CAN’T STAND THE HEAT
Copyright © 2020 by Wynter Daniels
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. All characters, events, scenes, plots, and associated elements remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Wynter Daniels.
Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Published in the United States of America.
**Previously Published**
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Epilogue
About the Author
Prologue
Savannah, Georgia, 2006
Marissa Walker eased open the front door and stepped into her house. Slipping off her shoes, she hung her purse on the hook next to Billy's chef's coat.
She padded into the kitchen and grabbed two flutes, and the bottle of champagne that Joel, their boss, had given them for their fifth anniversary a few weeks ago. Then she tiptoed down the hall and noticed indigo light spilling under their bedroom door. Maybe Billy was still awake, watching TV.
Quietly turning the crystal knob, she inched open the door and peeked inside.
Billy gasped as he sat on the bed, clutching his chest with his eyes open wide. "Jeez, honey. You scared the hell out of me. What are you doing home so early?"
She stepped inside and set the glasses and wine on the night table, tamping down the disappointment that he hadn't seemed excited to see her. "Joel cut me loose early. He offered to close the kitchen down for me." She scanned the area around the phone for any telltale signs that Billy had been gambling again—those little scraps of paper where he wrote odds or team names.
No! I refuse to go there.
He'd sworn on his mother's grave that he'd quit, and she had to trust him. If they didn’t have trust, what did they have?
He crawled across the bed like a tiger on the prowl. "Champagne, huh?" A wicked grin lifted one corner of his mouth. "What are we celebrating?"
"Both of us being home before midnight." She turned her back on him to open the wine. As she popped the cork, she heard him get up off the bed.
He moved behind her, kissed the top of her head. "Mm. You smell like chocolate. What have you been up to?"
She dared not ask him the same question.
Learn to trust him.
"I was experimenting with a Mole sauce. I think you'll like it."
He reached around her, opened her chef's jacket, and snuck his hands inside the front. A zing of desire upped her temperature a dozen degrees. As she poured the champagne, he cupped her breasts, rolled her nipples between his fingers. He rubbed his hard cock against her back.
"You're going to make me spill this." But she didn’t want him to stop. He knew all the ways she loved to be touched. She turned to face him. His hair was damp and he smelled like soap and his piney shampoo.
Raking a smoky stare over her body, he pushed her coat off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. "Take your clothes off." His voice was low and throaty and full of command and need.
Without a sound, she lifted her undershirt over her head, shucked off her pants and underwear. Billy slid his hands around her, squeezed her ass, and forced her closer. "I love you, Marissa. You're the sexiest woman on the planet."
Electricity ricocheted between them. Her nipples hardened to painful points as she drew a ragged breath infused with his clean scent. He covered her mouth with his and kissed her softly. Her eyelids slipped shut as she savored his minty taste. Yearning pooled in her veins as he lifted her onto the dresser.
Stepping between her knees, he threaded his fingers through her hair and deepened his kiss, sucked her tongue into his mouth. She ran her hands along his back, lingered over his corded muscles.
He broke the kiss and pinned her with a meaningful stare. "How do we get through the day without ripping off each other's clothes?"
Grinning, she hooked her legs around him and nudged him closer. "We haven't made it through every day. Remember that time last summer, in the broom closet?"
"Mm-hmm." He nibbled on her neck. "We do well in tight spaces." Getting on his knees, he planted soft kisses on her belly, trailed down to her inner thighs. "Speaking of tight places…"
Her whole body vibrated with pent up need as he rasped his thumb over her swollen sex. Gripping the edge of the dresser, she held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut. Her hips writhed as her juices started flowing.
“I can’t wait to taste your sweet sex.” He slid his tongue along her folds, then teased a finger inside her entrance, then another. Her intimate muscles contracted and throbbed as she moved against his fingers. He rubbed flesh over bone, ramping up her pleasure. She automatically squeezed tighter, increased her rhythm. Moans of pleasure collected in her throat, slipping out as faint cries begging him not to stop.
Billy strummed her clit, sucked it into his mouth as his long fingers explored her slick depths. Desire crashed through her with the force of an earthquake, catapulting her over the edge to ecstasy.
Wave after blissful wave wracked her body. She grabbed handfuls of his hair in her fists as she whispered his name, again and again. As her orgasm receded, Billy carried her to their bed and laid her down. He lowered his mouth to her breast, plucked the nipple of the other one. His whiskers scratched at her delicate skin, heightened her senses. Stroking his tongue over her distended nipple, he groaned, deep and low, an animal sound that turned up her temperature even more.
He rubbed his iron-hard erection over her clit, tearing a needy moan from her. “I’ve got to have you, baby. My sweet, tight baby.” He reached into the night table drawer for a condom and quickly slid it on.
Marissa pulled herself up to her knees and patted the mattress beside her. His sultry grin told her that was exactly what he wanted. He climbed onto the bed and sat with his back against the headboard. "You're so beautiful, baby."
"So are you." She straddled his lap and curled her fingers into his shoulders. Then she lowered herself onto his hard shaft, took him in, but not all the way. She smiled at him, a teasing smile.
