Reality of Love Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Marika Ray

  What I didn’t like so much was this guy’s affected accent. It’s like he couldn’t decide what country he was from, so he tried out a new accent with every other word. Maybe I was just grumpy because Elle had spent more time on her phone than with me the minute we walked through the bakery door. When I envisioned spending the day with her, I didn’t imagine it like this.

  “Lo siento, Chef Ramsey. What did I miss?” Elle breezed back in, her phone jammed in the back pocket of her jeans. Yes, the woman was wearing jeans. Like they were painted on her, hugging every curve and valley of her gorgeous legs. It wasn’t fair. How was I supposed to concentrate when everything she wore reminded me of what she looked like without clothes on?

  “He’s rrready for zee show!”

  I took a deep breath and kept rolling, trying not to let my grumpiness over this guy’s ridiculous affectations douse my good mood. Elle frowned and moved closer, which certainly helped my mood. The chef ran off to put out a fire in another part of the kitchen—literally—the poor girl had gotten a little heavy-handed with the torch while caramelizing the crème brûlée. His sad little whimpers echoing through the bakery made the staff roll their eyes and keep working.

  Elle made a sound in the back of her throat. “No tiene cojones.”

  I choked out a laugh, abandoning my pie crust to turn fully into her. I folded my arms across my chest and gave her a lazy smile. “And how do you know he has no balls?”

  Her eyes widened. “How do you know what I said?”

  I shook my head. “I may not be fluent in Castilian Spanish, but my best friend is. I understand all of your insults and cursing.”

  She swallowed hard, but didn’t look away. “Well, that’s quite interesting. So, you know I called you—”

  “An asshole? Yes, I heard that, but I figured I deserved it, so I didn’t call you on it. I mean, I did just walk in on you naked.” I whispered that last part just to make sure no one overheard.

  Her cheeks definitely flushed pink. “I was not naked.”

  I thought of that flimsy material and what it didn’t cover. “Close enough.”

  Her chest rose with a deep inhale. Her eyelids fluttered and she dropped her gaze to my mouth. I leaned in closer and when she didn’t back away, I knew I had to think quick if I didn’t want this opportunity to float away. I unfolded my arms and put them on her hips, feeling how compact she was and loving every curve I’d never had the pleasure of putting my hands on. With a gentle push I had her walking backward, her eyes still hazy as I leaned in even closer, following her.

  Just a few steps behind her and we were in the walk-in cooler. The minute I was inside and no longer visible to the kitchen staff, I closed the distance. And none too soon because Elle started to open those lips, probably to ask why we were currently freezing our asses off in the cooler.

  I cut her off, my mouth pressed to her surprised lips. She stayed motionless at the contact and I froze, wondering if I’d just ruined everything. Then her lips moved and I sent up a thousand prayers of thanks and promises of good deeds in repayment for this single moment of heaven.

  Her arms snaked around my neck, her breasts once again smashed against my stomach. I pulled her in tighter and teased her lips until she opened wider, granting me access. My tongue flicked against hers and her hand gripped my hair in a tight fist. The pain was immediate and somehow a major turn-on. My head tilted to the side and I plunged in, needing to memorize the way she tasted and take everything she’d give me before she pushed me back. I was desperate for her, all while knowing there would be consequences.

  I’d just slid my hands down her hips to grab her backside, my hands squeezing curves I’d seen without clothes, but never imagined I’d get a chance to touch, when a loud slamming noise made us both jump. Our lips unlocked and her eyes widening comically told me our moment was over.

  Elle whisked her arms back, folding them over her chest and providing an obvious shield as she stepped back. My hands fell to my sides, empty and cold. And not just because we were in a cooler.

  Her lipstick was slightly smeared and, God help me, I couldn’t help a smirk from forming, knowing perfect Elle Fierro wasn’t so put together right then because of me.

  “Quit looking at me like that! We just got locked in the cooler,” Elle snapped, the fire back in her eyes, her words whipping me just like I knew they would.

  I looked over my shoulder and saw that the walk-in cooler door had indeed shut, locking us inside.

