Hot, Sexy & Bad

by Angelo, Judy, et al.

Maddy placed her black Birkin bag on the floor and sank into one of the chairs offered, only then realizing how very tired she was. She hadn’t slept well in the week since she’d last spoken to her father. Another young woman placed a fresh pot of coffee between them. “Thank you.” Maddy gratefully accepted the steaming cup and drank it black, barely feeling its burn.

  The shopkeeper took the seat across from her. “My name is Alyson.”

  Maddy let the coffee cup warm her cold fingers. “Mine is Madison, but you can call me Maddy.”

  “Maddy, that’s a beautiful name. You’re American?”

  “Yes. Is it that obvious?”

  “Not jeans and tennis shoes obvious, but I love your accent.”

  “Your English is very good.”

  The other woman smiled and Maddy relaxed. For a few minutes they talked about the weather and the beauty of the town. Then, as if she’d been holding the question in for too long, Alyson asked, “Are you in some sort of trouble?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Your clothes are expensive, but you look exhausted and pale. Are you on the run from a wealthy lover?” When Maddy blushed, Alyson said, “I’m sorry. My imagination is over the top. I know. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

  On the run from a wealthy lover? A tempting alternative to reality. Why be honest when no one else was? Maddy leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Please don’t tell anyone that you saw me.”

  Alyson’s eyes rounded. “You really are on the run?”

  I wish I were. “Yes.” A wicked thought came to her. She’d never deliberately done anything to worry or anger her parents. She’d happily followed their rules, secure in the belief that they loved her and would always keep her safe. That was before she’d discovered how little she actually knew them.

  Maybe it was time to show them how little they knew her.

  And what their lie had cost them.

  Maddy turned and looked at the racks of clothing and then back at Alyson. I could disguise myself. Urgently, she said, “I have money to pay you. Will you help me get away?”

  Alyson reached across the table and took Maddy’s hand in hers. “Women stick together, non? How can I help?”

  Although Maddy felt a little guilty for not correcting Alyson on her situation, she’d already set herself on this course. “I need to disappear, but it won’t be easy. I didn’t come here alone.”

  “He’s here?” Alyson whispered urgently.

  “No, but my bodyguard is. I’m never allowed anywhere without him.”

  “Controlling bastard. No wonder you left him. I’ll help you. Do you have anywhere to go?”

  Maddy thought of all the homes her family owned and shook her head. No matter which she chose, which friend or family member she turned to, her father would know. With only a few hundred dollars in cash, her options were limited. Using her credit card would give her location away. There was a downside to coming from a family who’d made their fortune in technology.

  “I would let you stay with me, but I have two roommates and it’s not possible. However, my brother has a house just outside of town,” Alyson said. “He has plenty of empty bedrooms and he is almost never there.”

  “I couldn’t,” Maddy said. It was one thing to agree with Alyson sneaking her out of town and another to impose on her family.

  “He won’t care. Trust me. You could be there a week and he wouldn’t notice.”

  Mouth suddenly dry, Maddy asked, “Are you suggesting that we don’t tell him?”

  Alyson laughed. “Oh, I’ll tell him. He just won’t hear me. He’s very intense, you know? All he cares about is his restaurant. He’s a chef, quite a famous one locally. If you were a pistou or a macaron, he might notice you, but everything else is an annoyance, you understand?”

  Not really, but Maddy imagined a short, stocky Frenchman in an apron and chef hat and suddenly staying with him was no longer intimidating. “If you’re sure it wouldn’t be a problem . . .”

  Alyson stood confidently and declared, “No problem at all. Do you have clothes with you or will you need everything?”

  “I—I guess I would need everything.” If I’m crazy enough to do this. “I don’t have a lot of cash on me, but I have some.”

  Alyson led her to one of the changing rooms and said, “Consider these a gift.” She looked Maddy over to assess her size, then walked back to the racks and flipped a few articles of clothing over her arm.