“I don’t know if I can handle all of you, lover.” It was a game they’d always played.
“There’s lots more where that came from.” He thrust harder, eased further inside her. She took him deeper and deeper with each stroke, then reached around and stroked his balls, just the way he liked.
He gripped her ass, kneading the flesh as a low moan rumbled in the back of his throat. Hot liquid pleasure slicked her insides, built to a heavenly pressure until she convulsed in another orgasm. She rode his cock as stars swam before her eyes. Breathless and throbbing, she concentrated on Billy’s building intensity.
He closed his hands around her waist, guided her movements, faster and harder. Each thrust grew more urgent. She watched his face constrict as she rocked against him, directing their pleasure. He bucked beneath her, drove into her depths.
She quickened her pace as he sank his fingers into her flesh, his face contorted with bliss. He gave one final thrust, then let out a low groan. Collapsing onto his shoulders, sweaty and panting, she was perfectly satisfied.
She loved him more than anything, needed him as much as she did air and water. They stayed there, each part of the other for severa
l minutes, basking in love's embers. Billy reached to the night table for a glass of champagne. "Want some?" he offered.
Although her mouth was dry, it was water she craved now. Easing herself off of him, she grabbed her robe from the end of the bed. "I'll be right back." She headed down the hallway toward the kitchen. Behind her, she heard Billy go into the bathroom and shut the door.
When the phone rang, she glanced at the kitchen clock. Who would call at nearly eleven pm? She poured herself a glass of water and listened as the machine picked up.
"Billy boy, it's me, Kenny. You know the friggin' Falcons lost Sunday night. You owe me three hundred, and I don’t want none of your wife's crap jewelry this time. Pay up, dude, or you can forget the bet you placed on tomorrow’s Dolphins game."
She froze as her world started tumbling down. Billy had taught her every flavor of disappointment, but this was the most bitter. He’d sworn, promised anything and everything if she’d only try to trust him. Well, she had, and look where it got her.
His footsteps behind her suddenly halted. "Baby, it's not what you—"
"Get out. I don’t ever want to see you again." She buried her face in her hands.
“Marissa, I—”
“Out!” she shouted at the top of her lungs.
“Please, honey, listen—”
“Get out!”
He didn’t argue. He shuffled back to the bedroom.
She was through with Billy Walker. She'd never be a fool for love again.
Chapter One
One year later
"No way, Joel. No freaking way will I work with my ex-husband." Marissa Walker gripped her boning knife and pretended the chicken she deboned was Billy Walker's heart.
"Now don't fly off the handle." Joel took a step away from the prep area, probably for his safety. "This is a business decision. Times are lean. It's gotten tougher and tougher to keep up with two locations. I told you a few days ago I've been entertaining offers for the Atlanta restaurant."
"And just like that, the place is sold?" She slammed the knife down on the steel countertop and leveled an angry stare at her boss. How could he do this? She thought he cared about her. "Doesn't the new owner know that the chef makes the restaurant? He should be keeping Billy on there, at least for a while." The prospect of seeing the man who'd ripped her world apart made her gut tighten with dread.
Joel shook his head, folded his arms over his barrel chest. "The new owner has his own team he wants to install. He has several restaurants in Raleigh and Charleston."
She tried to concentrate on slicing the meat into strips, but she couldn't purge the image of Billy from her brain. His irritating crooked smile and that ridiculous wink, the incredible icy blue eyes, and those biceps. Oh, Lord, those biceps. Tugging at her collar, she wondered if she'd remembered to turn down the air conditioner. Place was too damn hot. "Why can't you just let Billy go, then? How is it your responsibility to see that the guy is employed?" A tiny shard of guilt lodged in her heart, but she ignored it. "Maybe he can devote himself full time to his gambling habit if he doesn't have to show up for a real job."
"He swears he's through with that. Says he's a changed man." He sounded as if he were trying to sell her a snake oil cure.
She rolled her eyes. "My big Italian ass he's changed. Any idea how many times he made that very same promise to me?" Huffing, she laid thin strips of chicken in a glass casserole filled with marinade. Turning her back to Joel, she scrubbed her hands until they were nearly raw. "Every time I caught him in a lie, that's how many." She ripped a paper towel from the dispenser to dry her hands, then covered the chicken and carried the dish to the refrigerator. "You, of all people, know what I went through with him."
"He's my cousin, sweetheart." Joel's doe-brown eyes softened. "How can I face my family if I yank the rug out from under him?"
She started to buck, but he firmly grasped her shoulders and held her still. "Marissa, you know damn well you need more help in the kitchen here. Billy has a great repertoire of healthy dishes he tried in Atlanta, and he knows all yours better than anyone but you. You haven't seen him in a year. Give him a chance." He held her at arm's length. "This is the only way. It'll work out." A wicked grin lifted the corner of his mouth. "Your ass isn't big, by the way. Perfectly round and high."
