Just Add Spice (The Spice Series Book 1)

by Calista Fox

Bypassing the fork entirely, he inched closer to her and brushed his lips over hers. She let out a startled squeak a second before his mouth covered hers. He kissed her slowly, leisurely, as she warmed up to him. A small moan lodged in her throat. His heart swelled and his erection surged. Jenna’s soft lips parted, and his tongue swept inside, tangling with hers.

  He rose off the stool and uncrossed her legs, as he’d imagined doing moments before. His large frame wedged between her thighs as his hands moved to her hips, gripping them as he kissed her deeply. His bare chest pressed to hers, the skin-on-skin-and-lace contact electrifying. He could take her right here, right now, and be one hell of a happy man.

  But just as he wondered how on earth they’d ever walked away from such searing chemistry, Jenna’s cell phone rang.

  The sound was a cold, hard slap in the face.

  He tore his mouth from hers and swore under his breath. “Jesus, Jen. It’s not even four o’clock. Who the hell would be calling at this hour?”

  “It’s almost seven in New York,” she said in a breathless voice, a hint of regret in her tone, an apology in her eyes. None of which placated him, because he already knew what she was going to say. “It’s Tad calling. He hates that we’re on vacation and is probably hoping for more work.”

  Bearing the reminder of how her career was always so much more important than their relationship.

  And there it was.

  Strike three.

  “I should take this,” she said as her gaze slid to the phone next to one of the dishes.

  Rafe’s jaw set. There were more red flags waving in front of his face than he could see past. And yet, fool that he was, he threw down his own gauntlet.

  “Why don’t you let it go to voicemail so we can finish what we started?”

  Chapter Two

  Jenna’s heart stammered and her pulse soared. There was nothing she wanted more than to finish what they’d started. Nothing. But they’d been down this road before. And there was always a big, fat T smack dab in the middle of it—leaving one to travel left or right, unable to continue straight ahead.

  No matter how desperately she wished otherwise, the course they took continually split, with Rafe going one way because of his restaurant, his family, his roots. And Jenna trail-blazing every unbeaten path she could find because of her innate inability to stay in one place for long. Not to mention her insatiable need to leave a legacy behind. Evidence she’d existed on this planet.

  So it was with much regret that she told him, “We got carried away. We always were good at challenging each other. Pushing the limit. But…” She reached for her phone. A long breath blew through her parted lips before she said, “I can’t ignore business.”

  She connected the call and Tad Montgomery immediately launched into a rapid-fire diatribe about a message he’d received from a potential new client who wanted them in Atlanta that very week.

  Her project manager eventually summed up the problem with, “Sushi joint on the verge of bankruptcy.”

  “In Georgia? I’m not surprised. You can’t deep-fry a California Roll. Can you?”

  “Please tell me we’re able to take this on,” he pleaded in his elegant, refined voice. “They’re desperate for our help, Jen.”

  She laughed. “Yeah, like I haven’t heard that before.” Jenna never lacked for clients. However, her gaze slid to Rafe. She’d committed to him. This time, she wouldn’t let him down. “No go, though. I’ve got something lined up currently.”

  “Wh-at?” The unexpected jump in octave nearly pierced her eardrum. Not that she should be surprised, given Tad’s easily excitable nature.

  Her dearest friend and colleague was an extremely attractive man of mixed African-American and Louisiana French Creole descent who’d come out of the closet years ago. At least with her. He’d yet to tell his affluent family he preferred gorgeous blonde men to gorgeous blonde women, though Jenna wondered if it was really much of a mystery anymore.

  “You didn’t tell me we had a job!” he sing-songed.

  “We don’t. I do. Old friend.” Warmth ribboned through her as Rafe’s gaze locked with hers. “I’m in San Francisco for a couple of weeks. Then I’ll fly out to New York for the Vandenberg project that’s next on our list. Should be a doozy, so you’ll have a field day with it.”

  “Yeah. Sure.” He sounded disheartened.

  “Hey,” Jenna said in hopes of lifting his spirits. “You’ve hardly had a day off in months. Enjoy the next two weeks. We’re slammed the rest of the year, and I don’t want to hear you complaining about the workload.”