  “I couldn’t possibly not pay you,” Maddy protested and started to dig through her purse for money.

  Alyson returned and laid a hand on her forearm to calm her. “You pay me when you can. It’s not a problem. I trust you.”

  Although it was far from the first time Maddy had witnessed an act of charity, she had never been the recipient and wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. She’s helping me because of a lie. I’m here because I can’t stomach my parents’ lie. I have to tell her the truth. “You do not know me—” she started her confession, but Alyson spoke over her.

  “I was you, once.” The Frenchwoman’s eyes misted over. “It must be something about this town because I came here to this very shop, desperate and alone, and found exactly what I needed. The moment I saw you, I knew we had something in common and I want to—how do you say it—pay my good fortune forward?”

  Because we’re both scorned women on the run? Maddy felt trapped by her lie. She did want to escape—escape her family and the truth she wasn’t sure she could keep from Stephan the next time she saw him. Does it matter why I accept help as long as I need it?

  Desperate justifications were the first sign that you’re doing something wrong. Unable to meet Alyson’s eyes, Maddy accepted the clothing and said, “I haven’t been entirely honest with you, but you should know . . .”

  Alyson nudged Maddy into the changing room and closed the door between them. “It doesn’t matter. You’re free now.”

  Free. Maddy sighed and began to try on the clothing Alyson had given her. Each outfit fit as if it had been made for her and its simplicity was refreshing. Alyson had a good eye for sizes and style. Although the clothing was from past seasons, the skinny jeans and high-heeled suede cutout boots were still in fashion.

  Dressed in jeans with a tucked-in oversized linen shirt, Maddy rejoined Alyson, whose arms were overflowing with two shirts, a skirt, and a pair of slacks. Alyson placed them in a large white plastic bag with handles. She accepted the articles of clothing from Maddy and added them to the bag.

  Maddy asked, “Are you sure I can’t give you something for these now?”

  “I’m sure,” Alyson said. “I’ve included some intimate garments and a modest nightgown. You can’t sleep naked at my brother’s house. Although, then he just may notice you, non?” She winked and smiled.

  “I’m sure your brother is wonderful, but even if he did like me, I’m not looking for a relationship right now. My life is already out of control.”

  Alyson studied Maddy for a moment then nodded. “I understand that feeling, too. Come, let’s go. I’ll call my brother on the way. Don’t worry. You don’t have to like him. He’s a big boy, non? He takes care of himself.”

  “Are you sure he’ll be okay with me staying there?”

  “Oui, oui, although he may say differently. The barking dog is not the one who will bite, you understand?”

  Maddy shook her head, but followed Alyson out the back door of the shop and into the small alley where her car was parked. “Not really, no. I’m not a dog person.”

  Alyson laughed as they both buckled themselves in. “I love American humor. You’re so funny.”

  Maddy clung to the door handle as the small yellow Renault Clio hatchback flew down the narrow driveway and cut off another as it flew onto the main road. What if Alyson really does know who I am, and I just became the most willing kidnappee on the planet? No one knows where I’m going.

  Am I standing up for myself and what I believe in or putting myself in danger?

 
; For once, I’m not sure I care either way.

  “Get out,” Richard D’Argenson roared in French. The flurry of activity in the kitchen of his restaurant froze.

  “Let me explain,” the saucier answered hastily.

  “There is no explanation needed. You rushed your sauce like a fumbling teenager chasing his first orgasm. People wait for a year to taste my specials. Do you think they want this . . . shit?”

  “I just raised the heat a little to shorten the cooking time by a minute or so . . .”

  “Just . . . just . . . if you wonder what holds you back from being great you revealed it in that one word. Your job was to precisely follow my instructions. I create. I experiment. You take direction and learn. When you have your own restaurant you can serve them whatever slop you want, but here you cook the way I say or you go. So, get out—”

  “You can’t fire me with no notice and just before Christmas.”

  “That’s not my problem.”

  “Please, I’ll watch my times more carefully in the future . . .”

