by Gow, Kailin
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Henri said. “I’m sure they’d all want to know what he has to say. I mean he is one of the greatest chefs in the world.”
For the next forty-five minutes they talked about anything and nothing, chatting and telling each other little anecdotes that had brought them where they were. The seats around them slowly filled up and before long a microphone screeched with feedback.
“Mesdames. Messieurs.. C’est avec grand plaisir que je vous presente, Chef King.”
Errol was greeted with warm applause as he took to the stage. He looked better than ever and Taryn couldn’t believe she had managed to get involved with someone like him. That Chef Errol King, this highly-regarded, sought-after sexy man, was fucking her every night. For all the heartache and turmoil he caused her, she had to admit… there wasn’t a dull moment with him. She was aroused just watching him speak, the passion he had for life and cooking making him more and more attractive, along with the commanding strong presence he had onstage. He ruled the stage, and the crowd loved him.
“Merci. Merci.” The applause died down and Errol scanned his audience. “Si je suis ici parmi vous aujourd’hui…”
Taryn leaned closer to Henri. “I didn’t realize he’d be speaking in French the whole time.”
“Want me to translate?”
It would be impossible for him to translate everything Errol said. She shrugged. “Give me just the highlights.” I’ll get the rest from him tonight, she told herself.
At the end of his speech the audience applauded and asked for more, but he humbly bowed and left the stage. Taryn rose to go see him, but quickly noticed that Xaviera had beat her to him.
She finally had to resign herself. With Henri and Xaviera at the festival, Taryn would not have the chance to spend any time with Errol.
“I want to go congratulate him,” Henri said as he took a hold of Taryn’s arm and led her in the direction of the sexually charged couple.
Taryn wanted to find a way out, but nothing came to mind. Smiling like a dimwit, she stood by Henri as he thanked Errol for the inspiring speech.
“Thank you. I appreciate that, Henri.” Errol’s gaze swept over the young man than crossed over to Taryn.
She saw the tiniest hint of a question in his eyes and was suddenly happy to have Henri at her side. Checkmate, she thought.
“Let me introduce you to Mademoiselle Xaviera Tourneau.”
Taryn wanted to gag. Even on a fresh-faced young country boy like Henri, the woman had an effect. Henri turned beet red and fidgeted horribly as the woman smiled and winked at him.
“Enchanté,” Henri finally said as he extended his hand to her.
“Un plaisir,” Xaviera returned. She shook his hand, lingering far longer than was necessary. She turned to Errol. “Your students, no?”
“Yes,” Errol said. “That’s right. These are two of my students.”
“Have you told them?”
Taryn looked at Errol, trying to keep the horrified sensation she felt down in her gut from showing in her eyes.
“Well, I wanted to keep it as a surprise for Monday, but, hell. Miss Tourneau will be taking over the pastry classes at the Institute for the next three weeks.”
Surely she’d gone as white as a sheet, Taryn thought as Errol’s words echoed in her head. Next three weeks… this woman would be… in school… around Errol… damn it, no. This woman was a hellcat, a slut. A damned sex goddess, and it was clear she wanted Errol.
Chapter 14
The moment Mademoiselle Tourneau stood in front of the class she’d won over every male student and had made an enemy of every girl. Suddenly, students who’d never had the slightest interest in pastry were lining up to take her classes.
Sulking, Taryn moved to the back of the class. She didn’t want to be within range of the woman’s toxic aura.
“Bonjour,” she purred. “Je suis Mademoiselle Xaviera Tourneau.”
Francois, the hotheaded playboy seated next to Taryn leaned forward to whisper to Henri, “Think we can call her Madame X?”
“Les pattiseries, ma specialité, sont…”
Taryn soon lost track as Xaviera went on in quick French. Most of the classes at the Institute were available in English and many were bilingual. Taryn had taken care to avoid the classes given exclusively in French.
Only when a few other girls complained did Xaviera throw in a bit of English.
“Premièrement,” Xaviera said, then added with a condescending roll of her eyes, “Firstly… les outils… the tools of pastry making.”
One by one she pulled utensils out of a drawer and showed them to the class, asking students to name the utensil and explain how it was used. After the ever present rolling pin, pastry brush and fluted pastry trimmer, she pulled out what looked like two metal balls, one larger than the other, on the ends of a small wooden handle.
While a few hands flew up to give the answer, Xaviera directed her gaze menacingly at Taryn. “Quelle est le nom de cet outil?”
Feeling targeted, her mouth went dry. She’d seen the tool once before, but had no idea what it was called and couldn’t remember what it was used for. After a moment of excruciating silence, Taryn finally shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Xaviera said. Her eyes remained on Taryn, ridiculing her. She held the utensil up for a better look. “You’ve been taking this class for, how long? Three weeks? Are you telling me that Monsieur Bouthillier never brought out such an instrument?”
Monsieur Bouthillier, the teacher who’d introduced them all to pastry making, had never had such a utensil, Taryn wanted to say.
“How do you intend to pass this class if you don’t know the basics?” Xaviera went on.
