by Ava Miles
Terrance hadn’t been ready to listen at the time, but Manny’s words had stayed with him. He’d been searching for his own perfect ingredient for a long while now, but he still hadn’t found the peace his friend had described to him—no matter how special or exotic or unusual the ingredients he’d sampled.
“Oh, my God,” Natalie said after her first taste of the cheese, interrupting his reverie. “I think I might have an orgasm. Right here in your kitchen.”
At forty dollars a pound, it warranted an orgasm. Thank goodness the high rollers coming to The Grand didn’t blink at the prices on the menu, so Mac gave him tremendous leeway when it came to ordering the best.
Usually he never missed the opportunity to make a wicked comment, but she’d put him in his place, and he respected that. “It’s life changing, isn’t it?”
“I don’t think I will ever buy blue cheese crumbles ever again.”
“Not in the plastic container?” he asked, aghast.
“Yes. We normal people can’t always afford this stuff or don’t have access to it. I would go broke if I served this at an event.”
Terrance shaved off a taste of the cheese for himself and slid it in his mouth. Sweet mother of… “Depends on the event. Who’s your biggest client?”
She made a face like the cheese had gone sour in her mouth. “The Denver Raiders.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“My ex-husband plays for them. It’s been…complicated since our divorce last year.”
“I see.” When she turned away, he covered the cheese and stored it. “We should join the others.”
“Yes,” she murmured, and something about her downcast expression told Terrance he had met a kindred spirit.
“Come on. I expect the appetizers will cheer you up.”
Maybe they would cheer him up too.
Chapter 6
Rhett wasn’t saying a word—he just sat there, humming into his bourbon. Of course, Elizabeth knew she was being a bitch. And Rhett always said he would never call a spade a spade when it was as obvious as a wart on someone’s face.
“Fine,” she huffed finally. “I’m not exactly cool with Terrance being here.”
Again, no word from her adopted brother and boss.
“Why don’t you say something?”
“Are you going to admit you became a green-eyed monster when he kissed Natalie’s hand?” he asked in that slow drawl of his.
“Hmm…” No way in hell she was going to do that.
“Then I don’t have anything to say except try and keep it clean around the kids.”
“Funny.”
When Terrance came out with Natalie after taking way too long for a mere tour—not that she’d been eyeing her watch or anything—her gaze clashed with his. He was pushing her buttons; there was no mistaking it. He’d never had eyes for anyone else during their time together, even though plenty of women had run their fingers over his arm in invitation at the parties in Rhett’s hotel suite.
And Natalie was gorgeous, dammit, so here she was pea green with envy, and not liking it one bit. Who could blame the woman for finding Terrance attractive? He radiated sexuality just as surely as the raging wall of fiery heat next to her.
“Sorry it took us so long,” Natalie said by way of an excuse. “Chef T ended up showing me around the kitchen, which made me drool.”
Drool was an appropriate phrase to use around Terrance, but it wasn’t because of his stainless steel appliances.
“Who’s ready to eat?” he asked softly.
God, the way his gravel and spice voice said that made her thighs clench. Food, she told herself. He was talking about food.
“Let’s see what you cooked up for us,” Rhett declared, rubbing her shoulder in comfort.
“Why don’t we head to the tasting room?”
Terrance led the way to a special room accented in buttery wood planks, with one glass wall showcasing The Grand’s impressive wine cellar. The feel was cozy yet elegant, dominated by a rustic iron barrel hoop chandelier hanging from six thick rope cords above a ten-person, live-edge trestle farm table.
“My God,” Natalie gasped. “How many bottles does your cellar have?”
“About a thousand, but I’m already planning on expanding it. I have access to some wines Mac’s former chef didn’t.”
“What about your bourbon selection?” Rhett asked. “We poker players aren’t big on wine.”
“You’d be surprised what the high rollers order after they’ve left the tables,” Terrance told him, “but you’re right. A lot of them prefer hard liquor. We have about two hundred bottles of bourbon, and again, I am going to be adding to Mac’s inventory.”
“We should have a bourbon tasting at the next poker game,” Rhett mused, plopping down in the leather high-backed chair at the head. “You need to get High Stakes running as smooth as a baby’s bottom so you can join us, T. It blows that you only have one night off a week now.”
Elizabeth wanted to grind her teeth. Of course, Terrance had been asked to join the weekly poker game. Mac had started the tradition, and now it included the Hales and their growing family.
“It still pisses me off your poker night is for boys only,” Elizabeth mused, taking a seat on Rhett’s right. “Jane and I would kick your butts.”
“I expect you would,” Terrance murmured from behind her, his mouth close to her ear, under the pretext of helping her into her seat like a gentleman.
Something he definitely wasn’t.
To torture him, she leaned back just a fraction and angled her neck to the left, exposing her nape, which he’d loved to kiss and use his teeth on. Hearing him clear his throat put the first smile on her face since she’d arrived.
“I’ll have my staff bring in the appetizers.”
“You know,” Rhett drawled, “my mama always says ‘don’t start a fire you can’t put out.’ My mama is a wise woman, Natalie.”
