Cooking Up A Seduction

by Jenna Bayley-Burke

“There’s no need. We’re a team, Diego. You make the food taste good, I make it look good. I handle the logistics, you deal with the operations. We compliment each other perfectly. I don’t want to draw a line down the middle with what is yours and what is mine. We’ll both do what we’re good at.”

  “So we’re partners?” One dark eyebrow rose.

  “If we can convince my mother to bankroll us.”

  Eleven

  Home sweet home. Cameron dropped his bags to the floor of his New York apartment with a thud. His oasis of order wasn’t half as welcoming as he hoped.

  Business meetings, site visits, client lunches, and too many hours in airports and airplanes had left him exhausted. Opening the closet, he hung his coat on a hanger and turned to look about the room. Exactly as he left it. Nothing had changed, except for everything.

  Dropping into the sage green love seat, he sank into its lush depths and leaned back, toeing off his shoes and running his hands over his face. He’d barely slept in almost a week. He’d been working hard, but what made him restless were the damned Christmas trees everywhere he went.

  He pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled through the calls he’d missed since hopping on the plane this afternoon in San Francisco. Thankfully there were no messages from work. Most everyone must already be gone for Thanksgiving. The call from his parents in Hawaii must have to do with the holiday, too.

  He needed a day to catch up on work, and Thanksgiving provided the perfect escape from the chaos. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He stood up and stretched, wondering if he had anything left in his freezer.

  The buzz of the intercom stopped him half way to the kitchen. “Cam, are you home yet?”

  He groaned at the sound of his cousin’s voice. He’d talked to his parents last night, who probably sent Jeremy to check on him.

  “Cam? If you’re there, buzz me up.”

  He walked to the intercom and jammed his thumb against the button in frustration. He needed to eat, sleep, and catch up on reading proposals. In that order. Not get suckered into a happy family holiday at his aunt’s house tomorrow. Which must be Jeremy’s mission.

  Cameron opened the door, leaving it ajar while he combed through his kitchen for something to quiet his stomach. He’d give anything for a box of the muffins Lauren put him on the plane with four days ago. Instead he found a couple frozen pocket meals. The microwave hummed to life, his dinner rotating on the glass turntable.

  “You look like shit. Who did that to your hair?”

  Cameron didn’t turn at the sound of Jeremy’s voice. His cousin never failed to comment on how short he kept his hair.

  “Dude, what’s with you?” Jeremy crossed into the kitchen, leaning his dirty jean clad-hip against the granite counter.

  “Take off your work boots. They’re filthy.” He kept his gaze firmly on the microwave.

  “Man, lighten up. Let’s go for a beer.”

  “I’m tired, Jer. Long week.”

  “Actually, it’s a short week, with a holiday tomorrow.”

  “I’m not going to Aunt Dena’s.”

  “Come on, I can’t go if you don’t go.”

  “How’s that?” The microwave dinged. Cameron pulled down a plate and set the two steaming pockets on it.

  “Mom said I had to bring you. Period.” Jeremy opened the fridge, pulling out two cans.

  What do you know? He still had beer. “I’m going to stay here and get caught up for my meetings on Friday.”

  “You financial freaks work the day after Thanksgiving? What a bunch of noobs.” Jeremy traded a pocket meal for a beer and marched into the living room. Cameron followed, shaking his head when Jeremy plopped on the sofa and hoisted his heavy work boots onto the glass coffee table.

  “How is it you’re gay, and I’m the one constantly reminding you to take off your damned muddy shoes?”

  “You’re such a bitch.” Jeremy chucked his boots at the front door. “Who’s got you by the balls?”

  Cameron launched into a detailed explanation sure to bore his cousin into a coma. It felt good to recap the last week, helped to put everything in perspective.

  “It’s a woman, isn’t it?”

  “Have you heard a word I said? One of our main investors filed bankruptcy, so I –”

  “I heard you, Cam. But I know you. This work garbage doesn’t faze you. But women – one gets into your head and you’re wrecked.”

