Culinary Delight

by Lovell, Christin

  “I so did not plan for the night to go like this.” Rachel sounded giddy, amped up as if she was about to watch an aggressive sporting event. She slid over. “Take a seat, Carlos. Molly’s about to knock your socks off.”

  “Carlita, lock up, will you?” He called towards the hostess. He sat down beside Rachel and grabbed a fork. He winced at the rice hit his tongue. “Dios miyo, primo! Esta-” His features twisted in disgust. “She was right.”

  “Hey, I never said I was chef. You were in a bind. I covered your ass. You should be thanking me.”

  Carlos dropped the fork. “My chef ran off overnight with his girlfriend. He moved up north without notice,” he admitted.”

  “Well, relax. I’ll remake these dishes the way they ought to be made.” I cut my eyes at Rico.

  Rico had the audacity to smirk. “I’ll make sure the judges go easy on you.”

  “They won’t need to. I know you’re looking at my blonde hair, blue eyes and pale skin thinking that I know nothing about anything outside the continental United States, but take a seat, bud, because I’m about to kick your culinary ass.” I slid out of the booth, glaring darts at him the entire way.

  “This is gonna be good, Carlos. I’ve only seen Molly’s eyes spitting fire like that one other time and she kicked her cheating ex-husband’s ass. Don’t worry though, she’s not usually violent.” Rachel was enjoying every minute of this.

  I had to admit, some sick part of me was too. Adrenaline coursed through me. I was hyperaware of him, the way he watched me.

  “You’re cute when you’re all hot and bothered.” He winked, slinking past me to sit where I was. “Don’t burn down the kitchen.”

  I huffed, stomping childishly towards the back. The man was infuriating yet my pussy throbbed as if it wanted to take him on. My breasts had perked, all of me responding to his challenge. Dammit.

  Everything was stainless steel from the cabinets to the counters and appliances. It took me some time to locate everything I needed. Half an hour later I was beginning to plate the meal, certain my face was red from standing in front of the heat. I chose a bad night to wear skinny jeans and a fitted, if a bit low cut, black top. At least I was wearing ballet flats.

  Midway through I’d thrown my hair up into a messy bun. It was worth it though. I was happy with the end results.

  I got the feeling the only reason why Carlos agreed to let me cook was because he felt like he was going to lose his restaurant anyways. He literally had nothing else he could lose at the moment, which made me all the more determined to make him something amazing.

  I put a simple cilantro garnish on the dishes. Making sure everything was off and put away, I grabbed the plates and headed back to the judges.

  “Took you long enough, gringa.” Rico took me in as I approached. If I wasn’t already red from the stove, I know my cheeks would have shown my reaction to the way he looked me up and down.

  “Because I didn’t use any of your prepped crap,” I shot back.

  I set the plates on the table beside his. “Take a look at the color on my plate.” I beamed.

  “This looks good, Molly,” Carlos said, inspecting the dishes with the others.

  “Yeah. Sorry, Rico, but Molly’s looks way more appetizing.”

  He sneered. I couldn’t tell how much was real and how much of his attitude was show.

  I couldn’t bite back my smile. I couldn’t wait for the judges to pick me.

  I glanced at the hostess station.

  “I sent her home,” Carlos stated.

  I nodded before focusing on Rico. I cut my eyes at him. “Scoot your butt over.”

  Thankfully he didn’t make a fuss and made room for me.

  “Holy shit, Mol. I forgot how well you cook this stuff.” She spoke around a mouthful of rice.

  Carlos took a small bite. His brows rose. “She nailed it, primo.” He quickly scooped up another bite.

  I knew I looked as smug as Rico did in the beginning. “I’m sorry, what was it you said? That this gringa didn’t know anything about cooking your people’s food? Hm.” I turned my nose up, smiting him with my elbow.

  He dramatically pulled the fork from the last rolled silverware set on the table. He dug his fork in, watching me the entire time.

  Electricity sizzled between us. I was just waiting for the rubber band to snap.