  Richard’s cell phone rang in his pants pocket. Everyone knew not to call him during busy times unless it was a life or death situation and even then he’d rather hear about the outcome later. It rang through to voicemail, but then began to ring again.

  “What am I going to tell my wife?”

  “Mon Dieu!” Richard growled, whipped out his phone, and barked, “What?”

  Unlike almost everyone else in his domain, his sister did not waver or apologize in the face of his temper. “Richard, I have a favor to ask.”

  “I’m busy right now,” Richard snapped, pinning the man across from him. “If I don’t get this idiot out of my kitchen soon, no one will eat tonight.” His next threat was issued to the others who had paused to watch the exchange. “And no one besides me will be working here tomorrow.”

  All but the man he was firing returned to their stations and resumed cooking.

  “Then just say yes,” his sister suggested.

  “To what? Say it fast. I don’t have time for this nonsense.”

  “I need a place for my friend to stay for a few days.”

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Richard, this is important. I’d have her stay with me, but you know I can’t. Please? You have so many rooms that just sit empty.”

  “I’m not a hotel.”

  “She has nowhere else to go. She’s desperate.”

  “That’s not my problem.”

  “Richard, have some compassion. She just broke up with a wealthy man and needs a place to disappear for a while. Do you remember Maman’s second husband? These things can be tricky.”

  “This sounds like an equally tiresome situation.”

  “Do this for me, Richard. I promise, you won’t even know she’s there.”

  “That’s what you said about the cat you brought me, and he’s still at my house destroying my curtains.”

  “This is different. Trust me.”

  The man before him was still talking, still pleading for his job, but Richard had tuned him out.

  “Fine. She can stay the weekend, but that’s it. I won’t be there very much anyway. This is a busy season for me.”

  “Thank you, Richard. You won’t regret this.”

  “I’d better not,” he said and hung up.

  The saucier said, “You’re a reasonable man—”

  “Is it reasonable to agree to house some crazy woman in my home and likely be robbed for doing it? Non, I don’t think so. But I do it because it is the right thing to do. Just like giving you the opportunity to walk out of here on your own without the embarrassment of me throwing you out the door. I offer you a chance to retain your dignity.” He looked down at his watch. “That offer expires in thirty seconds.”

  “I have said I won’t do it again. What more do you want from me?”

  “Twenty seconds. Please don’t drag this out. I have a soufflé in the oven.”

  “You’re insane.”

  “Ten seconds.” Richard removed his apron and said, “I’d hate to get blood on my favorite apron.”

  The man paled and retreated a few steps. He appealed to the sous chef. “Bertrand, talk to him. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve for God’s sake.”

  An older gentleman with white hair and an easy smile intervened, “Richard, let me handle this. Thibeault, go back to your station. Finish your sauce then go home. Come in tomorrow and we’ll discuss if you still have a job.”

  Richard turned to the man he normally respected. “You forget your place, Bertrand. This is my kitchen.”

  When the saucier had returned to his station, Bertrand said, “Richard, I have worked with you for many years now, isn’t that so?”

  His temper cooling, Richard gave a reluctant nod. Once upon a time Bertrand had taken a risk with Richard and given him the money to open the restaurant. They were partners of sorts. Bertrand was a good chef, but he acknowledged Richard’s gift and that they worked better together when Richard created and Bertrand maintained.

  “I know the holidays make you a little crazy in the head.” Bertrand smiled as he spoke. “Last week you would have bellowed and scared the man into precision. You wouldn’t have fired him. Perhaps it is you who should take a day off. Go see your sister. Take the vacation you never allow yourself. Face the demon that makes this time of year unbearable for you.”

  “When I want your advice, I will ask for it,” Richard growled.

  “What kind of friend would I be if I waited that long?” Bertrand said cheerfully and walked away.

  In the quiet that had fallen over his kitchen again, Richard roared to his staff, “Get back to work. We have people to feed.”

  With a nervous burst of energy, the kitchen returned to order and productivity.

