Seducing the Chef (At First Sight #1)

by Janet Lane-Walters

Peggy Lou arched a brow. “You have great taste and the perfect body to wear them.”

  “And I have the right dress.”

  Before long a half dozen sets of unique lingerie sets sat beside the stockings and teddy. Allie chuckled. “I’d better stop before I max my card. Don’t worry. I’ll be back.”

  “And I look forward to seeing you again.”

  Chapter Two

  Warm water cascaded over Greg. He quickly washed his body and hair. He turned the spray to cold. The impact of the chance meeting with a blazing hot woman remained evident. Hard and aching and he didn’t know her name. The more than six months of celibacy hadn’t bothered him until he looked up and saw her peering over the railing of the second floor balcony. Her smile had triggered an instant arousal. With luck before too many days had passed he would have her in his arms, his bed and a few other places he could envision.

  With a wry chuckle he turned off the water, dried and dressed in shorts and a tee shirt. Who was she? How close were she and Steve? He knew the man upstairs in a casual was. Steve worked for a travel magazine and was always off on an adventure. He had never allowed anyone the use of his apartment before. Though Steve and the woman were blondes she certainly wasn’t Steve’s sister. Greg had encountered her several times.

  What was the connection? Hopefully not romantic. He wasn’t a man to intrude on someone else’s relationship. This time he feared he might.

  Damn, she was attractive. Her thick golden hair had brought an urge to thread his fingers through the silky mass. Her long legs had tantalized with images of beds and sex. Were her eyes blue? Was she as tall as she appeared?

  He pulled his hair into a club at his nape. After slipping keys, wallet and cell phone in his pockets he headed for town. As he passed The Coffee Mug the entwined aromas made his stomach growl.

  “Greg,” his senior sous chef called. “Join me.”

  “Another time. I’m hunting.”

  Mike laughed. “Could your quarry be a tall blonde with incredible legs? Saw her enter Peekaboo. Looks like your type.”

  Greg slapped Mike’s hand. “I owe you one.”

  “I’ll think of something. My anniversary’s next month.”

  “You and Lisa want an evening off.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Done.”

  As Greg sauntered down the street a plan unfolded. He recalled Peggy Lou’s habit of calling to a customer just as they exited the shop. Nine out of ten women turned but kept walking. With a bit of luck the intriguing blonde would do the same and end in his arms.

  At the boutique he peered inside. His body vibrated with excitement. She was there and his timing was perfect. She held a pen and leaned over the counter. He admired the way her blue shorts molded her tight rear. He stationed himself near the door.

  Moments later she lifted a huge ping canvas bag with the shop’s logo on the front. As she opened the door on cue, Peggy Lou spoke. The blonde turned her head and continued her escape. “I’ll definitely return,” she called.

  Greg stepped into her path. When the collision occurred he caught her in his arms. She fit perfectly. “Sorry,” he said.

  “My fault.” She turned her head. “You’re the man from the apartment below Steve’s.”

  He nodded. “Greg. Can I interest you in coffee and a cinnamon roll?”

  Her smile lit eyes as blue as he’d imagined. “Allie. Coffee sounds wonderful.”

  He drew a deep breath. She smelled of vanilla and woman. He wanted her.

  Whoa. Not so fast. Slow and easy is your style.

  He felt like a recently ignited flambé. “The Coffee Mug it is.”

  He released the hold that kept her pinned against his chest. The temptation to dive in for a heated kiss rapidly ended his good sense. Acting on a fantasy with a stranger on Main Street wasn’t cool. He stepped away. “Looks like you’ve been shopping. Research?”

  She walked beside him. “In a way. Bought lingerie like a woman faced with a feast. That place is this junkie’s downfall.”

  He winked. “Can I see your purchases?”

  She laughed. “Maybe someday.”

  He reached for her hand. Their fingers laced. The fire of a hot curry shot to his groin and returned his erection to active status. Someday had to be soon before he burst. In the past he’d been turned on by beautiful women but never with this intense desire to possess.