  His attention fell to the food then back to me. “Not bad for a gringa.” He didn’t sound impressed, but then again, I didn’t picture him being the type to compliment. He didn’t give them; he took them.

  Molly and Carlos each took an empanada. Carlos paused with the food in his mouth. The moment he swallowed, he asked, “What do you do for a living, Molly?”

  “I’m a paralegal.”

  “Did you go to culinary school or take any classes? This is really good.” Rachel was right. Carlos was nice. He looked good, but he wasn’t full of himself. He was very humble. I found myself rooting for him. I really wanted him to succeed.

  “No. Cooking has always been a hobby.”

  “If the paralegal thing doesn’t work out, you have a strong back up.”

  I smiled, my heart warming under his kindness. “Thank you.”

  “It may not work out as early as Friday. Molly’s firm is making more job cuts.”

  I glared across the table at her. “Rachel.”

  She shrugged. “You might need a job and Rico might need a trainer.”

  Carlos cut into the pork chop, watching as the juices oozed from it. I waited for the flavors to hit his tongue. “Ay que rico; ‘ta perfecto, Molly. I’ll fire Rico right now if you’ll take his place.”

  “Hey! I’ll admit it’s good, but really cuz? You’d do your own blood like that?”

  I chuckled. I patted his shoulder. “Did it hurt?”

  “Nena, someone needs to take you over their knee with that mouth.”

  “Molly doesn’t do that kinda kink,” Rachel stated.

  I was going to murder my best friend and a cocky, sexy stranger in one night.

  Rico turned in the booth, leaning back against the wall, an empanada in hand. “Oh yeah? What kind of kink does Molly do?” His eyes glittered with mischief.

  The intensity of his focus on me combined with the teasing upturn of his lips sent heat racing through me, pooling low in my stomach. I could all-too-easily picture him with that same intensity in the bedroom.

  “She likes alphas that don’t take it to a kinky extreme.”

  Yup. Definitely killing her tonight.

  I crossed my arms over my chest, partly for comfort and partly to hide the fact that my nipples had begun to perk. The longer he stared at me like that, the harder it was to sit still.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t jump your bones, gringa.”

  When did he move so close? His breath tickled my ear, sending tingles down my neck. My pussy pulsed.

  I hated him. I wanted to slap the shit out of him. Admittedly, - only to myself of course - I also wanted to strip and beg him to fuck me hard and fast with the same intensity his gaze promised.

  I shuddered. I’d never responded to a man like this. Why did it have to be him?

  “You okay, Mol?”

  “I think she’s a little overheated.” Even his laugh was smug.

  Damn him.

  Damn my body for reacting to him.

  “Stop antagonizing her, Rico. She’s the one who’s going to save your job, hopefully.” He swallowed the last bit of his pork chop. “Would you be willing to show Rico how to cook this stuff and any other Puerto Rican dishes you know? I can’t afford much, but I’d work around your schedule and get you anything you needed.”

  Rachel squealed. “She’ll do it!”

  “Rach!”

  “You were just saying you felt bad. Well, you can actually do something about it.” She looked at me expectantly, expecting me to respond the way someone with a heart would.

  I nibbled my lip. Rico had gone strangely silent. Not even a cocky glare from
him. “Don’t you have family, aunts, mothers, anyone who could teach you?”

  “Aside from Carlita, they’re all back on the island,” Rico stated. Was it me or did he actually soften?

  “Our abuela passed on her recipes, but my sister can’t cook and Rico claims to be a visual learner. I’d secured someone else to help, but she flaked. I can’t help. I can’t even boil water.” His brows creased.

  “And you chose to open a restaurant why?” I teased.

  “Pride, family heritage, a lot of reasons that don’t matter if I lose it all.”

  I understood all too well how he felt. I lost nearly everything in the divorce and he was the one who had broken our vows and cheated.

  I checked my phone. It was only half past seven. “If he promises not to be a smart ass, I’ll teach him. It’s early still so I could teach him these dishes tonight if you want.”

  “Yes. Absolutely.” Carlos perked up, relaxing for the first time all evening.

