by Jill Shalvis
The sommelier looked Eric over with hopeful curiosity. “Really?”
Eric, as confused as Em, nodded.
“Well…” The sommelier glanced down at the card in her hand, then back up into their faces. “You could come in, meet Chef. He’d have to approve this, of course, which, truthfully, he’s not likely to do. He doesn’t work with strangers,” she said, though her gaze turned bemused when she looked over at Em.
“Oh, we’re not strangers to Chef,” Liza said with a smile.
Em added her own weak smile. Nope, not strangers.
“Just a sec.” The sommelier shut the door.
Em turned to Liza. “What are you doing?”
“A favor for a favor. We do something for Chef, and then he’ll do something for us.”
“Liza, those are not equivalent favors!” Em cried. “One day of Eric’s services is not going to make Jacob come across the country—”
The kitchen door opened again, and there stood Jacob himself, looking tall, big, and gorgeously rumpled in his battered jeans and boots and a T-shirt that said Smile, It Confuses People.
“Em,” he said in surprise, for one brief beat his face unguarded, allowing her to see the pleasure before it was gone in a blink, carefully masked.
It made her sad to think that what they’d shared last night was going to be just a distant memory.
“Chef,” Liza purred. “Eric’s an amazing chef. He’s offering to help you out today.”
“Thank you,” he said. “But I don’t need—”
“It’s a Friday. We both know what this place is going to look like tonight, and that’s full to the gills. You can’t do it alone.”
Jacob looked at Eric. “You cook?”
“Yes.”
Jacob turned to Em. “What’s the catch?”
Em looked into his eyes and felt her throat tighten. He knew she was here for some reason, and not the goodness of her heart. All his life he’d had to scrap and fight to get by, nothing had ever been handed to him, not friendship, not love, nothing.
She wouldn’t do the same thing. She wouldn’t do this Nathan’s way. “No catch.”
He crossed his arms, disbelieving.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Coming here was a mistake.” And grabbing both Liza and Eric, she turned away.
“Wait.”
She went still, then turned back.
Gaze still inscrutable, he’d relaxed marginally, and she knew with a sudden clarity that he’d lied to her. Last night hadn’t been the norm for him, it had been just as special, just as amazing, as it had been for her.
And he’d pushed her away because of it. It had been his right to do so, and she understood it all too well.
“Help would be welcome,” he said, surprising her.
Eric shoved up his sleeves. “Just tell me where and what.”
Em nodded and took a step back to let Eric through. “Okay, then. Good luck tonight—”
“Where are you going?” Jacob asked.
“Out of your hair.”
Jacob rubbed his nearly hairless head. “No worries there.”
Em stared at him. “What are you saying?”
“I think he already said it,” Liza said, looking at Jacob as she rolled up her sleeves. “He needs help. From all of us.”
EM ENDED UP with a ponytail keeping her hair back and a white jacket over her clothes. But it was the knife in her hands concerning her as she contemplated a stack of vegetables that might as well have been Mt. Everest.
Jacob was moving around, lifting big pots, wielding equipment, working near the hot, open flame, mixing up something that smelled like heaven. Eric was on the other side of the kitchen at the open flame, smiling and joking with Pru, while Liza surreptitiously watched them from her corner, mouth grim.
They’d promised Jacob an hour of prep work. Correction. She and Liza had promised an hour. Eric would stay as long as Jacob was needed, the rest of the night if necessary, because, as he said, the experience would be fun.
From the range, Eric laughed at something Pru said.
Liza pretended not to notice.
Em wasn’t as good at pretending. Ignoring what had happened between her and Jacob last night, even for an hour, was beyond her, but she gave it the ol’ college try as she reached for a carrot and began slicing. How could he look at her and not remember?
Even as she thought it, Jacob glanced across the room at her, nothing showing on his face.
Was he thinking about what they’d been doing only a few hours before? How he’d touched her, kissed her? How when he’d been buried deep in her body he’d met her gaze and had been unable to tear his away?
Eric laughed again.
Liza set down her knife and walked toward them, a look of intent on her face.
Eric turned to her, smiling until he saw her expression. Then his changed, softened, filled with a look of such hope Em wanted to turn away, but she couldn’t.
At the look, Liza suddenly broke into a smile, as if Eric was her everything.
Eric returned it.
Pru moved away, and Eric gently touched Liza’s face, kissing her softly before going back to his station.
Liza brought her hand up to her lips, sighed, then went back to her station, as well.
And Em swallowed the inexplicable urge to cry.
“You trying to lose a finger?”
When she nearly jerked out of her skin, two arms reached around her, hands settling over hers. “Easy,” Jacob murmured.
Easy? Was he kidding? She could feel his warm, hard chest against her back, his heat, his strength. And she could smell him, some complicated mix of soap and man that was so intoxicating she felt dizzy. “What are we making?”
