by Amanda Usen
She sat, staring at her phone, hoping Betsy would reply fast. Her wish was answered. Of course you are. Until you go home next week. Relax and enjoy it.
Betsy also included links to several recent images of Roman getting cozy with gorgeous celebrities. Thank God for Betsy and her cool head. Jenna’s heart settled into a more reasonable rhythm. Right. Thanks.
Roman was never going to give her the life she desired. She wanted what her parents had created with Cooper’s, a restaurant life with family at heart. The fact that Roman had worked every holiday since the last one he’d spent with her family spoke volumes. He loved transforming restaurants and he was good at it. He specialized in short-term relationships, and she had firsthand experience that he was good at that, too. Roman worked hard, partied harder, and had no intention of doing anything else. He was the epitome of a successful working chef with the glamour of a celebrity. For God’s sake, he didn’t have enough time to form a long-term relationship with a dog. She would enjoy the next few days and then she would go back to Lambertville with great memories and a solid plan for her future—a future that did not include him.
She made it as far as the door before she caught sight of the sparkling ring on her finger, and her insides turned to Jell-O again. When her phone buzzed in her pocket, she snatched it, hoping for more much-needed detachment from Betsy. Instead, it was Lila. You guys! Jackson proposed! I didn’t run away this time and you were right. Thank you! XOXOXO!
Jenna leaned her head against the door and closed her eyes, happy for her friend yet needing a moment to frame her reply. Finally, she straightened up and went with Congratulations, sweetie!
“Oh shit,” she whispered, sagging against the door again.
She gazed at the diamond on her finger, feeling her throat close up. Was a happy ending for her and Roman possible, too? She tapped out a message to Betsy, wondering if she could change a simple personality characteristic and find instant, lifelong happiness.
Just out of curiosity…if Lila’s a bolter, what am I?
She waited, fearing she already knew the answer.
Someone who doesn’t know when to quit…but in the best way possible. A maker of beautiful disasters. A visionary. You can do this. Just stick to the plan.
But the plan had snowballed since she arrived in California. In a little over a week she had created a new dessert menu for the Beach House, a fancy dessert for Las Vegas, and gotten herself engaged…at least in the eyes of the world. If she didn’t slow down, she was going to roll right over her damn plan. She needed to remember her priority—Cooper’s.
She called up the photos Betsy had sent her and paged through them again. He had a different woman on his arm in every one of them. She was just this week’s woman.
Damn right I am. Her nerves buzzed with anticipation and her body heated. She would stick to the plan, all right, especially everything they planned to do in Las Vegas.
…
Roman took Jenna’s hand and led her across the deck. The place was so packed they had to wind their way through the bodies, dodging elbows and drinks. The kitchen was slammed with orders. Every seat was taken, and people spilled out onto the beach.
He nodded to the deejay and stepped up to the microphone, tapping it to make sure it was on. “I want to thank all of you for coming and making our first beach party a roaring success. The new spirit of the Beach House was a joint effort, and I’m honored to announce that I’ve not only found an amazing partner in the kitchen, but also in my life.” A bright light at the back of the crowd caught his eye, and he realized a camera crew had arrived. He pulled Jenna in front of him and wrapped his arms around her. “This is Jenna Cooper, pastry chef extraordinaire and the woman responsible for inspiring the new menu and stealing my heart. Thank God she agreed to marry me because I’d be lost without her.” Jenna turned to look up at him, eyes shining with happiness. His breath caught, and the crowd cheered when he kissed her.
He lifted his head to say, “Chocolate chip cookies and Pacific fries are on the house.” Then he swept Jenna off her feet and carried her through the crowd, amidst catcalls and backslapping, into the kitchen where Max and the gang were holding the doors open. The cookies and fries had been her idea. Free food served the double purpose of attracting a crowd and giving them something to soak up the alcohol. So far she’d been right. The drinks were flowing, but the crowd was mellow and cheery, making themselves at home.
Jenna was in motion as soon as her feet touched the tile. “I’ll get the cookies.” She disappeared toward dry storage where they had stashed the platters.
T-Bird and the other two cooks headed back to the line. Max stayed behind. Things were still strained between them, and the scowl on Max’s face indicated they were about to get worse.
“Marriage? What the hell, Roman, are you kidding me?”
Roman nodded. “I’m afraid so, but don’t tell anyone. The ring was her idea, and the engagement is fake, just a ploy to get good press for Gallagher Holdings. But you were one hundred percent right—Jenna is the woman of my dreams. I think I could fall in love with her, man. Unfortunately, she has her heart set on a quickie with a workaholic playboy. Then she’s going to leave my ass in the dust.”
Max’s lips twitched and the tense set of his shoulders softened. “There is a certain poetic justice in that.”
Roman nodded mournfully as they watched Jenna enlist waiters to carry trays of cookies into the dining room.
He felt Max looking at him. “Did you guys do it yet?”
Roman kept his eyes on Jenna and said nothing.
“Unbelievable.” Max snickered. “It must be love. When are you leaving for Vegas?”
“Monday morning.”
