Huddle with Me Tonight (Kimani Romance)

by Farrah Rochon

  She was quick on the recovery, sending him a super sweet smile of her own as she slid a jar from the spice rack and added parsley flakes to the empty pot.

  “Why should we pretend when the real thing is so much more convincing?” she asked.

  Torrian threw his head back and laughed. It was so natural, so deep, so incredibly sexy. The picture of him on the cover of his cookbook popped into her mind, reminding Paige that behind that rich, seductive voice was a body to die for.

  “Got it,” the director called.

  “You’re both naturals,” John said, coming from the side of the set.

  “A natural in front of the camera. That’s me,” Paige snorted as she came from behind the cooking station.

  A hand touched her elbow. “Hey, you did okay,” Torrian said.

  “Thank you,” she said, trying to stave off the breathlessness that wanted to creep into her voice.

  It was no use denying the healthy attraction snapping like firecrackers between them. Just the slightest touch from him caused her blood to boil. The longer that hand remained on her elbow, the shallower her breathing became, to the point that she was almost lightheaded by the time they made it back to the conference room.

  “How did it go?” David asked when they reentered the conference room.

  Torrian blew his question off with a wave of his hand. “I’m not the one who needs to worry,” he said.

  Paige cut her eyes at him, but could only laugh at his teasing gibe. “Did Jory and Peter leave?” she asked.

  “Thank God,” David nodded. “That’s two of the biggest sports nuts I’ve ever met. They left me with a list of clients I now have to hit up for autographs.”

  “They are in heaven,” Paige agreed.

  “The station manager should be back in a minute to explain how the taping is going to work,” David said. “Someone was typing out a schedule. They want to start with appetizers on Friday morning.”

  “Appetizers,” Torrian mused. “You think you can handle that?”

  Paige leveled him with a playfully stern look. “Bring. It. On.”

  Chapter 10

  Torrian spotted Deirdre as soon as he walked through the swinging double doors that led to the Fire Starter Grille’s state-of-the-art kitchen. He strolled up behind Dee and planted a kiss on her cheek. “I see your new toy finally arrived.”

  Deirdre whipped around. “Hey, there.” She returned his kiss. “Yes, my toy is here.” She smiled down at the gleaming professional-grade convection oven.

  Torrian felt his eyes glazing over as Deirdre began an excited monologue about the wonders of the new oven. All he could think about was the woman he’d spent the morning with at the news station.

  Paige Turner excited the hell out of him. It was as simple as that. But then, there was nothing simple about her. She was a contradiction wrapped up in a sinfully delicious package. One minute she was the confident, no-nonsense reviewer who had no qualms about standing up to him on her blog, and the next minute she was as timid as a schoolgirl, afraid of speaking in front of the camera.

  As turned on as he’d been by that self-assured, I-can-do-anything attitude, witnessing her softer, more vulnerable side had ignited something in him that Torrian had yet to extinguish, even hours after leaving her at the TV station.

  He’d felt that spark between them; had seen the look in her eyes as she’d held his gaze. She wasn’t immune to this indescribable feeling that had taken hold of them since the moment they’d met, no matter how much she tried to fight it.

  “Torrian!”

  He jumped at Deirdre’s fingers snapping in his face. “What?”

  “I see you’ve been paying attention to every word I’ve said.”

  “Sorry, Dee. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

  “That’s what I was asking about. What was the big mysterious thing the people down at Channel 10 wanted to talk over with you and David?”

  “They want me on their morning news show,” Torrian answered.

  “I figured that much,” Deirdre said. She zeroed in on a smudge on the oven’s door, rubbing it with the towel she pulled from her arm. “I just thought it was strange they wouldn’t just come out and ask you over the phone, or through David. Why be so hush-hush about it?”

  “I should clarify that,” Torrian said. “They want me to cook on their morning show.”

  Deirdre’s brow shot up. “You? Cook?”

