent flames of desire through him. Right, wrong, guilty, or innocent: He no longer cared. He didn’t want to be attracted to her, but he was. He closed the distance between them and leaned down until his lips almost touched hers, testing. Her lips parted and her hot breath mixed with his. He knew he should tell her to leave. He didn’t want or need a woman like her in his life. But his thoughts remained unspoken, and the air between them sizzled with sexual tension unlike anything he’d ever felt before. “What’s your name?”
Seemingly as mesmerized by him as he was by her, she murmured, “Madison. My friends call me Maddy.”
He rolled her name over his tongue. “Madison. No last name?” Insane as it felt, he wanted—no, needed—to know more about her. He needed to test the attraction between them, pull her to him, see her eyes light with a fire just for him. He was a passionate man and one who was not ashamed of his fondness for women. Most women. Not ones who collected men like some collect shoes, discarding them when they came across something better.
He knew better than to get involved with a woman like that.
But he couldn’t step away.
She met his eyes, looking like she wanted to give herself to him, even as she denied him with her words. “Not one that you need to know. Especially since it looks like I’ll be leaving tonight.”
He ran a finger lightly down one side of her neck, tracing the wild pulse there. “You don’t have to. I may be able to help you.”
“Really?” she asked breathlessly.
He gave her a lusty grin. “Yes. If your goal is to claim that you’ve slept with all of France, who am I to stand in your way?”
Her cheeks reddened and she raised an impulsive hand toward his face. He caught it easily and simply held it to one side. He was toying with her, and they both knew it. Her temper excited him. Was she as impulsive in bed? He was sorely tempted to find out. “Why so angry? I’m no longer judging you. In fact, I applaud your—enthusiasm.”
“You’re a real jerk,” she said, attempting—but failing—to pull her hand free from his.
“I’ve been called worse—tonight, in fact.”
“Let go of my hand.”
He brought it to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist before releasing it. “You intrigue me. Outraged virgin or high-paid whore? You’d have me believe that you’re fearful and on the run from someone, yet you claim my home with the arrogance of someone who is used to getting what she wants. I tell myself it doesn’t matter, but I’ve always enjoyed a good puzzle.” He tugged on the sides of her large wrap and pulled her forward, flush against him. “I’ve never liked being given a recipe. I prefer to taste the food, let it fill my senses, and discover each ingredient myself. Then and only then is it mine to experiment with.” He brought his lips down close to hers again and flicked his tongue over her bottom lip in invitation. “Let me taste you, Madison. I promise, I will make sure your pleasure surpasses my own.”
She put a hand on his chest as if to push him away, but it merely rested between them over his wildly beating heart, while shook her head as if trying to clear it. “I may have given you the wrong impression.”
Following his instincts, he licked the exposed curve of her neck and felt her shudder with pleasure against him. Desire for her swept away the last of his resolve. He was a man who believed in following his passions. And tonight, there was only this one woman and his need for her. “I don’t care about why you’re here. All I care about is this.” He claimed her mouth with all the passion building within him and loved how her tongue met his eagerly.
***
Holy Moly.
Nothing in Madison’s sexual past had prepared her for the instant attraction she’d felt when Richard had stepped out of the darkness. A few inches over six feet with a deliciously muscled body, he was definitely not what she’d been expecting. Now, moments after meeting him, she was kissing him more intimately than she’d ever kissed one of her boyfriends. His hands cupped her buttocks and held her firmly against him. She should be afraid. Throw-all-decorum-to-the-wind lust doesn’t happen outside of the movies, does it? And if it does, you should at least know the other person. So this is what happens when you wear see-through thongs.
So much for him not noticing I’m here.
Maddy’s desire surged. She arched backward to allow him access to her shoulder. Nothing mattered except the heat that was spreading through her and the need to be closer to him. He trailed kisses across her exposed collarbone and she arched even farther back, desperately wanting to feel those hot kisses farther down. Her nipples tightened and begged for his attention.
I’m not the kind of woman who has a one-night stand.
Any stand, for that matter.
Maddy shivered with desire when Richard cupped one of her breasts in his hand. His thumb caressed and teased. His breath warmed her as his mouth replaced his hand. He suckled her, his hot, wet tongue circling her. She felt the gentle tug all the way down through her stomach. Her body readied itself for him, pulsing and tingling.
How can a bad idea feel so good? Every place he touched burned for him. Every place he didn’t yearned for him. I should stop now before this gets out of control.