“Spicy Szechuan noodles with grilled Indonesian tiger prawns for the first course, snapper with tamarind-coconut sauce and bamboo rice for the main course. Then tempura bananas with caramel sauce for dessert.”
She didn’t even know what half of that was. “Sounds interesting.”
“Liar.”
Craning her neck, she looked up into his eyes. Despite the tension in his body, his eyes were smiling.
“Do you ever just make burgers?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“Burgers tonight would be good,” she said. “I could forgo chopping all these veggies.”
“Would you rather pick cilantro leaves for garnish?” he asked. “It’s easier. Or you could prep spinach leaves for salads.”
She’d had no idea how much work went into being a chef, the long hours, mostly on your feet, lifting heavy pots and pans, working near dangerous appliances at high temperatures. “I can handle this.”
“I bet you can.” His arms were still alongside hers, his hands guiding her fingers into the right position on the knife. “This way, Em, so you’ll keep all your fingers, see? Nothing wrong with your way, other than I don’t like blood in my kitchen.” He spoke casually, showing her exactly how he meant for it all to be done, making it look easy. And having him surround her like that was, well…nirvana. It brought it all back, what it had felt like to be skin-to-skin with him, face-to-face, sharing their bodies, and more. Wanting to see him, to gauge if he was feeling any of the overwhelming emotions she was, she tipped her head up to look at him.
His eyes were on the knife and the carrot but they swiveled to meet hers. “You going to watch what you’re doing? Or me?”
“You.”
His eyes swirled with heat. “Em.”
“The things you said to me this morning.” She took a quick peek at the others. No one was paying them the slightest bit of attention. “I don’t think you meant them.”
“I never say anything I don’t mean.”
“Jacob.” She pushed the carrots away and turned to face him directly. “We made love. We fell asleep together. And it was out of this world. I might not be all that experienced, but I know that much.” He didn’t say anything, and the first bits of doubt crept in. “Or I thought I knew tha
t much,” she muttered.
Beneath his breath, he swore. “You did know that much.” She just looked at him, and he swore again. “It was insane how perfect it was,” he said tightly. “How’s that?”
She felt the smile split her face.
With a groan at the sight, he grabbed the knife and started slicing without her, his hands and fingers moving so quickly and efficiently they were a blur. “It doesn’t matter, Em. It’s not going anywhere, you know that. You’re heading back to L.A., and I’m…”
“You’re what?”
“I’m not sure. I’m never sure.”
“Because you like to be free to walk when it suits you.”
“That’s right.” He finished the huge stack of carrots and started in on the celery.
“Because contracts, even short-term television contracts for huge amounts of money, don’t interest you any more than planning for the future interests you.”
He set down the knife. “Thank you for your help.”
She’d been dismissed. Well, didn’t that suit her. She turned away from him, and suddenly realized they were all alone. “Hey, where did everyone go?”
Equally bewildered, Jacob looked around. “You’re stressing out my kitchen.”
Em put her hands on her hips. “I’m stressing out your kitchen? Are you kidding me? You’re the one giving me heart failure—”
“When did I give you heart failure?”
She shook her head and bit her lip so the rest couldn’t come out.
He merely hauled her up on her toes and put them nose-to-nose. “Tell me.”
“Every time you made me come,” she whispered.
Still holding her, he stared at her. Annoyance faded, replaced by emotions that made her swallow hard.
“Is that right?” he asked in that silky voice that last night had driven her over the edge too many times to count.
“Yes.”
He set her down. His hands left her. “Flour,” he said.
“What?”
He gestured behind her, to what looked like a pantry door. “I need flour.”
She narrowed her eyes. Was this yet another test? Or his way of changing the subject?
He just waited.
Fine. She’d get him the damn flour. And then they’d talk. She opened the double doors. Inside were shelves stocked with cans and dry goods.
And Eric and Liza. Eric’s hair was wild from Liza’s fingers, his shirt gaping, his belt open. He had Liza backed to a shelf, one hand up her shirt, the other down her pants.
As Em’s mouth fell open, they jerked apart.
“Sorry,” Eric said.
Liza smiled apologetically. “Make-up sex…well, you know.”
No, Em didn’t know. But suddenly she wished she did.
Jacob shut the door.
“Oh, my,” she finally said.
Jacob looked into her hot face, then without a word, took her hand and pulled her back through the kitchen, down an employee hallway and through yet another door.
It was a beautiful room, quite obviously his office, with a black lacquer desk and matching shelving unit, and a large window looking out to the busy city.
A black cat sat on the desk, the cat from the elevator on her first day here. At the sight of them, she gave a soft “meow,” rubbed around each of their ankles, and began to purr.
Jacob scooped her up, scratched behind her ears, and then set her down outside the office door.
“Yours?” she asked.
“Eartha Kitty belongs to Piper, the owner of the hotel. Sort of a mascot.”
She tried a smile. “You have a nice view here.”
“I guess. I look at you and I can’t see anything else.”
The words stunned her. Thrilled her.
“Em, I want to finish what we started in the kitchen.”