  “Hey,” Torrian said. “I can get down in the kitchen when I have to.”

  “I know that. I’m the one who taught you. The problem is, you haven’t had to ‘get down’ in the kitchen in years,” Deirdre said, making air quotes with her fingers. “When was the last time you even scrambled your own egg?”

  Torrian didn’t waste time trying to remember. It had been years since he’d had to cook a meal for himself. If Deirdre didn’t feed him, he had about a dozen five-star restaurants on speed dial. Not a single one of them offered delivery service, but Torrian always had a hot meal at his door within a half hour of his call.

  “You’re right,” Torrian admitted. “Which is why I need you to give me a refresher course. If I’m going to win this competition, I’ve got to practice.”

  “Competition?”

  “Paige Turner will be on the show, too.” Torrian grinned at Dee’s stunned look. “They’ve come up with this idea of a cook-off between me and Paige. Starting Friday, and for the next five weeks, we’re going to prepare a dish on a special morning segment they’re calling Playing with Fire. After each segment, a panel of judges will pick the better of the two dishes, and the station will give twenty-thousand dollars to a charity of the winner’s choice. I picked Dante’s high school band as one of my charities. I figure it’ll help with their trip to Italy.”

  “Torrian, that’s wonderful,” Deirdre said. “But let’s be honest, do you really think you have a chance of winning?”

  “Have some faith, Dee.” Torrian laughed. His sister leveled him with a sardonic look. Torrian held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I’ll admit it’s been a while since I’ve had to cook for myself, but I’m not totally inept when it comes to the kitchen,” Torrian said.

  “I doubt it’s enough to win in a competition, especially when you’re going to be so distracted.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Deirdre crossed her arms over her chest, a knowing look on her face. “Don’t even try to deny it. I know you’ve noticed how gorgeous Paige is.”

  “She’s fine. So what?” Torrian shrugged. Deirdre wasn’t buying it, which was expected. His sister was no fool. “Fine,” Torrian exasperated. “She’s gorgeous. Is that what you wanted me to say?”

  “Yes,” Deirdre smiled. “The first step is admitting your weakness, which for you, happens to be beautiful women.”

  “Are you going to help me out or what? Even though I think I can hold my own in the kitchen with Paige, a few pointers never hurt.”

  “When have I ever said no to you?” Deirdre asked, “Even when I probably should have.”

  “I knew I could count on you, Dee,” he planted a kiss on her cheek. “I’m heading home. And instead of waiting for you to cook, I’m going to fend for myself tonight.”

  “Uh-huh,” Deirdre murmured. “Remember to put those takeout boxes in the garbage.”

  Torrian’s head fell back with a deep chuckle as he exited the kitchen.

  Paige stared at the ceiling, too afraid to look at the clock on her nightstand. After her restless night getting out of bed was the last thing Paige wanted to do at the moment.

  No. That was a lie.

  The last thing she wanted to do was stand in front of that camera while all of New York watched her make a fool of herself. It wasn’t just the thought of everyone in the tri-state area watching, but one person in particular, and he had the best seat in the house to witness her humiliation, seeing as he would be just steps away from her.

  Paige expelled a frustrated sigh into the still air. She’d tried
not to be so affected by him, but how could she not? The man was the object of millions of women’s fantasies; how could she be immune?

  Even if he had turned out to be a pretentious jerk, she would still have been physically attracted to him. But every day she discovered another reason why Torrian was the polar opposite of what she’d anticipated. Even when he brought up the blog, it was in a teasing, nonconfrontational way. He was no longer enemy number one. And that scared Paige more than anything.

  “You can do this Olivia Paige.”

  She peered at the alarm clock. It was 4:29 a.m. She had to be at the studio in another hour and a half. She could sleep until five.

  Paige turned over and covered her head with the other pillow.

  “Oh, whatever!” she growled. There was no way she was falling back to sleep. She shoved the covers off, throwing her legs over the side of the bed.

