He chuckled lightly under his breath, most likely hearing the pant of her breath. She’d be embarrassed if she weren’t so damn excited. As he secured the band around her head, the spicy scent of his aftershave flooded her senses, making everything electric. Goose bumps skittered down her spine as his palm smoothed the back of her hair. Just before tugging the silky material over her eyes, Jason looked into them and said, “Bon appétit, Chef.”
A pop of a joint and the rustle of fabric told Colby that he was moving. The pad of his footsteps on the carpet grew faint, letting her know he was walking away, probably into the kitchen to get their dinner. She still couldn’t pick up any scents, but then, the thrum of expectation coursing through her body made it hard to concentrate. Soon those same soft footsteps returned, growing louder as Jason neared. “I hope you don’t mind, but I outsourced dinner tonight.”
She heard the plop of something heavy hit the ground. “Was that a brick?”
He chuckled again and the sound made her shiver. “Just my basket of provisions. This is a three-course tasting.”
She stopped herself from saying that all she wanted to taste at that moment was him. The admission seemed a bit over the top—even if it was the truth. Instead, she said, “Can’t wait to see what you brought me.”
The sounds of preparations stilled and then the warmth of Jason’s hands pressed on her thighs. “Colby, before we start, I just want you to know that I care about you. And all I ask is that you trust me.”
“I do trust you.” Right now, in this moment, she couldn’t think of anyone she trusted more.
He squeezed the sides of her legs and moved away, taking the heat of his skin along with him. A clink of glass meeting glass then, “Open your mouth and suck.”
Colby barked a laugh. The teasing tone of his voice told her he knew exactly how that had sounded. “So that’s how you’re gonna play it, huh?”
His seductive whisper came at her ear. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”
Heat zipped through her core as he grazed her jawline with a kiss, then he leaned away with a laugh, deep and throaty. The teasing helped. Suddenly, muscles in her lower back that she hadn’t realized were tense began to relax. Colby wrapped her lips around the straw she knew was waiting, and proceeded to suck. The familiar smell of rum, then the sweet bite of fruit—cherry or passion fruit—hit her palate.
It was smooth, refreshing. Tart. And then she knew exactly what it was. A hurricane. To be specific, a Pat O’Brien’s Hurricane, if she had to guess. It was delicious, one of her favorites when she was in high school and flaunting her fake ID. And just like that, the memories began.
High school graduation. Her dad beaming with pride. After shutting down the restaurant for a private party, he’d hired a limo to drive her friends and family to Bourbon Street. Normally, hanging with your parents wasn’t exactly “cool,” but her friends had always loved them. Especially her dad. He could hold his own, throwing back more drinks than they could, and he had deep pockets. Colby loved having him there because she adored him. The first stop they’d made that night was the back patio of Pat O’s where in front of the landmark Flaming Fountain the group guzzled hurricane after hurricane, laughing and dancing.
Colby clamped her already closed eyes tighter.
A cold sweat prickled the nape of her neck as she tore her lips from the straw. “Jason?” That one taste of hurricane revealed exactly what kind of meal he’d prepared.
“Shh,” he said, running his hands along her arms. “Just trust me. Please?”
It was the hesitant please that got her. She tried to relax the fists in her lap. Heaviness had replaced the desire once pooling in her stomach, but she didn’t want to be angry. If she was angry, they’d never get to dessert—the kind that she’d actually come there for.
She trusted Jason. His actions were severely misguided, and about the furthest thing from a turn on the man could get, but he meant well. She knew that.
And there was safety in this experience. He was here with her. The memories were going to burst through—there was no stopping them now—but he would be here to catch her. Protect her. Hold her. And hopefully in the end, kiss them all away.
Colby slowly nodded. “Let me have another sip.” If she was going to do this, at least the buzz would help dull the pain.
This time, when the slight sting of rum hit the back of her throat, she was prepared—this drink had an extra shot. Good, that would help. The sip went down easily so she took another. That was the danger in hurricanes, and the reason teenage boys loved supplying their dates with drink after drink. They tasted so good the effects snuck up on you.