  Before he could extol what an idiot Jeremy was, his cell phone buzzed to life. Thankful for the reprieve, Cameron answered without looking at the display.

  “I’ve missed you.” The suggestive voice purred through the phone.

  Damn. Melinda Kramer. “How’s Rob?”

  “We broke up, sad story for another time. I heard you’ll be back in town. When can I see you?”

  “I’m busy, Mel.” His conscience laughed at him. He and the sexy investment banker had a standing agreement to have sex, just sex, and nothing but sex whenever they were both unattached. An arrangement that had suited them well.

  “I’ve been thinking about you for weeks. Imagine my disappointment when I found you’d moved to Seattle. But now you’re here, and I’m here. And we are so good together.”

  “I have plans with my family.” He turned so he wouldn’t have to see Jeremy’s smug smile of victory.

  “I’ll work around that. I could come over right now. In an hour we could be sweaty and satisfied.”

  Best to nip this in the bud before it turned into phone sex, a favorite of Melinda’s. “I’m with someone.”

  Her laugh was low and sinister. “You must be joking. You let some gold digger get her hooks into you?”

  “Goodbye, Mel.”

  “Cameron, wait. We’ve always been discreet. And the rule about not seeing other people was yours, not mine. I don’t care who you do in Seattle, as long as you do me in New York.”

  “Have a nice life, Mel.” Cameron powered off the phone and turned, the look on Jeremy’s face making him cringe.

  “I hope you’re really with someone because that viper will find out if you lies and track you down.”

  “Her name is Lauren.” He turned on the television, looking for a game to distract them both.

  “Fine, you’re seeing someone. Have you told her?”

  “You just heard me tell Melinda.”

  “No. Have you told Lauren what happened the last time you were engaged?”

  Lauren stared at the bright red folders in her hands. She’d poured every moment of the last few days into creating a business proposal to sway any investor. Budgets, menus, market research, timelines – everything mapped out except how her mother would react knowing she planned on focusing on business and not her relationship. Non-relationship. Whatever.

  With a sigh she rocked back on her heels and looked up at the door. Her mother believed a woman should stand behind the man, let her passions slide so his could shine. Cameron Price was successful enough to expect the same thing. She needed this to be there for her when he decided he wasn’t interested anymore.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you nervous before.” Diego stood next to her, holding a bouquet of brightly colored flowers.

  She’d never needed something this bad. Even starting Come For Dinner, she’d known if she failed she’d get past it. But getting past Cameron Price would take more of a safety net than her mother could provide. Only success was big enough to hide a heartache as big as that man was sure to deliver.

  “Lauren, let’s go in.”

  “Knock first.” She swallowed, trying to buy more time. Her mother would see right through her.

  “You knock at your Mom’s house?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “No. And my mother lives in another country.”

  “Fine.” Tucking the folders beneath her arm, Lauren reached into her lime-green handbag and gasped as her hand clutched her keys. The bag. Her mother would know she’d had retail therapy
.

  “What’s with you?”

  Think fast, Lauren. Never let anyone see you in a cold panic. “We should’ve brought dinner. A few of the prepared meals to give her an idea of what we have in mind.”

  “We should have brought casseroles. To Thanksgiving dinner with your mother? You know you sound crazy, right?”

  “Right.” Lauren nodded her head emphatically and slid the key in the lock. She needed to get a grip if she had any hope of her mother seeing this for the great opportunity it was.

  The warm smell of roasting turkey and garlic butter wafted through the air as they stepped inside the house, stirring her confidence. Emma Brody loved food, loved creating meals for people. She’d passed that love on to her daughter. Of course she’d want to spread it around.

  “Mom? Where are you?” She opened the coat closet and hung up their coats, soft jazz music floating through the house.

  “Just a minute, baby.” Emma called from upstairs. Upstairs? She never went upstairs alone.