  “You were crazy to sign up for this in the first place.”

  Her cell phone rang, and Paige’s heart instantly started to beat faster. A call this early in the morning was never good news. Before she’d even checked the caller ID, a dozen scenarios had run through her head. Had Dad’s high blood pressure caught up with him and put him in the hospital with a stroke? Had something happened to one of her nieces or nephews?

  Paige grabbed the phone from her bedside table and checked the tiny screen. She didn’t recognize the number, but for some reason it seemed familiar.

  “Hello?” she answered.

  “Did I wake you?” came the low voice on the other end of the line.

  Her heart rate escalated for an entirely new reason.

  “It is four-thirty in the morning,” Paige answered as nonchalantly as she could while her brain raced with visions of how Torrian looked on the other side of the phone. What did he sleep in: pajamas or just boxers? She would not allow her mind to imagine him in nothing at all.

  Paige pulled the phone away from her mouth so she could let out a quick, audible breath.

  “I’m sorry,” he was saying when she returned the phone to her ear. “I figured you would be awake since we have to be at the studio soon.”

  “Which begs the question, why are you calling when you’re going to see me in just a few hours?”

  “We never got the chance to finish the conversation we started over dinner,” he answered. “I was hoping we could get our story straight before we got in front of the cameras today.”

  “So, what is our story?” Paige asked, scooting up and propping her back against the headboard.

  “You tell me, Paige.”

  A tingle traveled down her spine at the sound of him saying her name. It was as soft as silk, and Paige could all too easily imagine that voice whispering in her ear in the early morning while he lay next to her in the flesh.

  Get a grip! She had to get over this infatuation if she was going to work so closely with him.

  “I told you, I won’t lie to my readers,” she said.

  “I can respect that,” he returned. “Just try to soften the blow, okay? I’m willing to say that I was riled up by your review and lost my temper. And your baiting me just fueled the fire.”

  “Did I really bait you?” she asked.

  “C’mon, Paige.” A hint of teasing lightened his voice. “You know those shots you took about last year’s championship game were pretty cheap.”

  “I’ll admit those were low blows, but I was only defending myself. Remember, you’re the one who attacked first.”

  “Please stop using that word ‘attack,’” he pleaded in a desperate whisper, his voice filled with remorse. “I don’t attack women.”

  “I’m sorry,” she returned softly, pulling the covers under her chin. At the pain she heard in his voice, all she wanted to do was make it better for him. “I’ll go along with what you’re suggesting,” Paige said.

  “Thank you.” The words came out in a whoosh of soul-deep gratitude.

  “It’s the right thing to do,” she continued. “I believe viewers will enjoy it more if we lighten the tone of the cook-off; make it a friendly competition. This should be more about our charities than about the rift between us.”

  “I don’t like people thinking there is a rift between us.” He paused, then said, “I don’t like you thinking that either.”

  Paige tried to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. After a few difficult breaths she finally said, “I guess I can think of us as colleagues now that we’re working together.”

  “You know I want more than that.”

  “I…Torrian,” Paige started again. She wasn’t sure what she wanted when it came to him. No, she knew what she wanted; she just didn’t know if she could allow it.

  “We have to be at the studio in a little over an hour,” Torrian reminded her after she didn’t speak for several moments.

  “Oh, yes. Right,” Paige said.

  “Paige?”

  “Yes?”

  “Just because I’m a nice guy, don’t think I won’t clean the floor with you today. Be prepared to lose big.” He chuckled, then disconnected.

  Paige slammed the phone on the nightstand with more force than necessary, determined to shut Torrian Smallwood’s cocky, beautiful mouth.

  Cooking might not be her favorite pastime, but she would never go hungry. It had been impossible for her not to pick up some culinary skills growing up in a family full of cooks. And with her sister Nicole’s recipe for crawfish and crab crudités, Paige knew she had a killer recipe.

