by Katie Allen
James gave a nod, but Barb was obviously not pacified. “Are you interested in her, Daniel?”
Although it was tempting to stay and watch the fireworks, a spark of self-preservation made Topher hurry out of the room, nudging Julia along in front of her.
“Better take cover, Jules,” she muttered, making Julia have to stifle a laugh with a hand over her mouth.
Once they’d hustled down the hallway and ducked through a door at the end, Julia grabbed Topher’s arm, pulling her to a stop.
“Don’t let those assholes drive you away,” she said fiercely, giving her a little shake. “If Danny ends up marrying that awful Barb, I’m never going to enjoy another family gathering again.” She dropped Topher’s arm and clasped both hands to the younger woman’s cheeks. “Promise me you’ll fight for him.”
How could she promise this woman anything of the sort when she planned to drop Danny like a hot tamale the instant they were off the property? There was acting and then there was flat-out lying, and Topher was finding out she couldn’t cross that line. With her cheeks smooshed together in Julia’s tight hold, Topher wasn’t able to drop her chin, so she just let her gaze lower to the pearls wrapped around Julia’s neck.
Those pearls rose and fell with Julia’s deep sigh. “You’re already thinking of letting Barb have him, aren’t you?”
“It’s just...” Her voice came out sounding funny from her cheeks being squeezed together. “I know you’re his mom, so you kind of have to like him, but Dan-Dan didn’t even break up with the carrot before dating me. It’s obvs he’s still into her, and I’m, like, super annoyed with him right now. Besides, Jamie-Bear is so yummy.”
They both blinked. Topher hadn’t planned to admit that. For a moment, the two women regarded each other in silence before Julia gave a nod and released Topher’s face.
“I’ll take that compromise,” Julia said. “Neither James nor Daniel could find a good woman to save their lives, so just stick with one of them, and I’ll be satisfied. Deal?”
“Um...deal?” Topher answered weakly, but Julia was already turning away toward a dark-haired woman across the room. At first, Topher was a little embarrassed that another person had witnessed their decidedly odd conversation, but then she realized the other woman was focused fully on the multiple pans lining the stove.
“How are you holding up, Leigh?” Julia asked.
“I think ‘holding up’ is pushing it.” The cook huffed, never taking her eyes off the contents of the pan in front of her. “The whole problem with living on-site is that I never get snowed out. Snowed in without any help with unexpected guests needing dinner? Sure, no problem. I could be tucked up in a cozy cabin somewhere, snowflakes falling outside as I watch the Cooking Channel, not live some perverted hell-version of it.”
During Leigh’s rant, Julia subtly tilted her head toward seven plates of salad lined up on the kitchen island. Topher quietly moved toward the waiting plates and placed five on a tray sitting at the end of the island.
“I’d almost rather have a back-stabbing, bitchy teammate on one of those shows instead of trying to create five courses—five!—on my own. First it was three people—family only. Then, I’m told there’s one extra. Okay, no problem. What’s one more, right? And then, and then!, suddenly there’s three more, less than an hour before dinner. I have two hands, Julia—two! Bring on the back-stabbing, bitchy teammates from hell, as long as they know how to plate!”
Julia made sympathetic noises as she picked up the last two salads and shot Topher a look that clearly said, “Out! Now!” Topher lifted the tray, mentally thanking her pre-barista days of waitressing for giving her the necessary multi-plate-carrying skills.
“Well, I really appreciate this, Leigh,” Julia said as she and Topher eased toward the door. “You are a marvel! A genius! It smells wonderful. I’m so happy you are snowed in with us, or the Golfinis would have had to eat canned soup and burnt toast, which is pretty much the extent of my cooking abilities. So everyone is more grateful to you than you can imagine.”
Leigh grunted and opened her mouth as if to continue her rant, but the gentle “ding” of a timer brought her attention back to the stove. Taking advantage of the cook’s inattention, Topher eased the door open and Julia hurried through.