  “Do I ever complain about the workload?”

  She frowned. Tad was as much of a workaholic as she was. Some people just didn’t possess the ability to focus on anything other than business. Not necessarily a good thing, she understood. Yet…it was what it was. She’d spent the better part of her life devoted to a job that had turned into a stellar career. It was what defined her professionally.

  On the other hand, what defined her as a woman currently stood about a foot away, now glowering at her. Though even Rafe’s disapproving look had such a smoldering quality to it, her inner thighs burned and her nipples tightened. He was easily the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on, with chiseled features that started at his devilishly handsome face and cascaded down his thick, corded throat to his well-defined pectoral ledge and his ripped abdomen.

  A soft moan slipped from her lips. He truly was a masterpiece and elicited the darkest of desires within her. He was the only man she’d ever craved; the only one she’d ever wanted to marry. Too bad that’d been such a short-lived affair. Her fault for the most part. And something she wasn’t capable of rectifying.

  Tearing her gaze from Rafe, she said into the phone, “Take a break, Tad. Go on a cruise. Spend a week at The Plaza with daily manis and pedis and endless room service. Whatever. You’ll be refreshed and ready for our next assignment. Trust me, it’ll be upon us sooner than you think. And Neil Vandenberg is one argumentative SOB, from what I hear. His son is the manager of the restaurant, and called for our help. But Senior isn’t going to like us stepping into his space and shooting holes in his business plan. There’ll be a lot of tension, I guarantee it.”

  “Better to have obstacles to overcome than thumbs to twiddle.”

  She laughed.

  “Sure you don’t need my help in San Fran?” he ventured once more. “I adore that city.”

  “And have you drooling over my ex-husband the entire time?” She shot another glance at Rafe and all but sighed at his hotter-than-hell body and brooding good looks. He smirked at her, an expression that never failed to make her clit tingle and her stomach flip. “Not in a million, my friend.”

  “You didn’t say anything about the ex!” Tad exclaimed.

  “Yes, well. Rafe’s damn hunky so I’m sparing your hormones.” Admittedly, her ex-husband radiated a raw intensity that drew her in. His hair was the color of rich, melted dark chocolate, and though it was a tad long, it was recklessly stylish and sexily tousled. Not to mention, he had gorgeous ocean-blue eyes she could stare into for hours on end.

  Christ, the man turned her on like nothing she’d ever known before. It was near impossible to breathe properly around him.

  Jenna further confessed to Tad, “Even I have trouble resisting Rafe. So go do something fun and adventurous. That’ll keep you from slobbering on his shoes.”

  Tad laughed heartily. “You little tart. Why didn’t you say you wanted two weeks off to get laid?”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. Yes, she’d cataloged some searing fantasies starring the Italian stud she’d fallen for years ago. But rekindling a romance with Rafe would be a very dangerous undertaking…for both of them.

  “Let’s not make assumptions,” she told Tad. “I have a lot of work here, but I’ll stay in touch. Now, go get a massage or take a carriage ride through Central Park. Enjoy your day.”

  “Hmph.”

  She could practically feel him pouting
.

  “Goodbye, Tad.”

  “Goodbye, my harlot of a boss.”

  She smiled as she disconnected the call. Hopping off the table, she said to Rafe, “I’ll type up my wine pairing suggestions. We can create a nice-quality, mini-menu for each table that offers our recommendations. Bet you’ll move a lot of bottles without a single Chianti label on them.”

  Rafe crossed his arms over his chest and asked, “What else have you got up your sleeve?”

  Feeling somewhat flirty, what with all the sparks flying between them, Jenna said, “I’m not wearing sleeves.”

  He groaned seductively, sending a wicked thrill through her. So much for danger, danger! Seemed she truly was incapable of resisting temptation. The fire beckoned and she just kept stoking it.

  But she owed it to both of them to put some effort into maintaining a more professional disposition. Difficult to do, what with his beautiful blue eyes boring into her, making her pussy throb with excitement. And need.