If it’s not already.
As if he could hear her inner debate, Richard raised his head. His eyes were ablaze with desire for her, but his voice was soft. “What is it?”
What is it not? I’ve left everything I know behind to shack up with a stranger and, instead of locking my door and seeking a way to make a dangerous choice safer, I’m seriously considering throwing my moral compass in the trash.
“I’m a virgin,” she blurted.
He gripped her by both upper arms and demanded, “A what?”
Embarrassment flooded in and she tried to pull away from him. “You heard me.”
R
ichard’s hands tightened on her arms painfully. “Are you joking?”
I wish I were.
Richard bent, lifted the blanket off the floor, and tossed it at her. He was saying something angrily in French, and for once she wished she’d paid attention to her language tutors. Although when they said I’d need the skill someday, I’m sure they never imagined this scenario. “A minute ago you didn’t care who I’d slept with. Why does it matter if I haven’t been with anyone?”
Have I lost my mind? Am I actually arguing for him to continue pawing me?
He paced in front of her, running his hands through his hair and cursing in French. She had no problem translating most of that. Some profanity is universal. He grabbed her by an arm again and swung her to face him. “I don’t sleep with virgins.”
“Fine,” she said and wanted to kick herself for sounding less and less mature with every word that came out of her mouth. She tried, unsuccessfully, to pull her arm free from him.
He stood in front of her, close enough that she had to tip her head back to meet his angry glare with one of her own. “What about your lover? Did he expect something in return for supporting you? Is that why you left him?”
Still feeling a bit raw from his refusal, Maddy snapped, “This isn’t about a man.”
“So, you lied to my sister?”
Oh, yeah, that. “She assumed that was why I looked upset. I just didn’t correct her.” Because apparently lying runs in my family.
“Are you in trouble with the law?”
Maddy almost laughed, until she realized he wasn’t kidding. “No, but I needed to find someplace where I could think.”
“And you thought you could do that here?”
She raised her chin defiantly. “You were supposed to be short and fat.”
A corner of his mouth lifted, as if her comment amused him despite his annoyance. As he continued to look at her, his expression changed, and with unexpected compassion he asked, “Did someone hurt you?”
The question threw her. They had, but not in the way she knew he thought. It was too complicated, and the details could potentially hurt her family if they went public, so she merely shook her head.
He didn’t believe her. He rubbed a hand roughly over his face as if trying to clear his thoughts. “You don’t have to lie to me. You’re safe here.”
“Am I?” she asked hoarsely. They both knew what she was asking.
With his features set in harsh, cold lines, he said, “It was a kiss. People do more on the dance floor after a few drinks.”
Where do you dance? Maddy thought as a gurgle of nervous laughter bubbled in her throat. “I should probably still go.”
“I told you you’re safe here. Nothing further is going to happen between us.”
“Because I’m a virgin?”
He growled something in French beneath his breath. “Oui, and too young for me.”
Let it go, the voice of reason in her pleaded, but she couldn’t. “You’re not much older than I am.”
“In years, perhaps not. In experience, we couldn’t be more different. Sex to me is like a good meal, pleasant but not necessarily best always served from the same cook. Could you handle that?”
“No.”
“That, ma puce, is why you are perfectly safe here tonight.” He turned and headed toward the door of the suite.
Maddy doubted that, after he’d walked out, she’d ever see him again. Despite their verbal clashes, the thought made her a bit sad. What do you say to someone who just made a decision you should have—one you would have if you weren’t so angry with the world that a dose of danger felt good? “Richard,” she called out to him softly, and he stopped. “Thank you.”
He turned slowly and leaned against the doorjamb, watching her cautiously, “It’s not a problem.” Then he smiled a bit playfully and, in a beautifully sexy French drawl, said, “Well, it was less a problem before I saw those beautiful breasts of yours. But it’s nothing a cold shower won’t fix.”
The connection they’d felt earlier deepened when she smiled at his joke and he smiled back. There was more intimacy in that moment than there’d been in kissing and ripping at each other’s clothing. It shook Maddy. She didn’t want him to leave, but she wasn’t brave enough to ask him to stay. “I should have been honest with your sister. I’m here because I quarreled with my father. Have you ever been put in a situation where you have to do something, but no matter what you do, you know nothing will ever be the same?”
His expression darkened with the pain of some memory. “Oui.”
“What did you do?” she asked in a hushed tone.
“What I had to, and then I walked away.”
“I don’t think I can do that.”