All eyes were on Taryn as she sought to slide under her desk and disappear.
“Where are you from?” Xaviera snapped.
“New York.”
Madame X grimaced, shot a disdainful glance at the ceiling and tossed the funny looking tool on her desk. “Well, that explains everything.” She crossed her arms in front of her, lifting her bosom until it almost burst out of her top.
Incensed, Taryn balled her fists under her desk, outraged that this woman could treat her in such a way.
“I strongly suggest you learn your way around the kitchen if you want to pass this class.” Without bothering to look up at Taryn, Xaviera shot out the unmistakable threat.
Taryn simply nodded while her heart pounded out its fury. There was nothing she could say to the woman who now held the results of this class in her hands.
“Okay,” Xaviera finally said with an annoyed cluck of her tongue. “Who then can tell me what this is?”
Henri put his hand up and looked apologetically at Taryn. “I don’t remember the name, but it is used to make decorative flower petals and leaves.”
“Bien,” Xaviera said with a pleased nod. “Très bien.” She shot a victorious glare at Taryn before going on to the next tool.
By the end of the class, Taryn was exhausted. The tension in the class was palpable, or at least it felt that way to her. Did everyone else feel it? she wondered.
After lunch, Taryn headed to Errol’s class, but stopped abruptly when she saw Madame X in the room with him. She sat on his desk, her skirt pulled provocatively high on her thigh as Errol sat in his chair looking at her with wicked eyes.
Taryn swallowed the uncomfortable lump in her throat. This was only the first day with Xaviera. How was she going to survive the next three weeks? Not only did the woman deliberately berate her in front of the whole class, but now she was openly going after… After what? Taryn thought. After her man?
Damn it.
She waited until a few other students entered the class before going in to take her seat. Madame X seemed unperturbed by the male audience that now watched her with open interest. If anything, she thrived on it. She leaned toward Errol, exposing her lush breasts to him.
The whole room saw him glanced down at her brea
sts and Francois dared an envious whistle. It was enough to shake Errol out of his lust-filled gaze and take note of the class. He rose, said a few hushed words to Xaviera who turned and winked at the class before walking out. Her hips swayed an open invitation to all.
She was rewarded with a chorus of appreciative whistles.
Damn the bitch. Taryn wanted to throw something hard and heavy to the back of her head. Instead, she turned her attention to Errol who started the class. She quickly found that she couldn’t concentrate on the lesson. Visions of Errol with Madame X continually played in her mind. Her voluptuous breasts. That tiny little waist. Those alluring hips. Damn, the woman had everything to please a man. It was hard to imagine how Errol could resist.
Had they already? Would they?
Would he?
Taryn’s newly awakened sexuality felt threatened by this woman who’d obviously been playing the game for a long time. The tricks she must know to please a man.
“Taryn.”
The tricks she must have used on Errol, again and again.
“Taryn!”
No doubt Errol would get bored with Taryn’s limited knowledge. How long before he succumbed to…?
“The class is over, Taryn. You can go now.”
Taryn looked at Errol. The class was empty and Errol stood waiting to leave.
“Are you all right?”
She croaked out an unconvincing, “Yeah,” and put her things in her bag.
Errol came to her desk and looked at her, his eyes questioning.
Before he could voice a question, Taryn shrugged. “I’ll talk to you about it tonight.” She looked pointedly at him. “Will you be home tonight?”
“What a silly question. Of course I’ll be home tonight. Where else would I…?” He grinned knowingly.
Feeling flustered, panicked and frustrated, Taryn pulled her bag over her shoulder and pulled her thick technical cooking book to her chest. “I’ll see you later,” she said as she turned and walked out.
That night she arrived to find Errol already at home.
“You look relieved,” he commented.
“A long day. Just happy to finally be home.”
“Sorry I couldn’t wait around to give you a ride. I knew you had that last, late class and I wanted to get home to try out something new.”
“That’s okay.” She looked at the number of utensils set out on the counter. “What are you doing?”
“I got the strange impression that you weren’t very attentive in class today.”
“I guess I’m more tired than I thought.”
“You were off in space somewhere for the entire class,” Errol went on. “I thought I’d give you a quick run-through of today’s lesson.”
Taryn’s gaze swept over the array of cooking implements and noticed the little ball thing Madame X had humiliated her with.
“Today,” Errol said. “We took a look at efficiency in the kitchen. Most students learn to cook at home, at their leisure. They take their sweet time; finely chopping an onion, judiciously stirring a sauce, methodically sautéing mushrooms. And, of course, they take an eternity plating the whole damn thing. They have all the time in the world to create, concoct and stage the perfect meal for their friends and family… who, by the way, are never a good judge of true culinary skills.
“In the real world,” he went on, “we don’t have that luxury. Meals have to be prepared precisely and quickly. That’s why as chefs, we need to know our way around a kitchen and have an intimate knowledge of the right tools to use. ” He chuckled as he held Taryn’s apron up to her, his eyes turning dark and mysterious. “Take off all your clothes, Taryn, and put this on.”
