“Caleb?”
“No way. Have you seen Kourtney?” He held up his phone to show a picture of a woman with bleached-blond hair and breasts so large, Adam wondered how she was able to walk upright.
Dan’s brows furrowed together as he studied the same impressive features. “They’re fake.”
“Who cares?” Caleb snatched the phone back and slipped it into his pocket. “I’m just thankful she agreed to move to Utah with me.”
For the first time ever, Adam heard a wistful note to his brother’s voice. “Serious about this one?”
“Possibly.”
“Has Mom met her?”
The tips of Caleb’s ears turned red, and he refused to meet Adam’s gaze. “Um, yeah.”
Dan leaned over and whispered, “It didn’t go well.”
Adam’s breath caught. Growing up, he’d always known what was happening in his brothers’ lives. Why didn’t he know about this? “When did that happen?”
“A couple of months ago when Mom came down to Florida.” Caleb ran his fingers through his closely cropped hair. “Kourtney tried to impress her, but Mom was giving her a hard time.”
Based on the picture Caleb had shown him, he could only imagine the exchange between their high-society mother and the woman who looked like she’d landed the starring role in an adult film. “If you want me to try to smooth things over—”
Caleb silenced him by holding up his hand. “Don’t worry about it, Adam. I have this taken care of. You have enough to worry about with the business.”
The business none of his brothers wanted any part in running. Their father had built a fortune in Chicago real estate, but only Adam had shown any interest in taking over it when he died six years ago. The rest of his brothers went on to pursue their own interests, leaving him to shoulder the burden alone. It was what was expected of him, and the big brother role was never easy to shake off. “But if you need any help or advice, you know how to reach me.”
“Thanks, bro.” Caleb bumped his fist against Adam’s and gave him half hug. “But just to let you know, I’m not planning on proposing or anything to Kourtney until after I get back from Bagram. I need to keep my head straight over there, not answer e-mails about wedding shit.”
“Good plan.” Adam patted him on the back and followed his brothers into the dining room that overlooked the lake.
Lia was setting a platter on the center of the table. “Oh, you have perfect timing. I was just about to call everyone in for the first course.”
That uncomfortable rush of heat washed over him as she circled the table, adjusting each place setting. The gentle sway of her hips had his fingers itching to caress their curves, to grab hold of that pert little bottom and press her close to him once again.
“Aren’t you going to join us, Lia?” His mother came up behind him and sat at the edge of the table. It was only then that he noticed it had been set for five people, not six.
Lia paused at the door leading to kitchen. “Sorry, Mrs. Kelly, but I need to keep cooking if I want to get each course out on time.”
“Don’t worry, Maureen,” Lia’s mother said, sitting across from his mother. “I’ll make sure she takes a break and sits down at the table for a bit.”
Adam, however, welcomed the fact Lia would be spending most of the evening in the kitchen. There was no way he’d be able to eat anything if he had a continual hard-on throughout the meal.
He took a seat next to his mother and inspected the rectangular platter Lia had placed in the center of the table. Rows of bruschetta, olives, thinly sliced meats, and other Italian finger foods filled it from side to side. He held it out so his mother could choose what she wanted before placing a few items on his plate.
“What are those fried things?” Dan asked when the platter made its way to him.
“Squash blossoms,” Lia’s mother replied. “It’s a popular antipasto in Italy.”
Images of a heavy, pasta-laden dinner flashed through Adam’s mind, but the first bite of bruschetta caught him off guard. It was fresh and garlicky with a solid kick of spice at the end. Definitely not the boring Italian fare he’d had before.
“Like it, Adam?” his mother asked with a grin. “Lia is one of the top chefs in Chicago.”
Despite the fact this was another one of her obvious set-ups to introduce him to a “nice girl,” perhaps the meal itself would be enjoyable. He reached for a second piece of bruschetta before his brothers took them all. “Very good.”
As he sampled each item on the platter, he discovered how Lia had taken a traditional Italian dish and added her own twist. The prosciutto-wrapped melon concealed a hidden stick of cucumber inside, and the olives were bathed in citrus-infused oil. “This is fabulous. Which restaurant does she work at?”
“La Arietta,” her mother answered.
There was something familiar about that name. Perhaps one of his friends had mentioned it to him in the past, but it was definitely moving onto his list of places to try when he wanted to impress a client.
The platter emptied faster than he realized, leaving his mouth watering for more. It was the perfect excuse to go into the kitchen and learn more about the chef. He grabbed it and stood. “I’ll go see if she has any more.”
But the second he laid eyes on her, his tongue grew thick and clumsy. Frustration crawled up his spine. He’d dated models, met with high-ranking politicians, schmoozed with Chicago’s elite for years, and none of them had delivered a blow to his confidence. Yet here he was, struggling to find a way to tell Lia that he enjoyed her food.
Her back was to him as she stirred something in a pan, her hips swaying as though she were dancing instead of cooking. She’d pulled her hair up into a ponytail, but a few rebellious curls had managed to break free along the nape of her neck. The button-down shirt she’d been wearing earlier was tied around her waist, the underlying tank top allowing him a better view of her smooth, sun-kissed skin. She hummed as she worked, each flick of her spoon releasing the aromas of garlic and fresh herbs into the air.