“You’re the best, Leigh! We love you! Adore you!” Julia called before the door swung shut behind them. As they hurried down the hall toward the dining room, her voice lowered to a mutter. “Thank God for the blizzard. It makes it harder for Leigh to quit and storm out.”
“I’m glad she’s here,” Topher said seriously. “I don’t like toast. All those carbs and gluten. I’m not sure what gluten is exactly, but I read an article on the internet that said gluten can make you...bloated.” She whispered the last word, widening her eyes with horror.
Julia’s lips quivered as she quickly averted her eyes. “Oh...my. That would be...unpleasant.” The shake of repressed laughter in her voice made Topher feel bad for torturing the poor woman.
“Totally.” As they entered the dining room, Topher’s gaze immediately found James. When she saw that he was watching her, she couldn’t hold back a grin. Despite the unpleasantness of the Golfini family’s presence, Topher was happy about the change in plan their arrival had created. This way, she could stare and touch and flirt as much as she wanted with hot Uncle Jamie, all in the name of acting.
“Topher, dear?” Julia’s gentle reminder made her snap back to the reality of her tray-full of salads.
“Oh! Sorry, Jules! I was distracted. Jamie-Bear was giving me sexy eyes—well, one sexy eye and one sexy eyepatch—so all I could think about was what was going to happen after dinner.” She would’ve kept babbling, but Tiny Mike’s expression had gone all lustful and slimy, so she snapped her mouth closed and served the salads.
Everyone was silent as she placed the tray on a sideboard and took her seat next to James. As she glanced around the table, keeping her eyes wide and blank, she saw that everyone’s gaze was fixed on her. Donna and Barb’s resting bitch faces reflected complete scorn, Mike still appeared to be considering asking her for a lap dance, Julia was fighting laughter, Dan looked both sulky and horrified, and James had dialed his sexy eye up to an eleven.
Pretending obliviousness, she attempted to scoot her chair closer to James’s, but the heavy wood didn’t budge until James reached over and grabbed it, pulling until it butted up against his own seat. With a grateful smile, she half stood and leaned over so she could plant a kiss on his cheek before taking her seat again.
It wasn’t until after Topher spread her napkin across her lap and picked up her salad fork that Donna cleared her throat, breaking the quiet.
“How are your classes going, Daniel?”
James’s left hand landed on her thigh right above her knee, sending a jolt of heat directly between her legs. The electric shock of pleasure made her jump and squeak, bringing everyone’s attention back to her. Mike, who was sitting next to her and could see her lap—and the placement of James’s hand—leered. For once, Topher couldn’t speak, so she just gave an apologetic smile and stuffed a bite of salad in her mouth. The flavors merged into something amazing, and she barely suppressed a groan of pleasure. By the way she’d been acting, the rest of the table would think that James was fingering her under the table. The thought brought another surge of pleasure through her, and she bit back a second moan, this one not food-related.
“Good,” Danny said, and it took Topher a second to realize he was answering Donna’s question. “Although I’m thinking about changing majors.”
“Again?” James tightened his fingers on her thigh, the pressure just perfectly short of pain, and Topher had to fight not to make a happy sound. “What will Major Number Five be?”
Danny’s face took on a decidedly sulky cast. “I haven’t changed that many times.”
“Pre-med, astronomy, art, philosophy and...” James counted off on his fingers, making Topher glad that this wasn’t the sixth major change. If he’d needed another digit, it would’ve required taking his hand off of her leg, and that was unacceptable.
“Theater.” Danny completed the list reluctantly, poking at his salad with a fork. Frowning, Topher took another bite from her own plate. It was a crime to abuse such heavenly tasting food.
“Theater.” James’s voice was flat. When his fingers tightened again, Topher couldn’t hold back a squirm. It pinched, but that just added to the delightful heat that burned up her thigh. She hadn’t realized how nice a little bit of pain could be, and that was just from a squeeze of her leg. Misinterpreting her movement as a protest, he lightened his grip and gave her bare skin an apologetic stroke with his thumb. Topher gave mental thanks for the shortness of her skirt that left a good portion of her legs bare.