  After a few quick seconds her mother appeared at the top of the stairway, a picture of modern elegance. Slimming straight-leg black leather pants and a black cowl neck sweater with sparkling metallic silver accents that set off the highlights in her gray hair.

  “You look amazing.” Lauren ran a hand over her cocoa and camel layered tissue tees and jeans and wished she’d remembered they used to dress for dinner.

  “You look lovely, Mrs. Brody.” Diego smiled in his flat front black slacks and black button down. Even he thought to dress up.

  “Diego please, it’s Emma.” She descended the stairs with grace Lauren wished she’d inherited. “You’re family to us. Let’s go to the dining room. Anne and Michael are already there.”

  Lauren froze as her mother linked their arms. “You invited my staff? I thought it was just us. I wanted to discuss something with you.”

  “Anne works here too, remember? She’s helped with the house since we bought it. And if it weren’t for Michael, we’d both be under water from all the plumbing emergencies he’s saved us from.” Emma gave her perfect hostess smile. “I know you wanted to discuss something, but since you invited Diego I assumed it wasn’t private.”

  “It is.” Just what she needed, to face the fear of rejection in front of the people she worked with every day.

  “Lauren, everyone knows about your business proposal. It’s a great idea. We’ll brainstorm over dinner. Unless what you need to talk about is more personal?”

  “No.” She shook her head and opted to go with the flow. Can’t fight fate, or Emma Brody.

  “I wish Cameron could be here.” Their arms locked, Emma pulled Lauren through the hall, Diego following closely behind. “I’d love to hear his opinions about your new venture.”

  Here it comes. “He’s in New York on business. He travels quite a bit.” So he won’t take nearly as much of my time as you think he should. She barely resisted the urge to stick out her tongue. She could do both, be the trophy and the career woman. At least for a while.

  “He has a wonderful reputation for spotting new ventures. The finance community is quite taken with him already.”

  “Have you been asking about him?”

  “Of course.”

  Arriving in the dining room, Lauren couldn’t believe her eyes. The room had been completely redone. Twinkle lights sparkled from the two chandeliers, soft metallic fabrics draped the windows and doorway, small bouquets of white flowers sat on round mirrors down the center of the table, all giving the effect of a perfect winter evening.

  “This is amazing, Mom.” The decorations and the change in her, in the house. For so long empty and shut off, suddenly warm and inviting, surrounded by people. The way she remembered.

  “I’m glad you like it. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed entertaining until I saw the mirrors at the candle shop, and it all came together in my head.”

  “You went to a candle shop?” Lauren looked about the room, for the first time seeing the crystal candlesticks and silver tapers along the sideboard behind where Anne and her husband Michael sat.

  “Malta Volk called to tell me what a wonderful job you did with the dinner at Cameron’s last week, and she told me about this new place she’s in love with. She said he’s very handsome, by the way. I need to see for myself.”

  Not the subtlest of hints, but Lauren got the message. If Saturday went as she hoped, she’d have Cameron meet her mother. If not, they’d stage an elaborate break up scene at a party. She could only lie to her mother for so long.

  Every spectacular dish on the Thanksgiving table tightened the knot of guilt. She and Diego took the last two seats left. While the crew of Come For Dinner slaved away preparing traditional Thanksgiving fare for clients who no doubt passed it off as their own, a meal of restaurant quality had been prepared in their honor.

  Brie stuffed turkey breast, roasted red potatoes, broiled asparagus with garlic butter, and a delicate spinach salad with pomegranate seeds. The way the group talked over the proposal made the evening perfect, coming up with new and exciting ideas to set their venture apart. She’d never been more confident in the success of the project than when she waved goodbye to the guests and retreated to the large tiled kitchen to help her mother clean up.

  Emma wiped down the counters as Lauren entered the room. She looked up with a sad smile. “You want to tell me something?”

  “I think we covered everything but the legalities. Thank you again for backing our idea. Your support means everything.”