She turned around from the stove and froze when she saw him. “Is something wrong?”
The platter grew heavy in his hands, reminding him of why he’d come in the first place. “I was wondering if you had any more.”
She grinned and carried her pan to the center island. “If you fill up on the antipasti, you’ll have no room for the prima.”
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembered that the prima course in Italy usually involved pasta. But the dish she was plating now resembled rice. He came closer to inspect it. “And is this it?”
She nodded. “Orzo con verdure estive arrosto.”
“In English?”
“Orzo with roasted summer vegetables.” She placed a small hill of the orzo pasta with chunks of summer squash, zucchini, artichoke hearts, asparagus, tomatoes, and mushrooms onto each plate before offering a spoonful to him. “Care to try?”
“As long as there’s no shrimp in it.”
“Mom mentioned that some of you weren’t big fans of shrimp. Don’t worry—this is completely vegetarian.”
A harmony of flavors sang on his tongue when he sampled it. Bright basil, rich parmesan, zesty lemon, and smooth olive oil all balanced each other out and left him wanting to grab the spoon and scrape the pan clean. She watched him expectantly, her assured smile tempting him to sample more than just her cooking. He stepped back before he lost control of himself. “It’s very good.”
“I know.” She placed the pan in the sink and drizzled some olive oil over each plate of orzo. “It’s one of my most popular dishes.”
He watched the way she wiped the edges of each plate clean before adorning the pasta with a few shavings of parmesan and a sprig of basil. “Did you have any special culinary training?”
“I spent three years in Italy, learning from my aunts first before finally getting enough courage to enroll in more formal classes there.”
“And is this what you’ve always wanted to d
o?”
“Not always, but once I discovered my passion, I’ve never been able to let go.” She looked up from her work, her smile widening. “Have you ever felt that way about something, been caught totally by surprise and never realized how deep you were into it until it totally consumed you?”
Before today he might have said his work consumed him, but it didn’t capture his attention and make his breath catch like Lia did. His pulse raced, not from stress but from excitement and anticipation, as she spoke of her passion. If he could only have a tenth of that passion....
He narrowed the space between them as though they were two opposite poles of a magnet, the force too strong for him to resist. “I think I might have an idea of what you’re talking about.”
She licked her lips, a seductive move he’d seen dozens of women practice in his presence, but with Lia it seemed to be unconscious. “Oh?”
God help me, does she have any idea what she’s doing? He was close enough now to catch the faint scent of peaches that rose from her skin. His cock throbbed. He hadn’t been this worked up about a girl since high school. He dug his fingers into his palms to keep from acting like a complete Neanderthal and kissing her right there.
A loud burst of laughter came from the dining as though his brothers could see his predicament through the wooden door. His desire doused, he took a step back, painfully aware of the confused set of her mouth as she watched him. “Let me help you carry the next course out.”
She blinked several times before she murmured a choked “Thank you,” and grabbed three of the plates.
He took the other two and followed her into the dining room, setting one in front of his mother before putting the other in front of his chair. His mind felt fuzzy, like he’d had too much to drink even though he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol. Sweat pricked the back of his neck. As long as Lia was in the kitchen, he needed to stay out.
“You okay, Adam?” Dan asked from across the table, one brow raised.
“Yeah,” he replied, flicking out his napkin and placing it on his lap. “Just peachy.”
Chapter Two
Lia pressed her palms to her cheeks to cool them. What the hell had just happened? One minute Adam seemed to be coming on to her, and then—BAM!—he was backing off like he’d just learned she carried the plague.
She pulled the chicken breasts she’d prepped out of the fridge and pounded them with a mallet. It didn’t matter that she’d already flattened them out to the half-inch thickness she needed for the recipe—it just felt good to hit something.
Even more frustrating was her reaction to him. Normally she would’ve considered a guy getting that close to her an invasion of her personal space. Instead, she had to fight the urge to wrap her arms around his neck and reel his lips toward hers.
“It’s just because he’s a good-looking man and I’ve been celibate for longer than I care to admit,” she whispered as she coated the chicken breasts in breadcrumbs and laid them in the sizzling pan. “I don’t have time to get mixed up with anyone, much less him.”
Of course, if he scratched her itch and got it out of her system…
Don’t even go there. Adam Kelly fell into the damn sexy category with those piercing blue eyes and dark hair, but experience had taught her men like him were incapable of staying true to one woman, and she had no desire to be the other woman. She was better off focusing on dinner and not allowing herself to be distracted by him.
Fifteen minutes later, she’d plated the next course and was ready to deliver it to the Kellys. Once that was done, she only had to prepare the dolce and pack her things up. Over. Done. Far away from Adam Kelly and back home where she could dream up tomorrow’s special for La Arietta.
Her resolve crumbled the moment she felt his eyes on her. He followed her every movement as she placed the secondo in front of his brothers and removed their prima plates. When she finally got to him, her stomach was tied in knots.
“This looks delicious,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at the food.
Her skin burned. “It is,” she managed to say before her hands started shaking.