To distract herself, she went into full Tophie mode and squealed. “Theater? That was my major! Are you going to be an actress, too? Oh! This will be so much fun! You can work with me at Loopy Bean, and we’ll go to auditions together!” The look Barb shot her was so filled with venom that Topher was shocked her face didn’t melt. It took an effort, but Topher managed not to flinch. Instead, she clung to her vapid smile.
“Why are you working as a barista?” James asked. “Surely you don’t need the money.”
When Barb’s expression went from furious to suspicious, Topher reached over and surreptitiously pinched his thigh—hard. His fingers clamped on her leg, and she barely kept her eyes from rolling back in her head as another jolt of pleasure flashed through her. He’d deserved the pinch, though, for asking her a question he should’ve known if they’d been dating for three weeks.
“I told you, Jamie-Bear,” she said, bugging her eyes at him as she forced a smile. “Papa Ben wanted me to major in business so I could work for him, but that would’ve meant doing, like, math and stuff, and having to dress in fugly office clothes. I want to be a famous actress and wear really big sunglasses while I go to the mall and have popcorn people following me around.”
“Popcorn people?” Tiny Mike looked confused.
“You know, Mr. G, popcorn-ratzi? With the cameras?”
“Paparazzi?” James’s voice had that choked sound to it again.
“Yes! Popcorn-ratzi. Anyway, Papa Ben said that if I wanted to waste my time getting a theater degree, then I was going to have to pay for it myself. It’s okay, though. It’ll just be for a little while, until I get my breakout role, and then I’ll have lots and lots of money, and other people will be making coffee for me.” She gave James a triumphant grin, but he was still frowning.
“What about Mason Brown? Why doesn’t he support you?”
“Why on earth would Mason Brown support her?” Donna asked. From the knowing look on Mike’s face, he thought he knew the answer—the totally wrong and completely gross answer.
“Daddy told me that, if I wanted Papa Ben to adopt me, then I was not longer his responsibility.” The memory killed her ability to hold on to her smile, and she hated that he could still affect her like that. “I’d still visit and go to his weddings and stuff, but he never gave me any money after that.”
“How old were you?” There was a grumbly, angry note to James’s voice, and Topher looked at him in honest surprise.
“Eight.”
“He cut you off when you were eight?” A muscle rippled in his cheek. “Asshole.”
“How long did you say the two of you have been dating?” Barb asked, showing her bared teeth in a parody of a smile.
“Three weeks.” Topher petted his biceps and pretended to miss the underlying question.
“Hmm...” Barb had an arch look that made Topher want to smack her. “That long? You don’t seem to know each other that well.”
Danny gave Topher a hunted look that made her want to smack him. The man suddenly wanted to be an actor, but he was going to give away the whole thing. Maybe he and Barb were actually a perfect match—they could both be extremely irritating.
Allowing her lower lip to slide out, Topher gave the man right next to her an accusatory look. “It’s because Jamie-Bear doesn’t listen.”
He tipped his face toward hers with a stern expression that made her panties wet. Topher blinked in surprise. It had been a day of discovery. Who knew she had so many unexpected lust-triggers? “Tophie. Stop.”
Although she dropped her eyes to his chin, her pout remained. “Well, you don’t. Remember how I was telling you about Sawyer’s party, and you were totally thinking about your stupid conference call?”
His voice dropped even lower, so quiet that she didn’t think anyone else at the table could hear. Despite that, it lost none of its firmness. “Remember what happens when you whine?”
Her breath was coming too fast, and his tone of voice apparently turned off her brain, because her next word tumbled out of her mouth without any conscious thought. “Spanking?” Whoa! Where did that come from? Shocked, she brought her gaze to his.
His inhale was audible, and the look in his eye made her melt from the waist down. He nodded, just a slight incline of his head, and the image of his huge hand connecting with her bare, vulnerable bottom made every last brain cell scatter.
Leaning close, he touched his mouth to her lower lip, pulling back before she could even comprehend that he’d just kissed her. “Behave, baby girl.”