  “We better snuggle to keep warm.” I waggled my eyebrows at her, which she did not find funny.

  “Austin! Be serious. That didn’t just happen.” There was a little line between her eyebrows I wanted to touch and smooth out.

  Instead, I pulled her arms away from her body and held her hands, ignoring her warning look. “Oh, that happened all right. But don’t worry, we can keep it a secret if that makes you feel better. You really think the show would care?”

  She shook her head and pulled her hands away to run over her hair, pulling a few strands out of her neat bun. “Austin, it’s not about that. It’s about me and how I’d be perceived. I have to be a professional. My restaurant depends on it. I can’t be cavorting with the contestants.”

  I lifted my eyebrows, the first ribbon of anger swirling in my chest. “Okay, so let me get this straight. This is about you, not us. And kissing me in private is ‘cavorting,’ rather than a beautiful moment between two people who care about each other. Did I sum that up correctly?”

  Elle sighed, the fight leaving her as evidenced by her shoulders slumping. I didn’t think I’d ever seen her without perfect posture. “No. I mean, yes, you summed that up correctly, but no, that’s not how I meant it. I just—” She folded her arms again and I hated that she felt the need to put a barrier between us. “Listen, my mother drilled into my head that striving to be the best at whatever you do is expected. Anything less is a failure. She already thinks I’m crazy to love cooking when I’m behind the scenes and hot and sweaty. She’s a fashion model, she doesn’t understand my passion. But regardless, I’m driven and I have my own goals.”

  I frowned, hurt that she’d been so blasé about our kiss, yet recognizing that this was the most she’d opened up to me. Ever. If kissing the hell out of her had this effect, I might have to do it more often. Nodding to her, I waved my hand between us, urging her to continue.

  She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. I wanted to do that for her, to keep her warm in this cooler I’d locked us into, but I needed her to keep talking more than I wanted to touch her.

  “I’d already made a down payment on a space in New York when I got the call to be on Taste Test. It was the big break I’d been looking for. The publicity from this show practically assures my restaurant will be a success. I can’t mess this up.”

  Her eyes were pleading with me to understand. As much as it made me sick to my stomach to agree, I could see why she was backing off. I reached up and thumbed away a small smear of lipstick on the side of her mouth.

  “I see what you’re saying and I respect that you want good publicity for your restaurant. But I also know I like you. I want to get to know you better. And I think you like me too. Even if you did call me an asshole.”

  A flutter of a grin was all the encouragement I needed. “So, I’m asking you to see me in secret.”

  “Austin—” She started to shake her head, but the creaking of the door opening behind me cut her off.

  “There you two rascals are!” The chef was back. “I was lookin’ for the butter. Whatcha doin’ in here?”

  I looked back at Elle and widened my eyes. She rolled her lips inward to keep from laughing out loud. Somewhere between putting out a fire and fetching the butter, he’d lost his French accent.

  I walked by him to leave the cooler, Elle on my heels. “Just shootin’ the shit, partner.”

  I kept walking, even when I heard Elle snort behind me.

  “Annnndd...done!” Lindsey shouted the end of our
third challenge, dessert edition.

  I was finding it increasingly hard to focus on what I was doing, knowing Elle was watching me, knowing there were feelings between us that left me highly confused. After our hot kiss in the cooler yesterday, she didn’t revert into the closed-off woman she’d been before, but she certainly didn’t open up to me any further.

  I wasn’t friend-zoned exactly. I couldn’t describe it or define it. It was some weird in-between land where things went unspoken even when all the signs of attraction were there. Maybe I needed to call Marcos and ask him. I’m sure he’d know the name for it, like ghosting or cat fishing or goat tailing or some such shit.

  Somehow I pulled my head out of the clouds long enough to make an all-American apple pie for the day’s challenge. Except for my version, I made them individual bite-size pies made with a touch of brandy, each with their own crumbly cinnamon streusel topping. A tiny dollop of hand-churned whipped cream with a sprinkle of fresh cinnamon gave it a camera-worthy presentation. I snuck a look over at Elle, her calm gaze giving nothing away. If she remembered yesterday as clearly as I did, one couldn’t tell from her unruffled composure. She acted cool as a cucumber when I knew she was anything but. The girl had fire in her veins, she just had to let it burn free.