"Since when do you look at girls' asses?" Twisting out of his reach, she swept an arm through the air. "This is my kitchen." She pointed to the colorful plaque over the door that her neighbor, Tina, had given her last Christmas. "See? It says, 'Marissa's Kitchen,' not Billy's and Marissa's. He'll screw everything up."
"You are a bit of a control freak." His expression grew serious. "If memory serves me, I seem to remember that was also an issue in your relationship. His gambling was only part of the problem."
Gritting her teeth, she took a deep breath. If she were smart, she'd quit. But how could she leave this place, leave Joel? She'd built it into what it was today—Savannah's only gourmet restaurant that catered to the healthy living crowd. She'd remade loads of old Southern favorites without all the fat and calories. People lined up at the door to eat here, and it was all because of her. Sure, she'd been Billy's Sous Chef the first couple of years, helping him create his brand of light dishes. But the place had come into its own recently since he'd been gone.
"I'm sorry," Joel said, breaking into her thoughts. "Your relationship with Billy is none of my business, but things at this place are my concern. Look at it this way; you won't have to work six days a week anymore."
Hardly much of a consolation. “I can’t work with him, Joel. I’d rather leave than have to see him day in, day out.” How could she create magic with her heart ripping in half every single day?
“Tell you what. Give it some time. If the two of you can’t make it work here, I’ll choose the best man…or woman for the job and find something else for the other. You know I have loads of connections. Fair?”
She eyed him suspiciously.
"Sweetheart, you're my best friend. I'd never do anything to hurt you. You have to trust me on this."
She stared at his broad shoulders and short, military-style flattop. He was the sort of man everyone looked up to and not only because he was six and a half feet tall. He was a real standup guy. Joel had never lied to her, had always been there for her. Meeting his gaze, she knew he truly believed what he said. Her heart thawed a little. If he weren't gay, she'd…no. Even if Joel were straight, she'd never dare risk their friendship with something like an affair. He meant too much to her, and besides, she sucked at love.
He touched her hair, tugged on a curl that had worked free of her hairnet, then released it and watched it spring back toward her head. "He was a fool to take you for granted, you know."
She swallowed back the lump in her throat. "Yeah, you're right."
He started toward the swinging door to the dining room.
"Joel?" she called.
Glancing over his shoulder, he lifted an eyebrow, waiting.
"How long do I have before he arrives?" She hoped she'd at least have some time to acclimate to the idea before Billy reentered her life.
"He'll be here in the morning. Sorry for the short notice, but I didn't want you to worry yourself to death. You know how you are." With that bomb dropped, he left.
In the morning? Grabbing the edge of a counter, she gasped for breath. She needed time to prepare her armor for his seductive arrows. The ring of her cell phone snapped her back to life. She fished it out of her pocket and studied the unfamiliar number. "Hello?"
"Hiya, babe." Billy's honey voice set her heart thumping. "Long time no speak."
Words caught in her suddenly bone-dry throat. She raced to the water cooler for a drink.
"I know. You're thrilled to hear from me." Typical Billy. Egotistical sarcasm. "I wanted to make sure it would be okay if I crashed at your place tonight."
She sucked water down so fast she gagged on it. Had he just said what she thought he had? Slapping her chest, she
coughed and sputtered, tried to get a word out, one word—no!
"Choked up at the thought of seeing me, huh? Me, too. I'm leaving Atlanta in about two hours, so I'll be there this evening. Love ya, babe." And the line went dead.
This couldn't be happening. How could he be so damn presumptuous? That bastard! Life as she knew it was headed straight to hell.
***
Billy snapped his phone shut and smiled. He'd actually see Marissa tonight. Tonight!
Glancing around his nearly empty apartment, he knew he wouldn't miss the place. He was more than ready to get the hell out of here, go back to Savannah, where he belonged. Three boxes and two suitcases. That was all his life had boiled down to. He'd pissed away the rest.
You’re such an asshole. You screwed up the best thing that ever happened to you.
That best thing flashed in his mind, all long, chestnut curls and full, crimson lips of her. And that luscious body. Christ, he missed her. Missed the amazing hot sex, her musical laugh, the vanilla scent of her hair. He even missed the arguments. A pang of guilt stabbed his gut over all he'd put her through. He’d had no right to gamble away anything of hers.
If only he had it to do over again, he'd play his cards differently, avoid hurting her, avoid all the fights. But damn, she was so much fun to spar with, the most worthy opponent he'd ever found. Until she got on his case over gambling, accused him of being some kind of addict, for God's sake.
He wasn't addicted to gambling; he was down on his luck lately, that's all. Speaking of, he sat on the floor, turned on his laptop, and got online. One more bet for the road. Looking up tonight's NBA games, he was about to phone his bookie when someone pounded on his door.
Damn it. Shutting the computer, he stood up and headed to the foyer. The second he unlocked the door, it flew open, and two guys came barreling toward him.
Aw, shit.
His bookie, Big Earl, shoved him against the wall, twisted his collar until he could hardly breathe. "I went to your work, Billy. They told me you was gone. Did you think you could skip out on your debt?" The guy's breath smelled like stale beer and past-their-prime onions.
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