  They reached the bakery. “Choose a table. Cream and sugar?”

  “Just cream.”

  “Any preference about the pastry?”

  “Didn’t you mention cinnamon rolls?”

  “I did.” He saluted. “At your service. Be right back.”

  “I should go in. I want to buy rye bread, some sweet rolls and a pound of ground coffee.”

  “I can do that and you can pay me later.”

  Ten minutes later he returned with the coffee, two flaky cinnamon rolls and a bag with her purchases. As they ate; their conversation covered the town, the shops and restaurants. He gave her a rundown on what to order where, steering her away from his restaurant. He turned the conversation to books, movies and music. Their shared tastes pleased him and brought hope and desire to a peak.

  She finished her roll and the coffee. “I’ve heard about a restaurant that’s supposed to be superb. At least a dozen gourmet eaters I know have mentioned Five Cuisines.”

  Greg stared at the table. Great to hear a stranger talk about his restaurant. If he told her who he was how would she react? He wanted more than a one night stand. He wanted a chance to focus on them. If they headed for more he would confess.

  “It’s unique and upscale. I’ve also heard a comment or two about the food.”

  “Maybe we could have dinner there.” Her tongue darted to the corner of her mouth and removed a bit of icing.

  Greg’s hand tightened on his cup. He’d been tempted by the dot of sweetness but he’d been too slow. He leaned forward and touched her hand. “I wish we could but I’m scheduled to work from this evening through Sunday. The restaurant is closed Monday and Tuesday.” Was that disappointment he saw in her eyes? “How long are you staying in town?”

  “A week or so.” She finished the coffee. “I’d better go.”

  He caught her hand. “I’ll walk back with you.”

  “I would like that.”

  He carried the Coffee Mug bag and she held the boutique bag. As he clasped her hand he felt the sizzle again. They entered the apartment building and paused at the stairwell leading upstairs. He had to kiss her. Instead of turning to his unit he walked upstairs at her side.

  At the door of Steve’s apartment she put the key in the lock and turned to him. “We’ll have to do this again.”

  “How about tomorrow morning? We’ll go to breakfast.”

  She nodded. “Or we could eat in. Why don’t I do the honors since this morning was your treat?”

  “Accepted.” He braced one hand on the wall beside her head. He brushed his lips over hers. One taste wasn’t enough so he dove in for another.

  * * *

  When his mouth touched hers Allie felt as though the heat of a jalapeno pepper followed by the bite of a chipotle flowed through her arteries and lodged in her core. She lost her hold on the package. She heard the thud of the bag he held. One of his hands cupped her head. She braced hers on his shoulders and opened to his questing tongue.

  His aroma of citrus and spice intoxicated her. He tasted of coffee and cinnamon. His hand slid along her spine and crew her into a tight embrace. She rubbed her aching breasts against the wall of his chest. His erection pulsed against her belly. Her body responded with a rush of wetness.

  He raised his head. “You’re lethal.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Me? I would say you’re the intoxicating one and we’re about to plunge into a cauldron of boiling water.”

  “I like heat.” He pressed her against the door and captured her hands with one of his. With them held above her head he stroked her t
hroat with his tongue. She thrust her hips against him. She wanted, no needed, more.

  He brought his lips to hers. He released her hands. His leg slid between hers. When he caressed her breasts she rode his thigh seeking completion. Her breath came in gasping pants. She fumbled behind her for the door. If they didn’t move within seconds they would consummate in the hall.

  Wait. The word hovered in her throat but the urgency was too strong.

  An annoying buzzing sound continued with a strident demand. “Damn.” Greg straightened and pulled a cell from his pocket. He looked as dazed as Allie felt. “Yeah…I hear you…Not good…Give me half an hour.” He gazed into Allie’s eyes. “Got to go. Sorry.”

  “I’m not. We’re moving too fast.”

  “Agreed.” He touched her lips with a finger. “Is breakfast still on?”

  “Definitely.”

  “See you then. I’ll be on the terrace by eight AM. Just whistle and I’ll be there.” He pushed away. “We’ll take things slow.”