  “We have a little surprise for our judges before we get started with the taste testing.” Lindsey looked all too happy to have a secret no one on the set knew about. “Blindfolds!” She flung multicolored swaths of cloth into the air in a flourish. The judges groaned while I clenched my jaw to keep my lust under wrap. Elle with a blindfold? It was like the director tapped into my personal fantasies to come up with today’s surprise.

  The makeup crew set about putting the blindfolds on the judges and adjusting hair and makeup before the cameras started rolling again. I tried in vain to look away from Elle, but those ruby lips, with just a black blindfold above, gave me fodder for many lonely nights to come.

  Brandy was just as nervous as the first time she stood before the judges, her crème brûlée being the first dessert up for the blind tasting. The caramelized top reminded me of the insane chef yesterday running to put out the fire.

  “This is heaven in my mouth.” Bertrand was over the moon for her dessert, Elle and Michael agreeing and commenting far longer than they ever had before. Their enthusiasm had me worried. Although, if I was going to lose to Brandy, at least I could feel good about who won. She really was a sweet girl; you couldn’t help but want to see her succeed.

  Dale was next, his old-fashioned sundae taking on a unique spin with a chocolate stout fudge sauce topping vanilla ice cream and a chocolate Belgium waffle. The judges loved his version of this favorite, saying it was inspired and original.

  I was last again, not as confident with my dish since desserts weren’t really my thing. Plus, the chef yesterday was more than a little crazy. I wondered if he really taught me anything or if he just liked to practice his accents by talking out loud. Elle had said he knew his stuff when it came to pies, so I’d refer to rule number one and trust my judge.

  Before the judges could take a bite, I held my hands up silently to stop Lindsey from instructing them to eat and approached the judges’ table. Since my dessert was bite-sized, I had a harebrained idea that wouldn’t leave once it was in my head. My only excuse was that I was young and driven by testosterone and not actual brain cells.

  I picked up one small apple pie bite and held it between my thumb and index finger. I brought it up to Elle’s mouth and grazed it across her bottom lip. She pulled back a fraction of an inch in surprise before smiling and opening her mouth.

  All the blood in my body headed south and I hoped my excitement was covered by the table at waist height. I placed the dessert in her mouth and watched her lips close around it. I’d never seen anything more sensual than Elle eating my dessert from my fingers.

  At the last second—way too late to be helpful—the one brain cell actually functioning in this scenario screamed at me to stop what I was doing. Everyone in the studio would know I had a thing for her now. And that was exactly what she didn’t want. She’d be pissed and never talk to me again.

  So, I slid my thumb across her lips and down her chin, spreading the dessert on her flawless skin like a groom at his wedding when the cake-smash portion of the ceremony commenced. The contestants and crew laughed, and the sexual tension was diffused.

  Out of nowhere, something slammed down on my wrist, my hand only an inch or so away from Elle’s face in retreat. I looked down to see that it was Elle’s hand holding me in a vise grip. She held me there, clearly angry and not at all happy I’d smeared her with food on television, for all to see.

  I lifted my eyebrows in mock terror. After a few moments she let me go and I crept back to my station. There was no way she didn’t know it was me. I knew she liked to look put together. She was religious about it, almost as concerned about it as she was of her reputation in general. So she was going to be pissed.

  The only question was, how pissed?

  9

  Elle

  Eyes were said to be the windows to the soul. Austin should’ve counted himself lucky that my eyes were covered up by that ridiculous blindfold. Because if he’d looked into my eyes when he smeared his dessert across my face, he would’ve seen a raging inferno about to swallow him up, burn him to a crisp, and spit him out as charcoaled ash.