After draining what had to be half the glass, she raised her head. Things were definitely fuzzier. “What’s for round two?”
Warm, calloused hands suddenly cradled her face as Jason’s firm lips pressed against hers. She latched onto his arms. Her mouth parted, reeling from the abrupt change in direction the evening had taken, and he nipped her upper lip between his teeth. Her breath caught and a chill shot down her arms as his tongue rimmed the inside of her mouth, licking the remnants of the fruity drink from her lips. She snatched the fabric of his cotton T-shirt, twisting it in her hands.
If this was what awaited her after every round, she could handle just about anything.
“God, you’re sexy,” he rasped, pulling his talented mouth away. His hands slipped from her face and slid down her arms. “And strong. You can do this, you know. I’ve got you.”
Colby nodded. Whether she could do this or not remained to be determined, but she wanted to see it through. Especially if she had to cook these meals for the rest of the summer, she needed to try. And the fact that Jason cared enough to want this for her made something in her chest ache, in a good way.
She let out a heavy breath as the sounds of him preparing her next course broke the silence. Stretching her hearing, she tried to get a handle on what it was he was doing, trying to guess what lay ahead. But she got nothing.
A moment later, “Open up.”
Hesitant but resolute, she did as Jason asked. And the first thing to touch her tongue was crisp, crunchy French bread. She moaned. That was something New Orleans always got right. The sharp crust of the outside, and the airy softness of the inside. It kicked hoagie bread’s ass. Then she detected the nuttiness of cheese and as she closed her mouth around the entire bite, the sweet luxurious lump of crab.
She chewed, waiting for the sting of hurt and pain to come. But it didn’t. The flavors were familiar and a series of memories played in rapid succession, but the ache was dulled. Thank God. Her spine relaxed against the cushions. The day of the competition had been a shock, tasting the spices and recipes of her past after so long. And at the restaurant, in her father’s kitchen, sampling the food to ensure the quality was a responsibility always done begrudgingly, in the shadow of the man who had broken her heart.
But tonight was different. This was with Jason. He was safe, and he understood.
So the memories continued with each new taste. The crunch of fried crawfish tails, the velvet tenderness of the linguine. The tang of the garlic and the smoke of the Andouille. All brought memories of meals she’d eaten, dates she had gone on, meals she had prepared. And they brought memories of her dad. Not the bad ones this time—only the good.
As Colby closed her mouth around a forkful of étouffée, the punch of herbs and cayenne enveloped her. She was no longer in Jason’s living room, but right back in her childhood kitchen, closing her eyes as she tasted her dad’s recipe. She heard the laughter in her daddy’s thick Cajun-accented voice as he asked, “Good stuff, cher?” Her younger self giggled with a nod.
And then the pain came.
It lanced through her heart, tearing through the hurt of the past twelve years, and adding intense longing for her dad. Undoubtedly, the man had made some huge mistakes. But in all the calls she’d never taken, in the years of messages he’d left on her machine, he’d said he had ended the affair.
For twelve years, he apologized to Colby’s voice mail. Telling her he loved her, wishing she’d come home. Saying how proud he was of everything she had accomplished, and confessing how much he missed her.
Colby had never taken his calls. She had never forgiven him in person. And now she never could.
Jason pulled her up and over onto his lap, wrapping her in his strong arms. She hadn’t even realized she was sobbing. “I’m here,” he said, ripping off her blindfold and pressing his forehead against hers. “It’s all right.”
But it wasn’t. And it might not ever be. Her dad was dead. Reconciliation was impossible. And it was all her fault.
Colby curled into a ball on his lap, bringing her legs to her chest and burrowing herself under his chin. Dessert would have to wait for another night. She closed her eyes and Jason tightened his grip around her, letting her cry.