  She laughed. “Slow. Right.” She snatched the packages from the floor and entered the apartment where she flopped on the couch. How could a kiss become so hit so fast? Never happened before. She ran her hands along her arms. She wasn’t sure where she and Greg headed but she intended to enjoy the journey.

  * * *

  Allie’s laughter followed Greg down the stairs. Could they take this slow? He’d never become so quickly obsessed with possessing a woman. His relationships usually started slow and ended the same way. What was there about Allie that made him want to tie her to his bed and never let her go? All this desire to possess after less than an hour in her company made no sense.

  If the phone hadn’t interrupted he would have taken her in the hall. What a crude move? Yet she hadn’t called a halt. Was she eager to see where they headed? Could they have stopped long enough to step beyond a closed door? Tomorrow morning he would try to maintain his cool. Would he succeed?

  She enticed and made him burn. Slow seemed impossible but he had to walk that road. What did he know about her? Her first name, her friendship with Steve and her being a writer. She liked sexy underwear, mystery and romance novels and every type of music.

  He changed into the slacks and crisp white shirt he wore at Five Cuisines. While he dressed he considered what desserts he could substitute for the undelivered pears.

  As he walked to the restaurant Allie rose close to the surface of his thoughts. He was definitely in lust. From deep inside came a warning that what he felt was stronger than lust. Scary notion when he knew so little about her. Until his restaurant became a smashing success he wasn’t ready for a binding relationship.

  * * *

  Once Allie’s raging hormones settled she put the bread, rolls and coffee in the freezer and carried the lingerie to the guest room. She had to tell her sister about the boutique. An article in Good Lookin’ might be in order.

  Allie combed her tousled hair. She’d better see what was available at the grocery story for tomorrow’s breakfast. An omelet, biscuits, ham and fruit were on her list. She would prepare a simple, tasty and almost healthy meal. After the doorman gave her directions to the grocery store just outside town, she hurried to her car.

  A short time later with her other supplies in the cart she browsed in the produce department and selected blueberries, raspberries and blackberries. Though she’d studied at the Culinary Institute and aced the course, as a working chef she’d been a disaster. No discipline, one boss had said. Too experimental had been a second’s opinion. In less than a year and four jobs later she’d given up, gone to Good Eatin’ and worked her way to editor. She chuckled. With a boost from her dad.

  Once she paid for her purchases she returned to the apartment. She spent the afternoon researching Five Cuisines. Though she’d expected to find a trove of articles she found very few. One announcement of the opening, some ads in the area’s newspapers. No personal pieces and no pictures of the chef or the owner. Why not?

  She rose and walked to the balcony and sat on one of the redwood chairs. A warm breeze ruffled her hair. Sunlight glinted off the river. She must have dozed. When she woke she had time to dress in a white linen sheath and walk to the restaurant.

  A lean older man escorted her to a table in the German room. She admired the dolls dressed in traditional costumes. A variety of miniature gingerbread houses, some real and others ceramic, added to the décor. The table for two caused a moment of loneliness. She wished she wasn’t eating alone but she often did.

  The wine steward poured her a glass of light white wine. Moments later a waiter appeared with the appetizers. She bit into one of the dumplings and savored the tasty sausage stuffing. Each of the small bites contained a different flavor. Hot beer soup was followed by an apple and celery root salad. When the main course arrived Allie found the savory aroma of spices. She tasted the sauerbraten and red cabbage and gave the meal a ten.

  For dessert she had her choice of five dishes. Though the Black Forest Cake tempted she chose a small mixed fruit tart.

  When she finished the dessert and the rich sweet wine she sighed. The food had been marvelous. No matter what her father said if the meals in the other rooms were as delicious she would feature Five Cuisines in a future issue of Good Eatin’.

  A dozen questions circled in her thoughts. Should she send her congratulations to the chef or wait until Sunday evening. Though she wanted to meet the man responsible for what she’d eaten she would wait. There were four more meals to taste. If they were all as good as this one, she would beg him to allow an article and pictures.