  Richard sighed with relief when he checked on his soufflé and saw that it had a minute or two left to firm. He hadn’t ruined it yet. He caught the saucier watching him cautiously from across the room and swore beneath his breath. It was true, any other week of the year he would have chastised the man for his lack of dedication to detail, but he wouldn’t have fired him for the first offense. In that, Bertrand was right. He was wrong, though, to think that taking a day off would lighten the dark mood that descended on Richard each Christmas.

  In Sablet, celebrations started before Christmas and lasted well past. He wasted time each year decorating his restaurant for a holiday that meant nothing to him and fending off invitations from neighbors who thought that a date on the calendar meant he should not be alone—unable to believe that alone was how he preferred to be.

  Alone was never a disappointment. The days when he tried to please others, like his sister, by joining in festivities were long gone. She still dropped by on Christmas morning, but she had friends in town, who had become her family, and after a brief visit she would leave to celebrate with them.

  And leave him in peace.

  Something he wasn’t going to have since he’d agreed to Alyson’s ridiculous request.

  What the hell was he going to do with a woman in his house for Christmas?

  Chapter Two

  Late in the evening, Maddy was exploring the west wing of a ten-bedroom stone mansion and wondering about the man who owned it. Moderately expensive paintings were scattered throughout the house along with empty places where others had likely hung.

  What had happened to them?

  The furniture was elegant in design, but told the same story as the empty places on the walls. Each room contained just enough furniture to be functional, but the places where valuable pieces might have been showcased were bare.

  One day before Christmas Eve and there wasn’t a ribbon, candle, or wreath for decoration. Curiosity drove her through each room as she hunted for even the tiniest evidence of holiday cheer. She thought of the lengths her family went to each year to decorate their thirty-plus-acre estate near New York City. There wasn’t a corner of the house that didn’t sparkle cheerfully or display photos of pa
st Christmases. She and her mother spent an entire day each year directing the staff on exactly how and where to hang the festive greenery. It was something she’d often taken for granted.

  The stark absence of any holiday decoration saddened Maddy on many levels. She felt sorry for the man who owned this large, cold house. Had he experienced a financial devastation that had taken away not only his treasures but also his ability to enjoy his home? The bedrooms she entered were clean and well-maintained, but all were as lifeless as the last. If one had been his, she couldn’t tell it apart from the others.

  Maddy headed back to the suite Alyson had helped her settle into and felt a bit ridiculous. What was I thinking? I have money. I don’t have to hide out here. I should call a car service and check into the nearest hotel.

  But then my family will know where I am.

  She’d turned off her phone on the drive over, right after sending her father a text: “Tell Gino I won’t be meeting him at the limo. I’m okay.” Short. To the point. Let them know she was alive without giving away her location.

  She sat on a couch near a large double window and smiled when the cat Alyson had simply called Minet hopped into her lap. She petted him absently while talking herself through her decision. “They should be grateful. I’d never make it through a family dinner and keep my silence.”

  The cat’s only answer was a happy purr. Maddy picked him up and looked into his golden eyes. “What story did you use to get here?” The cat looked back at her blandly. “I supposedly am on the run from some ex-lover. What a joke. Who can date with Gino around?”

  The cat mewed loudly. Maddy joked, “Neutered, huh? Okay, you win. Your love life officially sucks more than mine.”

  Putting Minet at her feet, Maddy stood again and decided to change into something to sleep in. She hunted through the top layers of clothing Alyson had bagged for her until she touched something silky while saying, “So, tell me about the man who owns this house. What does he look like? Is he short? Does he sample too many of his desserts? How about his teeth? Does he have any?”

  Maddy pulled the silky nightgown out and held it up. Although its length would almost reach her knees, the material was thin to the point of practically being sheer. Pink silk with accents of white. Apparently she and Alyson didn’t share the same definition of modest. The pink thong underwear that came with it still had a tag on it. No surprise. Does underwear matter when it’s also see-through?