The sincerity in her voice seemed to touch a cord in him. He straightened from the wall and said, “It looks like you already did.”
“I’m so confused,” she admitted hoarsely.
He closed the distance between them and kissed her gently on one cheek. “You and I both, ma puce, I will not sleep easily tonight.”
He spun and left with the cat following at his heels.
Maddy groaned and, picking up her tablet, walked alone into the guest bedroom. She slid under the covers of the bed, still clutching the device, which she didn’t turn on. I doubt there is a book on there that could make me forget that I almost gave my virginity to the first sexy Frenchman I met, only to be refused like I’d offered him a case of the measles. She set the tablet on the night table, flipped the light off, and stared at the dark ceiling above. Is he lying in his bed imagining what it would have been like between us? Not that I want to be just another meal he enjoyed and then forgot. She closed her eyes and remembered how her body had responded to his touch. Her skin still tingled at the memory.
Sex is supposed mean something.
A hot night with a complete stranger would have been wrong.
She rolled onto her side and hugged one of the pillows to her chest.
Or it would have been heaven.
Chapter Three
Early the next evening, Richard paused from issuing orders to his kitchen staff to throw a sheet pan in the dish pit with enough force that the sound echoed throughout the room and caused a momentary halt in activity. With a glare, he set his workers back on task. They knew better than to joke with him when he was in a mood.
Yes, he held them to impossibly high standards, but he didn’t ask them to give any more than he gave of himself each day: everything.
He was an artist, not a cook. He fed people’s souls, the same way a painter or musician would. The world could survive without art or gourmet food, but who would want to live in such a world? He was driven to create dishes that would be remembered long after they were experienced. It was an obsession—until today.
The only thing worse than spending the day distracted by the thought of Madison in his house was the thought that she might no longer be there.
Memories of her tight body outlined by the light of a side lamp brought him to an uncomfortable level of arousal. And those eyes. Mon Dieu, those chocolate eyes—flashing with anger, melting with desire, while she offered herself to him.
An offer I turned down.
No matter how he tried, he couldn’t stop his thoughts from returning to his houseguest and their short encounter. He’d formed an opinion of her before they’d met and had been set to dislike her. Instead, he found himself fascinated, and not just sexually.
She was in his thoughts, his blood, an itch that could not be denied.
And all I did was kiss her.
I don’t even know her last name.
If she left, I’d never be able to find her.
That thought was enough to have him striding over to Bertrand. Even though the restaurant was closing early that day, he couldn’t wait a moment longer. “I’ll be at my house if you need me, but only call if you’ve lit the place on fire.”
His sous-chef was so surprised that he asked a question he already k
new the answer to. “Y-you’re leaving?”
Richard imagined Madison as he’d found her, lying on the couch, and hastily discarded his chef coat. Bertrand was perfectly capable of running the kitchen—even if it was the first time he’d been asked to do so. Richard had never been one to second-guess his decisions and was not about to start now. “I am.”
“Are you ill?” Bertrand asked with real concern.
“No. I have something at my house that requires my attention.”
Bertrand shook his head in confusion and said, “In all the years we’ve worked together, I’ve never seen you leave early. You don’t celebrate the holidays. Is it your sister? Is Alyson okay?”
“Everyone is fine,” Richard said impatiently. “I just have to go.”
Bertrand persisted, “You know, we’re business partners, but we’re also friends. If you need help, let me know.”
“I probably need psychiatric help, but tonight just worry about the restaurant.”
A slow, understanding smile spread across the older man’s face. “Only a woman could make a man that crazy.”
“Just close the restaurant tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Or not,” Bertrand said happily. “Take your time. I’m perfectly capable of running this place without you for a few days.”
Richard opened his mouth to say he’d be back early in the morning as usual, but if everything worked out the way he wanted it to, he wasn’t sure he would be. So he kept his thoughts to himself and headed toward the door. Bertrand clapped his hands loudly and, in a tone much like Richard would have used, put the kitchen staff back on task.
Richard exceeded the speed limit on all the roads that separated him from the woman he couldn’t stop thinking about. On the way he rehearsed how he would tell Madison that he’d changed his stance on virginity.
***
Right, left, then another left after the farmhouse. Or was it left, right, then left at the farmhouse? Shit. Maddy stood at an intersection, wishing she’d paid more attention on the way into the small town near Richard’s house. Her arms were aching from the weight of the bags she’d filled with Christmas decorations.
Recipe for Love Page 3