Eventually her breathing stabilized and exhaustion swept her under, yet he continued to hold her. And, as Colby absorbed the comfort of Jason’s warmth and his strength, she realized that she was in serious trouble. Because if she wasn’t very careful, if she didn’t guard her heart, she would find herself falling hard for this amazing man. Again.
…
“Dad, you’re hanging with Colby and me?”
Jason rubbed the back of his neck. He glanced at the front door to Robicheaux’s, wishing he could see through the wood. Would it be weird if he told Emma yes? It hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours since seeing Colby, but already he was aching to hold her again.
Last night’s dinner had been emotional. The second Colby showed up at his door, Jason knew that she’d had a different agenda for the night. One that was as opposite from his as humanly possible. He’d nearly scrapped his good intentions when she made that comment about the blindfold, but he stuck to his guns. And as hard as it was watching Colby cry, he was glad he did, because at the end of those tears, Jason saw a glimpse of healing. She’d confided about her father and her regrets, and even thanked him for the food intervention—albeit with a saucy grin.
His plan was working.
Barging in on his daughter’s one-on-one time to check on Colby may be a little pathetic, but he was surprisingly okay with that. As long as he got to see her. Touch her. And maybe, when their audience wasn’t looking, steal a kiss or two from the sexy chef.
“I thought I’d see what junior sous-chefs do in a real kitchen,” he said, ruffling his daughter’s hair. “You don’t mind my staying for a while, do you?”
Emma’s face lit with a sly smile—though the reason behind it was anything but. Knowing how much she loved Colby already almost had Jason backpedaling to his truck. If he weren’t so confident about how this would play out, it would have. He’d be crushed if Emma grew attached only to have Vegas yank Colby back at the end of the summer, but this was going to work. It had to. If not for him and whatever closeness he was starting to feel for her, Jason needed Colby to stay for his daughter.
Emma latched onto his arm. “Nope. I know Colby would love to see you.”
He choked back a laugh. Subtlety was not her strong suit. Choosing not to comment on her presumption, he waved his free hand toward the entrance. “Then lead on, Chef Landry.”
Jason fell in step behind Emma’s bouncing ponytail, going over his strategy. Dinner had gone better than he’d dared expect. But his mission was far from complete. He needed to begin the second phase of his strategy. Secure another date. And that was the game plan for this afternoon.
Emma tugged open the door, the ding of bells giving away their entrance. A young family with a sleeping baby looked up from their meal along the wall of windows. Beside them, an elderly man flipped the page of his newspaper. Out on the deck, a group looked as though they were just finishing a lunch meeting. Soft jazz played overhead. Robicheaux’s was square in the middle of its afternoon lull, the slow time between the lunch rush and crazy dinner crowd. Perfect for what he had in mind.
As he and his daughter made their way toward the back, his best friend’s disembodied head peered around the kitchen door. “Hey, Em. You ready for that job yet?”
“Not yet, Uncle Cane,” she answered with a roll of her eyes. “I’m still only twelve.”
“Oh, that’s right. I keep forgetting. You’re just getting so old.” Cane winked at his goddaughter and then switched his attention to Jason. “You here for free labor, too?”
“Thought I’d see what you people were filling my daughter’s head with. Maybe steal a free meal while I was at it.”
Cane stepped through the pocket door, scratching his stubbled jaw. “The food is my sister’s domain, but something tells me she’ll hook you up.” His mouth tightened; clearly, he was still conflicted on his best friend and little sister hooking up. But then he shook his head and said, “She’s been going to town in the kitchen all morning.”
Jason’s ears perked up. He couldn’t help hoping their culinary adventure was the inspiration for her newfound zeal in the kitchen. A huge-ass smile broke across his face, and Cane’s eyes sharpened.
“Interesting.”
Emma turned to look at Jason too, and he quickly wiped the smirk off his face.
“What? That’s good, right?” he asked. “I’m just happy to hear it’s going well.”