Taryn’s mouth opened in surprise.
Errol’s voice was firm as he said, “Strip for me until you’re completely naked except for the apron.”
“But…I thought we were going to cook…”
“We are,” Errol said, turning the kitchen table around to sit down and face her. “In a way…now strip. I need you naked for this, Taryn.”
Taryn unbuttoned her shirt slowly, tossing her shirt onto a chair while Errol watched. She unzipped and peeled down her jeans, leaving her standing in front of Errol in just her lace bra and sheer panties. Her mind still on Madame Xaviera’s seductiveness, Taryn suddenly felt inadequate and unattractive in front of Errol.
“Now,” Errol said, “take off everything.” His voice was firm and commanding, not at all like a lover.
“I don’t…” Taryn started saying. She unhooked her bra and was letting it slide off when she covered herself back up.
Errol was in front of her in a swift moment, his hand, pulling her hand off of her bra. “Don’t cover up,” he said. His lips hover over her ears. “Don’t cover up your magnificent breasts, Taryn.”
“But they’re not so…so…large…voluptuous like…” Taryn dropped her chin to her chest.
“What is it? Something happened in class?” Errol put his hand to her shoulder.
She shook her head and nodded.
“Yes? No? Maybe?”
The playful tone of his voice was wonderful to hear, but not enough to pull Taryn out of the dark mood she’d allowed herself to slip into. Xaviera was getting to her, in every way possible, and she didn’t know how to cope with it. New to this game of love, lust and eroticism, she wasn’t equipped to compete with a woman like Xaviera.
Errol turned her to face him. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?”
The burn of tears stung her eyes as she looked up at him. She clenched her jaw to keep it from trembling, while a ball of hurt crammed her throat.
“It’s Xaviera, isn’t it?”
She shot him a quizzical gaze. “How d’y…?”
“Xaviera has always had a talent for annihilating any other women in the room… in the building… hell, in the city. What happened?”
Taryn shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Come on. I know her. I know you.”
“What do you know about her that would make you think she’d specifically target me?”
The playful grin faded and his gaze turned thoughtful and concerned. “You think she specifically targeted you? Only you?”
“I don’t think it, Errol. She did target only me. She was a sweetheart to all the guys in the class and was minimally polite to the other girls… but me?”
“What did she do?”
“She humiliated me in front of the whole class. She taunted me for not knowing…”
“For not knowing what?”
Frowning, Taryn turned to grab the stupid ball thing off the counter. “For not knowing what this damned thing is for.”
“Ah, yes.” Errol took it from her hand. “This is used to…”
“I know what the thing is for now,” Taryn growled.
Setting the instrument back on the counter, he pulled Taryn into his arms. “Don’t let her get to you. It’s a silly game she enjoys playing. She enjoys the torment of others. If she sees she’s getting to you, it’ll only get worse. She has that mean-streak in her. One might even call her a bully.”
Taryn pulled back to look at him. “Does she know?”
“Know what?”
“About us?”
He shrugged. “I didn’t tell her anything, but she probably suspects. She’s good at picking up on things like that.”
“She wants you, doesn’t she?”
He shrugged again. “Could be.”
Feeling defeated, Taryn dropped her gaze to the floor. “I can’t compete with someone like her.”
“Who said anything about competing?”
She met his gaze.
Errol grasped her shoulders, shook her playfully and kissed her brow. “Enough of this for now. I’ll pour you a glass of wine, you’ll sit back and relax a bit and dinner will be on the table in twenty minutes. How does that sound?”
Taryn sensed there was more to it than just that, but she didn’t argue or question. Sitting down with a glass of wine s
ounded good and she longed to put Madame X out of her mind.
Chapter 15
After a cozy dinner of pot-au-feu, Errol and Taryn lingered at the table over a last glass of wine. They’d avoid any conversation that could bring them back to Xaviera, but the question continued to gnaw at Taryn. Was Errol going to have an affair with her? Had it already begun?
“Now feel better?” Errol asked as he rose to clear the dishes.
Taryn nodded slightly before she rose to help him, but he shook his head and gestured to her seat. “Wait here.”
A few moments later she felt a strange sensation on the back of her shoulders. “What are…?”
“Close your eyes,” Errol ordered. He reached around to unclasp her bra then pulled it off her shoulders.
Once again she felt a strange, but pleasant sensation as something rolled along her back.
“What instrument could possibly create such a sensation on your skin?”
A gentle, probably fluted wheel ran smoothly back and forth. “A pastry trimmer.”
“Not bad.” He set the tool on the table.
Keeping her eyes closed, she waited a moment.
“Now this.”
She felt a gentle but sharp pounding on her back.
“Hurt?”
“Barely.”
“Good?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“A meat tenderizer.”
“Right.”
Another moment of silence passed before a sharp scraping sensation passed across her back. “That could be a lot of things. A spatula?”
He passed from shoulder to shoulder. “Feel the width.”
She concentrated on the slow passing of the instrument. “A dough scraper?”