  I’d never been so angry in my life. Not even at my mother, and she had sorely tested me over my thirty-two years. I’d just explained to Austin the day before that keeping my reputation spotless was everything to me. Even if he didn’t agree, or simply didn’t understand the importance, didn’t mean he should purposely jeopardize that for me.

  I was livid.

  “I’m sorry to say, the contestant being voted off today is....” Lindsey drew out the announcement, adding drama that Tom ate up like little kids with buckets of chocolate on Halloween night. “...Dale Fitzgerald!”

  The remaining contestants all stared at each other in bewilderment. Even the cast gave an auditory gasp at the announcement. Everyone thought Austin should be going home. And if I’d had anything to do with it, he would have.

  I’d lobbied for him to be sent home when we huddled up to deliberate, but Bertrand and Michael felt he was progressing, so well, they wanted to see what he’d make next. Then Tom had poked his head in and basically threatened us not to send Austin home since he firmly believed Austin would single-handedly raise ratings with his antics and good looks.

  That only added fuel to the fire burning in my gut. Telling us we had to keep Austin here was like waving a red flag in front of a bull. But like the professional I damn well was, I slapped on a smile, squared my shoulders, and walked back onto the set to do my job.

  The cameras finally quit rolling when Tom was assured he got all the shots he needed for the episode. I threw caution to the wind and practically ran to my dressing room, my platform heels be damned. If I didn’t get out of there immediately, I was going to explode.

  I was practically vibrating with anger as I sat in my chair, alone in the dark room, coming to terms with what just happened out there. What bothered me the most was that for a brief second, I’d enjoyed Austin’s fingers in my mouth. It was so hot, I’d felt the room tilt and my belly dip like I’d taken a ride on a roller coaster. I’d lost control of my emotions in front of my colleagues and, soon, in front of a television audience.

  That wasn’t like me, which made Austin dangerous. He had some sort of control over my libido, his finger right on the pulse point, able to turn me off and on at his whim. I’d been right to back off yesterday and shut it down. Or try to, at least.

  I was actually surprised he wasn’t banging down my door right then, begging me to give him a chance. I’d made myself perfectly clear yesterday and he gave me space, which led me to falsely believe he’d given up. If today’s little demonstration was any indication, he hadn’t given up at all, rather just regrouped.

  I sighe
d and stood up to take off my dress, the anger still there but on a low simmer now. My temper ran hot, zero to sixty in a split second, but it also cooled off nearly as quick. I’d have to talk to Austin and explain that his stunt in front of everyone was unacceptable and couldn’t happen again. But that time wasn’t right now. A hot bath and glass of merlot sounded like what I needed.

  Overnight a late summer storm had blown in, the wind whipping the rain against the windows in my hotel room and keeping me up half the night. I still got up early and meticulously got myself ready. Today was the start of the filming for the fourth challenge. I was a bit doubtful of that happening, given the weather. Tom had insinuated that today’s filming would involve the great outdoors. Which was currently spitting rain like my uncle Arturo when his dentures didn’t fit right.

  I ran downstairs and saw Austin and Brandy chatting in the lobby while they waited for the valet to bring their rental cars. My intention was to sweep right by, but Austin snaked his arm out and pulled me into their conversation. He was smart enough to let go of my arm and keep his attention mostly on Brandy. My anger may have cooled a few degrees overnight, but it wasn’t gone.

  “Congratulations to you both on being the last contestants standing.” I forced my cheeks to pull my lips apart in some semblance of a smile.

  “Thanks!” Brandy was her bubbly self, oblivious to the black cloud hanging over my head and all over Los Angeles County this morning.

  “Wanna catch a ride with me? No use taking two cars.” Austin spoke carefully, his smile set in place, appearing casual to anyone looking. But I knew his eyes. They were a darker blue this morning, a look of determination that wasn’t normally there with his easygoing manner.

  “Sure.” That would be a perfect time to tell him where things stood. Private. Only a short time together before we had to get to the set.

  By the time Brandy got in her car and we climbed into Austin’s, I had a planned speech ready to go, the calm smile frozen on my face to keep up appearances should anyone see us leaving the hotel together.