All she could do was stare at him dumbly. When she finally gathered her wits enough to turn to the rest of the table, she flushed. Whether they heard everything or not, all eyes were focused on them.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, staring at her empty plate. What could she tell them—that she was discovering fetishes she didn’t even know she had? That she was so turned on that her brain no longer functioned, and all she could do was sit, a soaking pile of want, and think about James doing all sorts of naughty things to her.
Julia, bless her, broke the awkward silence. “Topher, would you mind helping me bring in the next course?”
“Of course!” Relieved, Topher popped out of her chair, and James’s hand slid off her leg. She avoided his gaze as she gathered salad plates, although she could feel the heat of his stare burning against her skin. Even with that distraction, she noticed that Donna and Barb had barely touched their salads. Idiots, she thought, holding back a snort. It seemed crazy to pass up food that made her mouth cry with happiness just to keep their anorexic-chic look going.
She piled the plates on the tray, meeting Julia’s eyes as the other woman added the rest of the salads to the collection.
“Thank you,” Topher mouthed, and Julia nodded, looking amused.
They headed down the hallway and into the kitchen to find Leigh muttering a steady stream of swearwords at the sauce she was stirring. At their entrance, she spun around and glared at them, the dripping spoon held like a weapon.
“OMG, Leigh,” Topher said. “That salad was awesome. No, it was, like, if awesome married amazing and they had a salad baby. It made my mouth do a happy dance.”
Although Leigh didn’t smile, the cursing stopped, and her face relaxed minutely. “Bread.” She pointed at a couple of baskets. “Whipped butter. Bring that in and then come back. I’ll have the soup ready.”
“Can you bring the bread in, Topher?” Julia asked, hustling toward a door on the far side of the kitchen. “I’m going to grab another couple of bottles of wine. For how thin those two are, the Golfini women can really suck down their alcohol.”
Even with the huge distraction that was James, Topher had noticed that. “Maybe we should remind them how many calories wine has,” she said, putting the bread baskets and tiny bowls of butter on the tray. Julia gave a crack of laughter before disappearing through the door.
Topher frowned. “That better be a wine cellar an
d not the entrance to a panic room where Jules is going to lock herself inside for the rest of the Golfinis’ visit.”
At that, Leigh snorted. “If it is, could you blame her?”
“Well, yeah. She could’ve at least let me stay in there with her.”
After bringing the bread out to the table while avoiding eye contact with James again, Topher returned to the kitchen, passing Julia. Judging by her presence and the wine bottles she carried, Julia had indeed gone into a wine cellar and not a panic room. Topher made a goofy face, and Julia laughed.
Topher was watching Leigh from a safe distance when a tall man walked into the kitchen and eyed her curiously. Before either of them could say anything, Julia returned.
“Charlie,” she said with a warm smile. “Good to see you again. It sounds like you had quite the drive.”
“Hey, Julia. Leigh.” His gaze landed on Topher. “Hello...?”
“Topher.” She hurried to fill in the blank before Julia could introduce her as Coco.
“Hello, Topher. I’m Charlie, the Golfinis’ driver.”
With a nod, she gave him a return smile. “From Alaska.” With his groomed Ken-doll looks, he didn’t fit her preconception of an Alaska-ite. Topher had been expecting more of a lumberjack with a flannel shirt and an ice pick—a full beard at the very least.
“That’s right.” He sounded surprised. “You must be new here. I would’ve remembered that face.” Even though he said “face,” his eyes were fixed on her chest. She rolled her eyes at Julia before she caught herself.
Clearing her throat, Julia brought Charlie’s attention back to her. “Topher’s a guest, actually. If you’re hungry, help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge, as long as you stay out of Leigh’s way.”
“I have cleavers, and I’m not afraid to use them,” the chef muttered. Although Charlie laughed, Topher was pretty sure Leigh hadn’t been joking.
“Thanks, Julia. I actually wanted to check with you about where the luggage should go. Barb said she usually stays in the blue guest room, but it looks like someone’s already staying there?”