  “Sorry, Mol, but I’ve got to get home. I could call Rog and see if he could come get you when you’re done though.”

  “I’ve got her. She is helping my cuz.” A little of his arrogance returned, as did my desire to taste him.

  This was going to be a long night.

  “Thanks, Rach. Are we still on for Saturday?”

  “Oh yeah. I’m kicking the boys out by noon. I’ll buy the wine after work Friday. Bring some extra dough if you can. The boys killed my pizza last time before I could finish it.”

  “I think I can handle that.” Doubling dough recipes were easy, it was cooking in a hot kitchen with a sizzling Puerto Rican that I was a tad worried about.

  “Let’s go, gringa.”

  I took a deep, sharp breath, blowing out my frustration. “I’m the one helping you. Don’t be rude. Also, drop the gringa. I know it’s an insult.”

  His lips mashed together. Determination sparked in his depths. Apparently I’d just waved a red flag in front of a bull.

  He bulldozed me out of the booth. Instead of falling to the floor, his arms went around me, catching me. He set me down in front of him, his arms staying at my waist.

  My heart sped up, excitement furling in my womb. His hard against my soft felt more exquisite than I imagined.

  “I said let’s go.” He darn near growled at me.

  My jaw slackened in shock. I looked to Rachel and Carlos. They immediately faced each other.

  “So, Carlos, you know, I’m in marketing. I could help you re-brand the restaurant. Maybe you could even do a grand re-opening event to drum up business again once Rico learns everything.”

  “I would like that.”

  “Traitors,” I grumbled.

  “Move it, Blondie.” He molded his hands to my ass and shoved me forward.

  My eyes widened. “Hey! I’ll move when I damn well feel like it.”

  “That I did just to cop a feel.” He winked, strolling past me with all the self-importance of a King. He lacked the royal finances of one though.

  I glared as I sped up to him. I was going to need a hard drink and a massage when I was done with him. Part of what drove me crazy was that I couldn’t read him. I didn’t know if he was actually interested in me or just ruffling my feathers for his own entertainment.

  Two hours later I was ready to snap his neck. He’d challenged me on nearly every step. Worse, I didn’t even have Carlos or Rachel to talk me off the ledge. It probably wasn’t one of my most brilliant whims, being alone with a strange, infuriating male; but, as much as he drove me nuts, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me. He’d proven protective, backing me up from splattering oil, carrying all the heavy stuff, ensuring I didn’t have to reach for anything. I caught glimpses of a caring person beyond his hard outer shell, but his walls were structurally sound.

  The circumstances were so bizarre. It was such an odd situation, a one-in-never story. If Carlos was able to save his restaurant, then I guess it would be worth it. Rachel had given him a lot of ideas. He was like a kid on Christmas, he was too excited to wait, full of newfound enthusiasm. As soon as I assured him I would be okay with Rico alone, he rushed out. He mumbled something about wanting to use a desktop computer to look stuff up rather than his laptop.

  “Sit,” Rico ordered. His hands went to my waist. He helped hoist me up onto the counter. His eyes blazed, full of firepower as always. His lips were slightly curled at the edges. His hands lingered on me. Slowly they drifted down to grip my hips before he broke away.

  He served up a plate. He grabbed a fork and turned to me. “You didn’t eat earlier. Here.” He pushed the plate in my direction.

  “It looks better than the last two batches.”

  He rolled his eyes, leaning against the counter beside me. “Eat, Blondie.”

  I took a bite of his rice. I smiled approvingly. “Finally. Good job, Rican.”

  His gaze tapered. “Rico.”

  “You call me a descriptor so I can call you one too; or are you for inequality in the twenty-first century?” I stared pointedly at him.

  “I’m for taking you over my knee.” His eyes darkened, like the beginnings of a storm were brewing in his depths.

  “I’m for you cleaning so I can get home.” So I could get home and get off. I was wound so tight it hurt. My panties were soaked. He seemed unaffected, which was damaging my confidence a little more with every minute that ticked by.