Everyone knew whom he was really addressing, but Natalie nodded gamely and said, “My mom always tells us not to bite off more than we can chew. What did your mom tell you, Elizabeth?”
“My mom wasn’t into sayings like that when I was growing up.”
Elizabeth’s mom had never given her words of wisdom, only cruel taunts. How she had delighted in proving her wrong over and over.
Pretty girls aren’t smart. By fifteen, she’d won the North American Open Chess Championship and came away with sixty thousand in winnings, adding to her college fund.
You’ll never amount to anything. She’d been accepted into Harvard after vowing to attend the best university in the United States.
Better land a rich Harvard boy fast and get pregnant so he’ll take care of you. She’d made her own millions as Rhett’s poker scout and invested it wisely, using all she’d learned at Harvard.
Elizabeth had remade herself at Harvard.
In the beginning, she hadn’t fit in. She was a sexy blond, and some people couldn’t see past her looks and lack of polish. But someone had been looking out for her, because the conservative Jane Wilcox had been assigned as her roommate. Under her new friend’s guidance, Elizabeth cultivated her manners, dyed her hair brown to counter all the dumb blond comments, and bought more conservative clothing.
Ultimately, becoming Vixen had simply been a matter of putting on a new mask, one she welcomed, enjoyed, and sometimes exploited. If men were stupid enough to underestimate her, she was all too willing to play them.
But then Terrance came along and upended her world, making her want to unmask herself.
Until the night he punched someone.
Vince hadn’t seemed possessive or scary in the beginning, even though she’d sensed an air of violence in him. Terrance possessed that same volatile air. He was jealous of the men who leered at her, the ones she played by batting her eyelashes as she carefully deconstructed their poker strategies.
His show of violence had been enough to send the dark part of her, perpetually scared and wou
nded from Vince, running as if her life still depended on it.
As Terrance strolled in with two assistants, the air of danger around him was still tangible. He was angry with her, and their impromptu connection over dessert the other night, a momentary truce, seemed to have dissolved like meringue dropped in water.
Terrance stood behind her again, but she didn’t know if it was because he couldn’t stand to see her face, or if he wanted to smell the Chanel perfume she wore—the one that used to drive him crazy.
“I spoke to Jane and Matt about their favorite dishes—” Terrance told them, handing out card stock embossed with The Grand’s logo, “—so I created selections that I think will suit them. Rhett suggested we do tasting cards, so everyone can rate the dishes and leave any comments. That way, everyone can enjoy the food without debating the choices. He figured it would save you some heartburn.”
Rhett was probably worried she’d tear one of the dishes apart out of frustration. He wasn’t necessarily wrong. She wanted to either fight with Terrance or tear off his chef jacket and pants and make love to him until she screamed—she wasn’t sure which.
“Beef skewers served with horseradish cream,” he said in a silky tone as he pointed to the first platter. “I understand Matt is an all-American man when it comes to meat.”
“All of us Hales love meat,” Natalie said. “Except Caroline, who likes salad. We’re thinking about disowning her.”
Terrance and Rhett laughed, but Elizabeth couldn’t even muster a smile. She was too aware of his husky voice, which seemed to wrap around her.
“Then we have shrimp wrapped in one of my all-time favorite bacons. It’s cob-smoked, a rare and remarkable flavor, coming to us from the Native American tradition back East.”
“Like a corn cob?” Rhett asked, plopping one of the appetizers off the tray without waiting for anyone to serve him. “Holy heck! This is amazing. Rye would love it.”
“Yes, he would,” Terrance agreed, since he also knew their country singer friend well.
“I heard you knew Rye Crenshaw,” Natalie said, clapping her hands. “Please tell me he’s coming to visit. Jill couldn’t stop talking about the impromptu concert he gave for your wife before you became engaged.”
“That boy is about ready to get himself hitched to the sweetest chef you’ve ever met. He’s coming here for a bachelor weekend in the near future, isn’t he, T?”
“I’m already planning the menu,” Terrance said.
“I don’t expect he’s going to sing here, but who knows.”
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” Natalie said.
“Okay, T. What else do you have for us?”
“Crab cake sliders for Jane. And finally pizza, since they told me it was their first meal together.”
“Oh how romantic,” Natalie breathed out.
Elizabeth had to fight against rolling her eyes. It would be romantic if she wasn’t so upset at Terrance. Who knew he had a nostalgic side? Okay, that wasn’t fair. Hadn’t he served her favorite white wine?
“I made them mini meat-lovers calzones,” he said. “Easier to munch on than pizza slices at a party.”
“But much harder to make,” Natalie said, snaking out a hand like she wanted to snag one off the plate. “Wow! I love this idea. I might have to steal it.”
“Steal away,” Terrance said, and even Elizabeth could hear the smile in his voice. His profession always lit him up inside. Like her, he was one of the rare people who loved what he did. “Enjoy.”
She was so sensitive to Terrance’s presence, she knew the moment he left the room. Funny how when she’d agreed to do this, she hadn’t considered how hard it would be to eat. Terrance had a way of filling her belly with girly butterflies.