  She quickly went through her normal morning routine, unwrapping the silk scarf she used to tie her hair down, and running a comb through it. The crew down at Channel 10 would take care of her makeup.

  Throwing on her favorite running suit, Paige grabbed the bag she’d packed to bring with her to the studio.

  When she walked outside, she decided to catch a cab instead of taking the subway. Fifteen minutes later, the driver pulled in front of the building that housed Channel 10. She took the elevator to the twenty-eighth floor and spotted Chelsea Robert through the glass doors.

  “Good morning,” the station manager greeted her. “I was just on my way to the green room to make sure everything was set up for you and Torrian.”

  Paige followed her to a room just off to the right of the conference room where they’d met earlier in the week.

  “Help yourself to breakfast.” Chelsea gestured to a variety of bagels arranged in a basket on a side table.

  Paige eyed the food, and her stomach pitched. Her nerves were taking up all available space in there. “I probably shouldn’t eat anything,” Paige said, unable to disguise the slight tremble in her voice.

  “You aren’t nervous, are you?” Chelsea asked with a hint of concern.

  “Not really,” Paige lied. She opted for a bottle of water on her way to the seating area.

  The look on Chelsea Robert’s face said that she didn’t believe Paige’s claim, and Paige could not deny the spike of anxiety that had begun to thrum through her as the hour to her big television debut drew closer.

  “I’m not used to being in front of a camera,” she admitted. “So I guess I am a bit nervous. Don’t worry, I’ll be okay,” she assured Chelsea.

  “Oh, I know you will,” she answered. “Just follow Torrian’s lead. He’s a natural.”

  Yes, he was. Paige had watched him in enough interviews over the years to know that Torrian was completely comfortable before the camera. Hopefully, once they got started, the edginess she was feeling would ease. Although having Torrian there wouldn’t help; what he elicited in her was far from calming.

  The door opened and John, the production assistant who’d guided them to makeup the first day they’d come to the studio, entered, followed by Torrian who looked so good he didn’t need to worry about going to hair and makeup.

  “Good morning,” Torrian greeted in his deep voice.

  “Good morning,” Paige and Chelsea answered at the same time.

  Chelsea clamped her hands together. �
�Well, now that you’re both here, I’m going to turn this over to John. He’ll take you up to makeup in just a bit, but first, he’s going to cover a few details,” Chelsea finished. She left with a promise to see them both just before the first segment.

  After Torrian declined John’s offer of coffee, the production assistant said, “Okay, then.” He opened his mouth again, then closed it. A pained expression creased his forehead. “I forgot my notes,” he grimaced. “I’ll be back in just a sec.”

  Torrian walked over to the sofa and took a seat. “So, how has your morning been so far? Other than having some annoying pest wake you at four in the morning?”

  “It’s been okay, other than that pest.” She grinned. She gestured to the cream-colored cashmere sweater that molded to his sculpted chest. “You’re not cooking in that are you?”

  He looked down at himself. “I was planning to.”

  “That’s just showing off,” Paige scoffed.

  A huge grin spread across his face, displaying his perfect white teeth, and causing a spike in her heart rate.

  “I’ll wear an apron if it’ll make you feel better.”

  “Thanks,” she snorted. She ran a shaking hand along the hair at her nape, the anxiousness fueling her adrenaline to the point that she was ready to jump out of her seat. She had to get a hold of herself.

  “Are you still nervous?” Torrian asked.

  She glanced over at him and admitted, “Yes. I can’t help it. I’m afraid I’ll freeze as soon as those cameras start to roll.” Paige turned to him. “Please don’t let me make a fool of myself,” she pleaded. “If I look like a deer caught in headlights, just start talking.”

  “I don’t get it. Where’s all that confidence that comes through on your blog?”

  “That’s different.”

  “You can hide behind your computer.” His voice was filled with understanding.

  “Yes,” she admitted. “The blog and my column are the perfect medium to be heard and not seen. I’ve always had a fear of speaking in public.” Because she always messed up.