  He considered me for a long minute. “Eat.” He shoved away and busied himself putting things away and cleaning up.

  I watched him. Admittedly, he was thorough. He did a good job of returning the kitchen to order. He was solemn, focused as he went through the motions. I learned there was nothing sexier than a domestic hottie. My resolve lowered a bit. Somehow, I knew he would do this at home for the woman he was with too. Hm. Looked like the cocky shell hid a man most women would love, if they had the patience to get beyond his defenses. There really were two sides to every coin.

  He took the empty plate from me. I studied his biceps, flexing as he scrubbed the dishes by hand.

  “Do you miss Puerto Rico?”

  He glanced back at me. “Sometimes. It’s hot as hell there with no A/C, but it’s got a pulse you won’t find anywhere else.”

  I heard the affection in his tone. “How long have you lived here?”

  “On and off for about seven years.”

  “Your English is good,” I offered. He had just enough of an accent to get the accent junkies going, but not enough to greatly alter the way he annunciated his English words.

  He chuckled softly. “A lot of people on the island speak English.”

  He dried the dishes and put them away. “Let’s go, Blondie.” He caught me as I leapt down from the counter. To my surprise, he pressed my back against it; he crowded me.

  I peered up at him, straight into those dark depths. I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to break away.

  His brows were heavily creased. It looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. With a sigh, he took a step back. “Grab your stuff.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, papá.”

  I squealed when he jerked me against him. My eyes widened, my pussy slicked at the feel of his erection against my lower stomach.

  His eyes pierced me, silently commanding me, overpowering me, without a single word from him.

  I swallowed my plea, the cry my body wanted me to give. Every bit of his potency fed my desire for him, for more than merely staring into his midnight eyes.

  “Next time you call me papá you’ll be over me knee. Got me?”

  I found myself nodding with quick, jerky motions.

  Satisfaction curled his lips. “Good.” He released me with a smack to my ass.

  I cut my eyes at him. “That’s my asset, not yours.”

  He just stared at me, unapologetic. “For now.”

  I snickered. “Whatever.” I headed for the table in the front of the house. I grabbed my purse and phone, taking the time to shoot a quick text to Rachel, l
etting her know that I was leaving now.

  She replied immediately with ‘Anything not on the menu happen tonight?’

  I shook my head in dismay. She wanted me to be happy, but she was a bit eager. ‘No.’

  ‘Damn. I was so sure he was into you.’

  My knee jerk reaction was to confirm he wasn’t, but men didn’t get hard-ons for no reason. Although, maybe he was thinking about someone else.

  ‘I’ll let you know later.’

  ‘Ok. Ttyl.’

  I looked up to find Rico waiting for me by the kitchen.

  “Thought you were in a rush,” he teased.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Women can be unpredictable.” I dropped my phone in my purse and closed the distance between us.

  He snatched me, hauling me against him. “So can men.”

  He captured my lips. He was a myriad of contradictions. He was aggressive and gentle, hard yet soft. His tongue swept past my lips, tasting and teasing. His hands snaked down my body, feeling every single curve.

  After the initial shock, I melted into him, surrendered to his command of my mouth. I let him blindly lead me into the kitchen. He stole my purse and tossed it away.

  My body sung for him. Everywhere his hands roamed tensed then tingled. I found myself leaning into him, clutching his shirt as though it were a lifeline.

  He broke away panting. “Tell me no right now if you don’t want this because I won’t stop in a minute.” He clenched his jaw. His nostrils flared with each exhale.

  You need a steady bedmate. Rachel’s words echoed in my mind. It would be nice to let go, but I would have to face him again. If things didn’t work out, I could never comfortably be in this restaurant.

  Crap. I was right back in the same cycle. I wanted strings attached, even without knowing him.

  “What happened to your fire, Blondie?”

  “I don’t do one-nighters.” I couldn’t change who I was and what I wanted at the core, no matter how great it sounded.

  “Who said I wanted one night?”

  “You didn’t say you wanted more.”

  “You didn’t ask.”

  “You don’t know me,” I countered.

  “I know enough.”