  Jenna didn’t want to mislead him, however. She was only in town for two weeks, after all.

  She said, “I told you, I’ll cover the hostess stand for your cousin. And I’ve got a few other ideas to implement.” She placed a hand on his strong forearm and added, “Don’t worry. I’ve got it all under control.”

  With the exception of her fiery insides. Just touching Rafe nearly singed her to the core of her being. Jesus, the man was electrifying.

  And he clearly wasn’t inclined to help matters, what with his simmering gaze and sexy grin. “What happened to having trouble resisting me?”

  “You just latch onto every little faux pas I make, don’t you?” She stretched on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek. “I could never deny that you make my stomach flutter. But let’s keep things in perspective. I’m here on business. Nothing more.”

  She gave him a pointed look, though in the back of her mind, visions of getting naked with her delicious ex taunted her. Stepping around Rafe, Jenna shoved open the kitchen door to retrieve her dress. She slipped into it, but returned to where he still stood, brooding.

  “Mind zipping me up?” she asked as she presented her back to him.

  “As a matter of fact, I do.”

  Jenna glanced at him over her shoulder. “You’re the one who started the game. Don’t get pissy now that I’m ending it. We tend to go too far with each other. So maybe we ought to just focus on the restaurant.”

  He yanked up the zipper and said, “Yeah, we’ll see how that works out for us.”

  Then he sauntered toward the end of the table to snatch his shirt. He buttoned it slowly, and she couldn’t help but watch his nimble fingers work the small disks. Rafe had fantastic hands with long, blunt-tipped fingers. He knew how to use those hands too. Lord, did he ever!

  She stifled a moan. Without doubt, two weeks in the man’s commanding presence would test her restraint. But she’d committed to assisting him.

  And, she had to admit that being back in San Francisco was a nice treat. She looked forward to seeing Rafe’s large and gregarious family—not exactly a normal yearning for her because Jenna didn’t do large and gregarious families. She preferred quiet, alone time. Yet the moment she’d finished her Maui job, she’d not thought twice about booking a flight here.

  Dragging her gaze from Rafe—no easy feat—she crossed the room and stepped into her high heels. Her rollaboard sat next to them, along with her laptop bag. She grabbed both and turned to Rafe.

  He asked, “Need a lift somewhere?”

  “I have a suite at the Fairmont. I let them know I’d be checking in late. Or rather,” she added with a soft laugh, “really early.”

  “You don’t have to stay at a hotel, Jen.” His expression was one she was all too familiar with, because he’d always encouraged her to think of the loft as her personal residence. But Jenna had never fully subscribed to the home-away-from-hotel notion.

  “Thanks, but you know how I love my room service.”

  “I’m not opposed to serving breakfast in bed.”

  Her heart melted. But she stood her ground. “I’m already booked at the Fairmont. And I have a rental car.”

  His jaw clenched briefly. “Miss Independent.”

  “I’ve never needed to be rescued. That’s tough for you. I’m sorry.”

  “As long as you’re happy. That’s what matters.”

  “I am.” Though, as she said the words and stared him in the eyes, she felt a strange twisting inside her. What was that all about? Ignoring the sentiment and the peculiar sensation, she told him, “I’ll see you tomorrow at eleven sharp, for the lunch crowd.”

  “Yeah, thanks. I do appreciate it, Jen.”

  She smiled. “I’m glad to be in the position to offer my assistance.”

  “At least let me walk you out,” he said.

  “Of course.” Not that they had far to go. She’d snagged a primo spot on the street that was close by.

  He put her bag in the back of the car as she slipped into the driver’s seat.

  Rafe told her, “Be safe.”

  “Promise.”

  He closed her door and she drove to the hotel. Her first order of business was to unpack and place everything except the dress she’d wear for the day in the laundry bag provided by housekeeping. She left it for the suite butler to tend to, for express dry cleaning. Jenna kept a light wardrobe for traveling. Her production crew stored the rest of her clothes and shoes, since Jenna didn’t maintain a permanent address. She never had as a kid, so it had not occurred to her as an adult to find a house and fill it with stuff she didn’t need…and wouldn’t see or use, anyway, given she was always on the road.