“I’ll take that.” He reached up and took the plate from her, his hands brushing against hers and doubling the intensity of the throbbing heat in her lower stomach.
She bit back her yelp, releasing the plate as though she’d been zapped by a jolt of electricity.
“Don’t let Adam scare you,” Caleb said from across the table. “He always gets what he wants and isn’t afraid to grab it.”
Always got what he wanted, huh? Would he follow her into the kitchen again and grab her? He continued to watch her, perhaps hoping to catch some sort of invitation from her. If she gave it to him....
Nope, not going there. Not even going to indulge in the fantasy of it. She would be professional and treat this as though the Kelly family were guests in her restaurant.
She wiped her hands on her apron as though she could remove the memory of his touch. “I hope you enjoy it. Be sure to leave room for dessert, though.”
“I definitely will.”
Oh, dear Lord, the way he said the words almost had her wanting to offer herself for dessert. Would he continue to have that low rumble in his voice as he tasted her skin?
She couldn’t escape to the kitchen quickly enough.
****
Guilt tightened Adam’s chest as Lia bolted for the kitchen. He hadn’t meant to scare her away. Perhaps he’d read her wrong earlier. Maybe she was some sort of reclusive spinster who freaked out when a man touched her. The idea still barely tempered the strong pull she had on him every time she entered the room.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into Lia tonight,” her mother was saying. “She’s normally so friendly, always ready to join a conversation.”
“It probably didn’t help that Adam yanked his dinner out of her hands,” Caleb replied. “Nice manners, bro.”
“I was only trying to help. It looked like her hands were full.” And she was about to spill everything on me.
“Perhaps you should apologize to her.” His mother said the words with a sweet smile, but the tone was the same one she used when she would suggest he go to his room and think about whatever naughty thing he’d done as a child.
He eyed the door to kitchen as though it were a gateway to hell, a place of never-ending torment. “I’ll give her a few minutes to settle down. Besides, I want to enjoy the food while it’s still hot.”
Once again, Lia’s dish surprised him. It was a thin, breaded chicken breast, but she’d topped it with arugula, cherry tomatoes, and some sort of cool lemony mustard sauce. The combination of flavors and textures produced the same balanced harmony he’d come to expect from her cooking. He devoured it, sopping up the last drops of sauce with the warm bread that had been sitting on the table.
“I’m sure Lia would love to hear how much you enjoyed the meal,” his mother said before he’d finished chewing. In other words his time had run out, and unless he came up with another excuse, he was bound for the kitchen.
“Yes, Mom.” He stood and stretched, doing everything he could to delay the inevitable torture that awaited him on the other side of the door. He could be an adult and ignore the inner hunger that plagued him. As long as he didn’t look at her, didn’t allow thoughts of how wonderful her curves felt, didn’t wonder how her lips would taste, he’d be fine. After all, she was just one of his mother’s friends.
He opened the door and peeked into the kitchen. Lia stood in front of the island, drizzling a bright pink sauce over little bowls of pale orange gelato. When she finished, she squirted some of the sauce onto her finger, the tip of her tongue darting out to lick it off.
Damn, didn’t she know never to do that in front of a man? “Can’t resist your own cooking?”
She jumped, her eyes wide, the sauce smearing along the side of that luscious mouth. “I just wanted to make sure the flavors had had time to meld.”
“Uh-huh.” He approached her slowly, eac
h step a measured act of control. “And have they?”
She back away until she hit the opposite counter. “Have they what?”
“Melded together?” He was right in front of her now, desperately fighting the urge to taste the sauce lingering on her lips for himself.
Her tongue flicked out again, removing some of it. “I think so.”
Before he knew what was happening, his thumb was on her cheek, cleaning away the sauce she’d missed. Her breath hitched when it traced the edge of her bottom lip. It was so soft, so full. Practically begging to be caught between his teeth as he kissed her.
Instead, he withdrew his hand and tasted what was on his thumb. Raspberry, with a hint of rum and mint. “I agree.”
The tension eased from her shoulders. “I’ve paired it with cantaloupe gelato.”
That’s right—focus on the food, not her. “Interesting combination, but then, I’d expect nothing less from you.” The compliment came easily. His gut unclenched. There. He could have a conversation with her without being ambushed by sexual thoughts every three seconds.
“I hope your family will like it, too.”
“I’m sure they will.” Despite his reassurance, she still squirmed against the countertop, reminding him why he’d come back into the kitchen in the first place. “I wanted to apologize if I’ve done anything to make you uncomfortable tonight.”
“I suppose it’s like your brother said—you’re used to getting what you want.” A hint of a challenge edged into her voice. “But then, I should’ve expected that from someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” He crossed his arms, refusing to give an inch until he got to the bottom of this. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“Just that. You’re rich, handsome.” His ego preened until she added, “I bet you thought I’d fall all over myself to get your attention.”
“Excuse me?”
She brushed past him and placed sprigs of mint in the bowls. “Let’s face it, Adam. We’ve both been tricked here because our mothers think they know what’s best for us when clearly we’re two very different people.”
The Sweetest Seduction, Breakaway Hearts Page 2