“Plenty of time. Don’t worry about the Beach House. I’ve got it covered.” Max clapped him on the shoulder. “But I wouldn’t count on sex to make her fall in love with you. I’d hire a limo, make fantastic dinner reservations, and book the Honeymoon Suite, too. And it probably wouldn’t hurt to consult Elvis while you’re there. He got the babes in truckloads.”
Roman could hardly breathe. The thought of having sex with Jenna didn’t fill him with anxiety or guilt. Instead, anticipation made him jubilant. What had changed? His intentions. He didn’t want to stall her until she changed her mind. Instead, he wanted to be a man worthy of the crush she’d always had on him. Somehow. He banished his doubts. He’d never failed to achieve a goal he’d set his mind to. By God, he’d be more than a fleeting memory to her.
“You know you’re a prick, right?” But Roman was already moving toward the office with his phone in his hand.
“Good luck, tiger,” Max called after him. “I’m glad you finally came to your senses.”
He would have made a rude gesture, but he really did owe the guy for the wake-up call and the excellent suggestions for Vegas.
“Thanks, man.” He glanced over his shoulder and laughed when Max flipped him the bird.
Chapter Nine
After making sure all of the cookies had been strategically deployed, Jenna slipped into the bar. “I need a drink.”
The bartender, a burly surfer with dark curls, lifted an eyebrow. “Name your poison.”
She pointed at a pitcher of red liquid on the counter. “What’s that?”
“Hibiscus margarita. Stronger than it sounds.”
“Perfect.” She accepted a glass from him and took a slug. It was tart, sweet, and soothing. Resolve notwithstanding, that little scene out on the deck had felt too real, and she needed to blur the edges a little. She downed the rest of the drink. Then she set the glass in a rack under the bar, and ducked into the kitchen, already feeling more relaxed.
“You guys need help?” she asked Max.
“All set.” He winked. “Why don’t you go celebrate?”
She opened her mouth to set him straight, but a hard arm slid around her waist. Roman pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, burning every coherent thought from her head. Maybe the drink hadn’t bee
n such a good idea.
“Cookies done?” He nibbled her ear.
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
“Then grab your purse. Let’s get out of here.”
He took her hand and led her to the office where she collected her belongings. They were out the side door before she came to her senses. “Don’t you want to stay and celebrate? The beach party is a huge success. This is your moment of glory.”
“Our moment of glory,” he corrected. “And there is no one I want to spend it with but you.” His car was parked outside from their earlier shopping trip, and he helped her into it and shut the door.
She indulged in a deep sigh as she watched him. God, he was good. Smooth and suave. He knew just what to say. Of course, he’d had plenty of practice, she reminded herself.
He slid into the car beside her. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.” She hadn’t eaten since this afternoon, and it was after ten. “Want to come into the house, and I’ll make you a sandwich?” she asked, before she noticed they weren’t headed for Mar Vista. “Wait…where are we going?”
“Las Vegas.”
“What? I haven’t packed, and our supplies are stashed all over the Beach House coolers and freezers. I thought we didn’t have to leave until Monday?” The pleasant buzz of tequila disappeared as she began mentally going over her lists, not in the least reassured when he grinned and pulled into his driveway.
“We don’t, but everything is ready to go, right? All we have to do is pack it up?”
“Yes, but I don’t understand—”
He turned off the engine and got out of the car. She opened her door, not giving him time to meet her. “Roman, what’s going on?”
He took her arm, guided her toward the house, and opened the door with a flourish. “Welcome to Las Vegas.”
She stepped inside. A bottle of champagne was chilling on the counter. The table was set for two. The scent of warm bread and seafood filled the air. She could see candles lit on the back porch. Her heart beat faster, and a smile broke out across her face. “What’s all this?”
“Our work is done. It’s time to play.”
She jumped as a tall man with dark hair materialized from the kitchen. “Anything else, Chef?”
“All set, James. Thanks for helping out on short notice. Everything looks great.”
She drifted toward the kitchen to see what was cooking as Roman walked James to the door. Her mouth watered at the sight of a pan of white lasagna cooling on top of the stove.
“Nothing beats room service.”
She turned to see Roman standing in the doorway. Her appetite vanished. Vegas. Time to play. That meant…
She caught her breath as he walked toward her. There was no mistaking the hunger in his gaze. Tension sizzled in her chest, and the air filling her lungs felt thick and tropical. He stopped beside her and opened the oven, then grabbed a towel and removed a tray of bread. He turned off the oven. “Okay if we eat in a little while?”
Her mouth opened, but no sound emerged.
“I’m going to take that as a yes.” He dipped his head and fused their mouths.
At the touch of his lips, she knew she’d been fooling herself. It was impossible not to hope for more than she was going to get from him, but she wasn’t going to forego the ride because it didn’t last forever.
“Yes, please,” she whispered.
He took her hand and guided her into the bedroom, where there were more candles. Rose petals were strewn over the bed. She was grinning like a fool, but she didn’t care. He pointed at the pillow, and she reached for the box of truffles, setting it onto the bedside table. “Brilliant of you to realize one truffle is never enough.”
“I apply that logic to chocolate and orgasms.”