  Emma set the towel on the clean counter and leaned against it. “What am I supporting, Lauren? Defensive planning? Trying to make sure you can justify working too much because you have a new project in the works? Are you trying to sabotage your relationship? Or has it crashed already?”

  “Mom, Cameron and I are complicated.” The guilt threatened to poison her. What did it matter if one person knew?

  “Are you in love with him, baby?”

  “Yes.” At least that wasn’t a lie. She knew better than to be in love with him, but the heart wants what it wants.

  “Then why would you want to start a new business now, when you should be focused on starting a new life with him?”

  How did one explain the man you were in love with had no intention of actually falling in love with you?

  Lingerie made Lauren nervous. Before opening her underwear drawer this morning, she’d thought she had a decent collection of panties and pajamas. Sure, her nightgowns were trimmed with lace and in pretty colors, but they were knit jersey. All of them. Even her bras were boring, breathable, seamless.

  She needed something that said, Don’t you dare look away. Crossing the shopping center parking lot, she centered herself before entering the lingerie store. Women of all shapes and sizes milled around inside. Mannequins struck suggestive poses.

  She set her jaw against the blush creeping up her shoulders. She was not a prude, damn it. She’d had sex before. The night of her father and brother’s funeral with the man she thought she’d marry and build a life around. A man who soon let it be known his sexual appetites were not something she could fulfill alone.

  Running away to Europe that summer to hide from her broken engagement, she’d had a drunken fling with an Italian who spoke no English. He made her realize why women raved about sex. She’d needed that affair to remind herself she was desirable, and to teach her what sex could be. Pleasurable sure, but ultimately unfulfilling without an emotional connection.

  A connection she had with Cameron, whether he reciprocated the sentiment or not. With a grin she approached the racks, fingering through the selections and trying to picture herself actually wearing a red silk georgette babydoll that wouldn’t even cover the matching thong embroidered with sequins and beads. Not her style, and yet she lifted the hanger from the rack and kept looking.

  More outfits accumulated on her arm as she indulged her inner vixen. She’d spent every spare moment the past week designing the perfect seduction scen
e. Might as well reward them both for her labors. And if he held out on her again? Well, let him see a collection of all he missed out on hanging in his closet.

  Feeling every bit the seductress, she paid for her purchases, swinging the bags from her fingers as she tried not to skip to the car.

  Halfway across the parking lot her cell phone began to buzz. Balancing the bags in one hand, she dug it out of her handbag. The number on the display had a New York area code. Hope swelled in her chest. She hadn’t heard a word from him all week.

  “Cameron?”

  “No, Lauren,” a woman’s voice purred. “But we need to talk about Cameron.”

  Twelve

  The house looked ominous in the evening twilight. Cameron hoped like hell Lauren had gotten his message about a later flight and having a town car to take him home. The soft sounds of Vivaldi greeted him as he opened the front door. He set his bags by the door and crept through the house, soaking up the changes.

  The white furniture remained in the living room, but the walls were now a rich chocolate brown. A warm beige enveloped the dining room, crimson candles flickering on the table. The leafy plants in the silver pots were back, transforming the rooms from house to home.

  He slid off his shoes and socks, digging his toes into the plush chenille rugs lining the hallway. Knowing Lauren was here, had done all this while thinking of him, caused a sudden surge of lust to charge through him.

  He walked down the hall, pushing open the kitchen door. His jaw dropped at the sight before him. Lauren, wearing the sexiest dress he’d ever seen. Not that it was a dress really. At least not one he could handle her wearing in public. The sides of the midnight silk gown laced up like a corset, playing peek-a-boo with her curves. The front of the gown dipped dangerously low. With the low front and non-existent sides, he became painfully aware she wore nothing beneath it.

  The unashamed honesty of her desire bewildered him. He felt it too, the chemistry electric in the room whenever they were together. He’d been clear he couldn’t go deeper than a simple affair. She knew, and yet she courageously stepped into the flames for a chance to play with fire.