Jason smiled, adding a pointed look that clearly told his friend to drop it. So far, with help from his parents, he’d kept Emma from learning about his date with Colby—and he wanted to keep it that way. Right now, all Emma knew was that Colby had gone on the camping trip, at her request, and then attended her assembly, again at her invitation. Her hopes of a relationship working out between them were already high enough without her knowing anything was actually going on. The last thing Jason needed was for his friend to nose around now and stir up his daughter’s curiosity.
With a discreet nod, Cane poked his head through the kitchen door. “Anyone order a preteen chef and a fire captain?” He glanced back at Emma and grinned. “If not, I’m tossing them into the bayou.”
From inside the kitchen Jason heard a squeal, then an exasperated shh, followed by Sherry’s unmistakable laugh. A moment later, both women scooted out behind their brother.
“Hey, Emma,” Colby said nonchalantly. “Here to learn more about the restaurant biz?”
She nodded. “Sorry for not calling first. Dad said you wouldn’t mind.”
“Don’t be silly, you’re welcome here any time.”
Silence fell. One that Sherry miraculously didn’t feel the need to fill with endless chatter. Colby wiped her hand on a stained white towel, looking at Emma and the straggling customers—anywhere but at him.
Jason had seen the woman upset. He’d seen her laughing. He’d seen her stumbling and confident and angry. But he couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her nervous. Instinct told him that her being nervous around him might just be a very good thing. And the exultant look on Sherry’s face confirmed it.
Colby shifted her feet. Her eyes finally met his and twin flushes of pink blossomed on her cheeks. It was adorable—and a hell of a turn on. Fiddling with the buttons on her chef jacket, she asked, “Dropping her off?”
“Actually, I thought I’d hang around.” He leaned back on his heels and grinned. “If you don’t mind, that is.”
Her blush deepened. “Of course I—we don’t mind.” She jutted her thumb in the direction of the kitchen and widened her eyes. “Emma, wanna introduce your dad to the world of prep work?”
“Awesome.”
Colby wagged her head for Emma to follow, and all four of them walked through the pocket door. She looked around at her audience with a frown. “Sherry, don’t you have some tables to check?”
“Nope,” she answered with a sweet smile. “All cleared out and taken care of. They’re camping.”
She pressed her lips together and turned to her brother. “And you? Don’t you have numbers to crunch? A bar to stock?”
“Already crunched,” Cane said, pushing himself up on a
countertop, settling in. “Already stocked.” He raised an eyebrow, dark eyes shining with amusement. Jason scratched the side of his jaw, trying to hide his smile.
This was why he loved being an honorary Robicheaux. He wouldn’t trade his own family for anything in the world; he just counted it as a blessing to be a part of both. The Robicheaux family teased as fiercely as they loved. They stuck their noses in each other’s business, and they didn’t even try to hide it. Colby was obviously flustered and didn’t want an audience, and that was exactly why they stayed. Even with his lingering concerns, Cane couldn’t pass up an opportunity to make his sister squirm. His best friend looked at Jason over Colby’s head and grinned.
“All right, then.” Blowing her bangs off her forehead, Colby pulled a binder down from a shelf on the wall. “These are the lists for the tasks that must be completed daily, or before each shift. Depending on the night or the shift, we have three or four cooks back here, including me, who are responsible for getting these things done. As you see, most of these are already completed. So, Emma, what should we do next?”
“Um…check the food prep sheet?”
“Excellent,” she affirmed. Pure delight lit up his daughter’s face and Jason’s chest tightened. “You’re a fast learner, girl. You’re gonna be running this place soon.”
“I’ve been trying to rope her into a job here for years,” Cane replied, lightly swatting Emma with a clean dishcloth. “She says she has to finish school first.”
They all laughed and as the gentle teasing and outright pranks continued, the worry lines on Colby’s face softened. The five of them, along with the other staff, readied the kitchen for the dinner service and then they moved into the front of the house for wait-staff prep.
It was during the time Emma was instructing her old man on the proper way to roll silverware that she spoke up. “Y’all should totally cater the firehouse celebration next month.”
“The firehouse celebration?” Colby asked. “What’s that?”
Taste the Heat Page 13