“Hallelujah,” she whispered as he ripped open her chef coat and shoved it to the floor. Her shirt was over her head before she could take another breath. He popped the hooks on her bra, divesting her of it, before he shoved her onto the bed and removed her shoes and socks. She lifted her hips as he yanked her pants and underwear over her hips.
“Cute panties.”
And thank God she’d shaved her legs…and everything else.
“Fantastic,” he moaned, heaving her farther up the bed. He threw off his clothes even faster than he’d stripped hers and settled on top of her a heartbeat later, skin to skin.
“I’ve been thinking of this.” His words were strained. “For days.”
She wrapped her arms around his broad back, shivering in pleasure as his hardness pressed against her thigh. “I’ve got you beat…try years.”
Her breath left her lungs in a pant as he moved down her body. He smoothed his hand over her hip and bent his head to her breasts. He caught one nipple between his teeth and tugged. Her hips arched off the bed and he caught her, sliding a finger inside.
His grunt was a soft puff of air against her breast. “You’re ready for me.”
The thought of him thrusting inside her made her tremble. She clenched around his fingers, desperately wishing to reverse their positions and crawl on top of him, but she wanted him to possess her. Her craving was sharp, violent, and all-consuming. She couldn’t speak. Tears prickled her eyes. She needed him to lose control and take her with him, but if she had to ask, she was going to fall apart.
She threaded her fingers through his sun-streaked hair. He glanced up, met her gaze, and stilled. Her breast popped free from his mouth, and his fingers stopped moving inside her. Her heartbeat connected them, a steady pulse she could hear and feel in her throat, wrists, and groin. He sat up on the bed and opened a drawer in the bedside table.
“No more waiting.” He rolled a condom over his cock and tossed the wrapper to the floor. He grabbed her hips, moving her into the center of the bed, and settled himself between her legs, pushing her thighs wide with his. She pulled her knees up, cradling him with her hips and moaned as he moved back and forth, rubbing the length of his cock along her opening. Each dragging glide against her clit took her higher. She arched her back just as he reached her entrance, and with one smooth, hard thrust, he entered her.
She lost her breath as her world exploded. Every muscle in her body tensed. Bright colors flashed on the inside of her eyelids. She clutched him, pulling him closer, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist. She heard him shout. Then his mouth covered hers in a bruising kiss while his hips hammered into her in short, hard strokes, and the initial ecstasy she had felt when he entered her turned into something larger, stronger. She felt herself stretching to accommodate him. Every movement stroked something deep inside her, and she rose on an intense wave of pleasure. She anchored herself to him and rode the wave, letting it take her where it would. He shuddered, thrusting deep and holding her there, groaning. She felt his hand in her hair, pulling her head back.
“Open your eyes.” His voice was harsh, barely recognizable.
Her lids felt heavy, but she did as he asked. His gaze was bright, avid as he devoured her expression. She hovered at the crest, startled, until he began to thrust again. There was violent satisfaction in his gaze as he watched her, and it was as much his hungry regard as his relentless hips that pushed her over the edge.
“Roman,” she whispered, coming apart.
She watched him shatter, too. His back bowed, every muscle on his body standing out in high relief as he strained, pouring himself into her as she pulsed around him, small tremors that made him jerk and gasp in response.
Finally, he stopped shaking and collapsed on top of her, holding most of his weight on his arms. He eased to the side, and they both made a small sound as he slipped from her body.
“Don’t go anywhere.” The look he gave her as he slid out of bed guaranteed she wouldn’t be moving a muscle, especially when the view was so fine. She watched him shuck the condom on the way to the bathroom, heard water running briefly, then he was back, crawling into bed with her and gathering her against him, hands still wet.
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She giggled. “I wasn’t going anywhere. You could have dried your hands.”
“Damn straight you aren’t going anywhere.” He pillowed his head on her breasts, sighing deeply.
A curious tenderness stole over her as she held him. He’d finally surrendered, and not only in body. The restlessness present in his every waking moment was gone, too. Roman was always focused on the next horizon, his tension so much a part of him she hadn’t consciously recognized it until he relaxed.
The Beach House renovations were done. When they returned from Vegas, Roman would move on to another project, and she would go home. Her arms tightened around him. Between now and then, she still needed to come up with a brilliant plan for Cooper’s. A flash caught her eye. The ring glowed, a bright sparkle tinged with blue, a glaring reminder that she only had a week.
“You know the best thing about working nights for the past few days?” His hand came up to cup her breast.
She had a feeling she knew where this was going, and she was only too happy to go there with him while there was still time.
He rolled on top of her. “I’m not tired at all.”
…
Roman twisted the bottle. The cork released with a soft hiss. He primed their glasses, then filled them to the rim and carried them out to the back deck where Jenna was curled up on a wicker double-chaise lounge. They had taken a shower, and she was wearing his robe, something he intended to remedy as soon as possible. He would have been happy to ignore his hunger and stay in bed with her indefinitely, but her growling stomach was another matter. He wanted to satisfy her in every way so she’d see how good it could be if she stayed with him. It was difficult to control the urge to bring up the subject, but right now she’d probably laugh and blame his enthusiasm on the great sex.