Rhett and Natalie made up for her lack of enjoyment by moaning their way through the appetizers all the way to the desserts. By the time everyone had finished writing down their scores and comments, Terrance was standing behind her again, crowding her personal space and all her senses.
She forcibly pushed back from the table, hoping to run over his toes or smack him in the shins. But he’d always been light on his feet, and he easily ducked out of her way, a knowing look in his eyes.
Rhett stood and pounded him on the back. Terrance didn’t move a muscle—a feat few men could muster.
“Man, I can’t wait until the party. I’m going to gobble like a hog, eating those babies all over again.”
Natalie patted her stomach. “I’m not going to be able to eat any of my mom’s dinner tonight, but it was worth it. Chef T, everything was incredible. Thank you.”
He held her hand a fraction too long, just to piss Elizabeth off, she suspected.
“My pleasure, Natalie. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
Then it came time for her to say something. Her mind fumbled for a minute. “I’m sure Jane and Matt will be happy with your final selections.” It was the most gracious she could be at the moment.
He must have known because his smile turned secretive, his bottle green eyes filled with a challenge. “I’ll see you soon, Elizabeth.”
As they left the restaurant, she linked her arm through Rhett’s and said, “How about we play some poker?”
Now that Jane had outted them, she had the freedom to play in public, and while it wasn’t something she usually did, she felt the urge to battle the hand of fate and see how she could play the cards she was dealt.
Anything to get her mind off Terrance.
Chapter 7
Election day spirits were high, and early exit polling indicated Matt was winning in a landslide. Even his election consultant from Denver, a brooding, serious man, was smiling when Elizabeth arrived at the restaurant for the party.
She’d purposely arrived late since Jane had texted her to say she and Matt were having a celebratory dinner alone. If that wasn’t code for election-win sex, Elizabeth didn’t know what was.
Her one-shoulder gold Armani dress had been purposefully selected to tantalize Terrance, who would undoubtedly be making the rounds. He had been in charge of the food at all of Rhett’s formal parties at The Peacock, and he’d always come out to mingle midway through the evening, once everything was under control in the kitchen. He would share a bourbon with Rhett and Mac before angling his way through the crowd—being stopped by woman after woman and his buddies—until he reached her. Then he would sweep his eyes down from the top of her dress to the tips of her high heels and pretty much lick his chops, knowing he was going to peel her out of that dress in short order.
Tonight the only peeling he was going to do was for the potatoes in the leek potato patties he was serving oozing with goat cheese. But he was going to look. And she was going to torture him.
As much as she tried to tell herself to ignore him and play it safe, she couldn’t. He was here, and she had to push back at him like he was pushing at her.
Even though she had no idea where that would lead.
Okay, that was a lie. The greedy, lust-filled goddess inside her wanted him in her bed. The scared woman who’d run from him wanted to give him another chance to show her that he could be her non-violent Prince Charming.
Maybe the two sides could compromise, and she and Terrance could have a sex-only agreement while he was in town?
When she caught sight of him already mingling with the crowd at the party, her heart leaped into her throat, and she knew it was impossible. No man had ever opened her up to so much emotion, good and bad. He’d taught her the difference between sex and making love without even meaning to. The intimacy between them had been there from the start, like it had been ordained.
No, there would never be anything no-strings with Terrance.
Darn it all.
His head turned then, as if sensing her, and those bottle-green eyes seemed to glow like sea glass on a moonlit beach as they made that seductive trek down her body. But instead of excusing himself from talking to Jill and her husband, Brian, and coming to her, he returned his attention t
o their conversation.
“Girl, you need a drink,” Natalie said, snagging her arm. “If you don’t stop staring at Terrance, I’m afraid he might haul you over his shoulder and carry you upstairs to a hotel room.”
Her belly fluttered at the thought.
“I’m not after him, by the way,” Natalie added, shoving a glass of white wine into her hand from a nearby waiter’s tray. “He’s gorgeous and interesting and tantalizing, but I’m done with chest-beating alphas.”
Now that got Elizabeth’s attention. “Why?”
“Carpet burns. On my butt and my heart.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Jane said I would like you, and she was right. I’m sorry I acted like a bitch the other day.”
Natalie led the way to High Stakes’ curvy bar past the fire wall, which always dazzled her senses, and signaled the bartender for a Manhattan. “Please. You were acting like a bitch to him. I was just in the way. I told him to stop trying to make you jealous when we went into the kitchen.”
Her wine went down the wrong pipe, and Natalie had to pound her back. “Really?” she finally choked out.
“Really. Come on. The guests of honor might not be here yet, but my sisters are, and we’ll protect you from doing something stupid.”
Soon they were standing with Moira and Caroline Hale, drinking wine and moaning over the food.
“I’m going to have to eat salads for the rest of the week,” Caroline said.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, you’re a size six. What in the world are you worried about?” Jill said, slinging her arm around her cousin as she joined the group. “I’m up to a size eight after the twins, and you don’t see me complaining.”
“It’s because your boobs are like milk jugs now,” Natalie told her.
Elizabeth almost spewed out her white wine. This was the second time Natalie’s directness had thrown her for a loop.
Moira peered at Jill’s awesome breasts. “You don’t need a padded bra right now, that’s for sure.”