“The fight?”
“We were discussing, not fighting. I believe you were telling me how it felt when I made you come—”
More heat flooded her body. “I don’t feel like talking about that anymore.”
“Really? Why’s that?”
“Um…” She broke off when he took a step toward her. She took one back, but came up against the windowsill. She gripped it tight at her sides to steady herself.
He arched a brow.
She returned the gesture. “Because,” she said, feeling immature as she crossed her arms.
And aware. Let’s not forget extremely aware.
“Because isn’t a complete sentence, or a reason,” he pointed out.
“I don’t feel like talking about it,” she repeated a little shakily when he slid his body to hers, sandwiching her between the sill and his hard form.
“So what do you feel like doing?” His voice was amused, but looking into his eyes, he was anything but.
She bit her lip harder this time. No more blurting anything out! There was no point to it, no point in hashing this out.
“Then maybe we shouldn’t talk at all,” he decided, and slid his muscled thigh between hers, bringing it up high, making all her happy spots zing to life. While she was still absorbing that, he slid his hands in her hair, tugged her face close and kissed her.
13
To: Concierge
From: Housekeeping
Room 1212 has left a request for a pack of batteries. Please make sure they’re AAs.
EM PULLED BACK from Jacob’s mind-blowing kiss. “Okay, maybe we should talk.” Before I let you take me right here on your desk. She wanted him, so much, but realized that scared or not, edgy or not, Jacob was nothing but heartache waiting to happen.
When he stroked a strand of hair from her face and then left his fingers cupping her cheek she squeezed her eyes shut. “Jacob—”
“I loved watching you.”
“Butchering the veggies?”
“When you came.”
Her eyes flew open.
He smiled wickedly. “You always seemed surprised, every single time. The sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, watching you let go.”
Just his words flooded heat in her veins. “Stop.”
“Why are you always so surprised, Em?”
Nope. Talking was a bad idea, too. No more talking, no more kissing. In fact, no more staring at him, either, because he looked so good….
She shut her eyes again.
He stroked his fingers down her throat, then over her collarbone, pushing her sweater out of his way as he went.
Her nipples hardened but she nibbled on her lip and didn’t make a sound.
“Haven’t you ever come with a man before?”
That got her. Her eyes flew open. She shoved his hand away. “You are so full of yourself.”
“Have you?” Undeterred, his hands took each of hers, bringing them around her back, holding them there low on her spine, which brought her entire front up against his.
“Yes, I’ve come with a man before.” His gaze was so deep, so real. How could it be that he could let her in like this, and yet not keep her in? “But not like with you,” she admitted. “Never like with you.”
“What made it different?” His voice was low, husky. Sweet.
Damn it, he was sucking her right back in. “Are you sure you want to hear this?” she asked, and saw the truth. No, he didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t want to know any of it, but he was as deeply shaken as she. And listening to her was the only chance he had of understanding.
Her own understanding nearly rose up and choked her. God, he was something, all confident and sexy as long as things were on his terms, in his comfort zone.
But as he had with her, she, too, had taken him beyond comfort, and the expression behind his eyes opened her heart and made it bleed. “You make it different,” she whispered. “There’s something about you. About how I feel when I’m with you. There’s something between us that I can’t resist, even if you can. You take me out of myself, Jacob, whether we’re laughing, talking, or making love. And because of that, you make me feel more th
an I ever have. An orgasm with you suddenly isn’t this tiny little ping I have to strive so hard for. It’s like…”
“What?” he whispered.
“Like the Fourth of July. A full fireworks display.” She looked into his eyes and saw the acknowledgement, that he felt the same. “It involves so much more than just our body parts. For me, it involves my heart.”
“Your two friends,” he said. “Is it this way for them?”
“I think so.”
“Seeing them like that made you hot.”
And she wasn’t the only one. She could feel him, heavy and hard against her. “They belong together, they have an undeniable connection. It makes me want such a thing for myself.”
His eyes grew dark, if that was even possible. “I can give you a connection.” Banding his arm around her, he lifted her. He sat her on the sill, then stepped between her legs.
“Jacob—”
“I want you again, Em. I can’t think with all this wanting.”
It melted her, and in spite of herself, she tilted her face up for his kiss, sighing as he met her more than halfway, leaning in, pressing his body flush to hers.
“I keep remembering last night,” she murmured when he took little bites out of her on his way over her throat. “How good it felt…”
“If I say I can’t remember, can we do it again?”
She let out a laugh—that backed up in her throat when he tugged her sweater down and exposed her bra, its front hook posing no problem for him. He just crouched in front of her, clicked the bra open, then let out a low breath of desire when her breasts popped free. Carefully, gently, he ran his stubbled cheek over one.
Her nipples puckered into a tight knot, wrenching another sound from Jacob’s throat. “You are so beautiful, Em.”
“Thank you, but I’m not sure—”
He sucked her nipple hard into his mouth and her thoughts skittered right out of her head.