  Her parents had kept minimal material assets as well. Just the necessities needed for their exploration of the country in their RV—and passports when they all ventured abroad. Jenna had learned not to collect any mementos of her life that couldn’t be tossed into her oversized tote bag or easily packed in her suitcase. She carried an old photo album with her, but thankfully with her iPhone, she could store more recent pictures without requiring extra space in her luggage.

  She’d felt, as a child, that her lack of belongings meant she was missing out on something. But after so many years of owning the most basic of personal effects, she’d found she could live without most stuff.

  There had, however, been two times in her life when she’d felt a tinge of interest in accumulating specific possessions. The most recent had been when she’d moved in with Rafe. He had a beautifully decorated loft in North Beach, and she’d envied how comfortable and intimate the place was, but also how it reflected his dynamic character.

  Jenna had liked the loft. And her life with Rafe. But there were other things about being married to an Italian man with a ginormous family that had left her feeling abnormal and overwhelmed. Thus, leaving for her career hadn’t been terribly difficult. Although, she’d missed her husband every time she’d taken on a restaurant makeover gig. He’d missed her too, she knew. And she’d not been surprised when divorce papers had arrived one day when she was working a job in Des Moines.

  It had pained her to sign them, but Jenna had known it wasn’t fair to Rafe to drag out their marriage, when she was so rarely in San Francisco…and had not been able to think of his loft as her home. She’d had to do the right thing for Rafe. He’d wanted—and had deserved—a real wife. Something Jenna could never be.

  It was probably wisest to sever the ties entirely. Yet Jenna couldn’t bring herself to do that. And tonight’s smoldering kiss had spoken volumes. Clearly, Rafe was still hot for her, years after they’d split. She felt the same about him.

  Making her wonder what sort of trouble her impromptu visit might incite.

  Chapter Three

  Rafe set his espresso on the high-top table situated in the far corner of the kitchen, straddled a stool and unfolded the newspaper as prep work for the lunch service ensued. He sipped his coffee as he scanned the pages for current news on restaurant closures. And sub
consciously ruminated over ways to reel in new diners so he didn’t become one more statistic, his legacy dying on the vine.

  When he’d made it through the paper, he spared a glance at the clock, curious as to whether Jenna would make it in on time. She had to be exhausted, flying in from Maui and then working well into the morning in his kitchen. Knowing her, she’d skipped a few hours of sleep to spend time on her laptop checking emails and doing all the other work that went hand-in-hand with her highly successful career.

  He couldn’t help but worry about her. The woman seriously needed to take some time off and recharge her batteries.

  Guilt crept in on him over the fact that she’d come to help him, when she should be lounging on the beaches of Bora Bora or something. But he reminded himself he’d not asked for her help… Nor could he send her packing. For one, she was too stubborn and wouldn’t leave when she had a work-related mission. Two, why the hell would he send her away when he’d waited so damn long to see her again?

  If he could just get her to hang out at the loft and relax a little. No anxiety over where she should be or what she should be doing. Just two weeks of chilling out. With him.

  “Dream on, sucker,” he muttered under his breath. Jenna Scarsdale didn’t know how to chill out.

  Rafe’s gaze flashed to the clock once more.

  Tonio caught him and let out a low snicker. The lanky man with the same dark hair as Rafe, though worn in a more cropped style, asked, “Afraid she jumped ship, boss?”

  Rafe eyed him over his shoulder. “That hit a bit too close to home, Tonio.”

  Contrite, his cousin said, “That’s not how I meant it. I was joking, Rafe. You just seem panicked.”

  Maybe he was. One could never tell when Jenna would breeze in or breeze out. Not even him, the one person she’d claimed knew her better than anyone. He’d quickly learned that sentiment didn’t mean dick.

  As he considered this, the back door flew open and the green-eyed beauty blew in, along with the crisp, early autumn wind.

  “Time?” she demanded in a low, breathless voice as she shoved the door closed with her shoulder, then rushed over to Rafe’s table.