  As she walked to Steve’s apartment her thoughts shifted to the meal she planned to prepare for Greg. Her body hummed with anticipation. How could she go slowly when every inch of her yearned to rush into his arms and experience the headiness of his kisses?

  Once inside she changed into shorts and carried a glass of wine to the balcony. She should be organizing her notes and writing her impressions of the room at the restaurant and about the food. Instead she relived the morning’s kisses. Never before had she experienced such an overwhelming desire for a man. Even thinking about him stroked her desire.

  When she roused from her dreams the sun had set and a pale moon rode above the river. She’d spent several hours lost in fantasies. She peered over the balcony railing but saw no lights from the apartment below. What did he do for a living? Did he work at one of the many restaurants in town? He’d seemed familiar with the menus. Maybe he had a job at the local hospital. He’d said he worked evenings so there was no sense sitting here in hopes of seeing him when he came home.

  Time to do some work on the potential feature and make notes for possible pictures. Tomorrow she’d prepare breakfast for him and then…She put that thought on hold and went inside.

  * * *

  The next morning she woke at seven. After showering she donned a set of underwear with hand-painted butterflies. She pulled on navy shorts and a pale blue top that tied beneath her breasts and bared her midriff. A mist of her favorite cologne completed her preparations.

  In the kitchen she assembled the ingredients. She mixed and cut biscuits lightly seasoned with cinnamon and nutmeg. She placed them on a baking sheet and covered them with a damp cloth. She primed the omelet pans, shredded two kinds of cheese and mixed the berries. This done, she walked to the balcony and peered over the railing.

  He was there. His body was as tempting as it had been yesterday. She swallowed to moisten her dry throat and whistled.

  Greg looked up. “Is it time?”

  “Breakfast can be on the table in ten minutes.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  * * *

  Greg dashed inside. He sped through a shower and dressed. As he dashed to the door he halted. Champagne. He had brought a bottle from the restaurant and had chilled it overnight. Mimosas went with everything and might take the edge off his raging desire to claim Allie’s body as soon as he entered Steve’s apartment.

  With
the chilled wine in hand he walked upstairs and knocked on the door. Allie answered. Her smile broadened and she tapped the bottle. “Mimosas, the perfect touch. Come with me.” He followed her to the kitchen where she took a carafe of orange juice from the refrigerator. She indicated the glasses on the table. “Do the honors while I tend to the rest of the meal.”

  He smelled cinnamon and coffee. As he opened the champagne he watched her pour a mixture into two metal omelet pans. She stood so he couldn’t see what she added. She accepted a glass and sipped. He caught a hint of vanilla on her skin. The way to a man’s heart might be through the stomach. For this chef, aroma, taste and presentation did the trick. She aced all three. He feared he was lost.

  “To a new friendship,” he said.

  She touched her glass to him. “May it long endure.”

  A buzzer sounded. She set the glass on the table and pulled a pan of biscuits from the oven. The hint of nutmeg intrigued him. She slid two perfect omelets on the plate and added slices of Canadian bacon.

  Greg took his plate and reached for the biscuits. He tasted the omelet and grinned. “Blueberries, raspberries and blackberries. Blue cheese and maybe provolone. Very nice.”

  “Are you surprised?”

  “Not one bit. Delighted.” He buttered the biscuit and ate some. “Are you by chance a chef?” If so he would offer her a job. Having her close might make the kitchen more interesting and hotter.

  She shook her head. “I studied culinary arts but was a misfit in a restaurant kitchen. In a year I found and lost four jobs. I’m not servile enough. After the fourth angry chef threatened to dismember me I gave up and joined the family business.”

  “A shame. You have a talent.”

  She sipped the mimosa. “I’d rather enjoy food than risk my life facing a tyrant.”

  “Are all chefs that bossy?”

  “Maybe not but the ones I worked for were. I don’t take orders well.” She dug into her food.

  Greg did the same. The subtle flavors she blended intrigued him as much as the woman across the table. She refilled their mimosas. They talked about places they’d visited and sights they’d seen.