“That’s right,” Hannah responds. “I remember we were having dinner somewhere last fall, and you said something like if they had tiramisu on their menu, you’d up and leave.”
From my peripheral vision, I see Teresa lowering her head. “I decided it deserves a second chance.”
“Hallelujah! Really, I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. It even smells divine.”
“The presentation is beautifully done, Josh,” Teresa says softly. “Very elegant.”
Seems like she’s sticking around for another while. “Thanks.”
She twists her lips, looking a bit sad. “It makes my tiramisu look plain and boorish.”
“Rustic,” I correct with a smile.
“Same difference.”
“This one is yours if you want it,” I say in a whim, hoping she doesn’t take it the wrong way. I already feel as though I banged up her self-esteem as a professional cook.
She cocks her head. “Are you saying you’re giving me your recipe?”
“Yeah, if you like it. This dessert has your name on it anyway. I have no desire whatsoever to put this on my own menu. Make it yours, give it your own twist.”
“Ladies...” Ed, who’s also our sommelier, interrupts our conversation. He’s showing us the label of a dessert wine, and I’m curious about his choice. “For your last sweet course I chose a Vin Santo. Josh had me sweating there for a moment since this dessert isn’t something he typically makes, but I think this highly sweet dessert wine from Tuscany pairs wonderfully well with the coffee element of the tiramisu.”
My eye catches Teresa’s hand lying loosely on top of her thigh, and, aching with the need to touch her, I slip my fingers around it and squeeze. She lowers her gaze at our entwined hands, then looks up, and I wink subtly, which she answers with a small but sweet smile.
And then something strange happens.
I feel butterflies.
Fucking butterflies! I’m such a loser; a freaking teen with a hormone rush.
“... it’s delicate and intense at the same time,” Ed goes on.
“Ooh, me likey,” Lola utters, a little off her face I’m afraid. I would be too if my fiancé wouldn’t care about the cake tasting. I probably wouldn’t care showing up at the altar.
Ed pours the wine into their glasses. Hannah passes as she offered to be the designated driver. “You want a glass too, Josh?”
I clear my throat. “Please, Ed, go ahead,” I say with a nod, freeing Teresa’s soft hand so she can eat her dessert. Hannah is eyeing me with a cocked brow, which I simply choose to ignore.
When every last crumb is eaten, fingers licked, and glasses emptied, Hannah puts her napkin on the table and rises. “That was lovely, Josh. Thank you. Come on, Lola,” she says energetically as she grabs her bag. “We need to leave now if we don’t want to get stuck in traffic.”
I smile, shaking my head as I see what’s she’s doing. I’ll thank her later. “No more coffee?” I ask nonetheless, not entirely sure if I want to stay behind with Teresa.
“Well,” Lola says, “since you’re offering, I–”
“We’d explode if we did,” Hannah quickly interrupts. “Time to head off. I need to pick up Harley anyway. I just remember Tristan had plans.” She walks around the table and kisses Teresa goodbye. “It was nice meeting you, Tess. I’ll recommend your cake to others.”
“Thanks so much, Hannah. It was great meeting you too. And good luck on your new book.”
“I’ll send you a copy.”
I hug my cousins. “Thanks for all the feedbacks, girls. Give my best to Abel and Ash.” I turn to Lola. “Tell Ash I have a bone to settle with him.”
“Let it rest, Josh,” she says softly. “I can handle him myself.”
“Than fucking handle him, okay?” I whisper. “He should have been here today. He has no excuse, unless he’s in the hospital for a rectal examination, or when VIC’s under attack, which I doubt.” Although… Mac had better not be talking to him about our extortion letters. Not that I don’t trust the guy, though I’ll never be as close to him as I am to Mac and Tristan. I know he’s VIC’s security manager, but if he starts investigating, and this criminal gets wind of it, my mother’s suicide note may very well end up in the newspaper. And it’s not only me; I have to think about Jaz as well, who won’t be home in another couple months.
“I appreciate your concern, Josh, but really, it’s okay.”
“Just wanna see you happy.”
“Back atcha.”
As Ed escorts Lola and Hannah out of the kitchen, I turn to Teresa.
“I should probably go too,” she announces, tugging at her dress. “Thank you for this experience, Josh. You’re an amazing chef.”
We fall silent for a moment, and then I say, “I want to be alone with you.”
Teresa glances around.
“No one’s listening.”
She gazes back at me with those amazing intense eyes. “I don’t know if…” she says, then pauses, and releases a staggered breath. “I want that too, Josh.”
Her forthrightness makes my gut tighten and my dick throb. “Follow me.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
joshua
I’m doing the one thing I swore I’d never do as a professional chef; I’m taking a woman I’d like to fuck into the dry goods area. Not that I’m planning to take her all the way with the kitchen brigade in the vicinity, but sucking that bottom lip would be a great way to start things off.
I open the door and show her in, inhaling her scent as she walks past me. Wood meets flowers; works for me. I close the door, but leave it unlocked, then place my hand on the small of her back, and guide her to the back and then to the left, right into the heart of the pastry section. “Check it out,” I say, leaning back against the wall as I cross my arms.
With a smile, she studies the various products on the shelves and picks up a bar of Belgian chocolate. “Did you use this chocolate for the tiramisu?”
“Yes,” I say as my eyes travel over her curvy figure. She’s showing a little leg just below and above her knees. Great legs if you ask me. She’s petite and curvy, and I’m starting to like it more and more.
“It was lovely.” She places it back and moves on to the next product, touches it, and studies its label.
“Did I succeed?”
“In what? Making great food?” she asks as she keeps reading labels. “You know you’re good.”
“In blowing your mind?”
“Yeah, the first time you stepped inside my restaurant.” She casts a look over her shoulder, and moves her brows rapidly. “You were right. I was checking you out.”
I try to keep it together as she turns her back to the shelf. With a sexy feminine saunter, she closes the space between us, her eyes trained on my mouth. She stops a foot away. “Shocked by my revelation?” she asks sweetly.
“No. I told you I’m not that easily embarrassed, nor shocked.”
“Good to know.” She traces her index and middle finger over my compass tattoo. “What’s the compass stand for? Got lost at sea?”
The light touch of her finger pads on my forearm tickles the hairs on my skin and sends shivers up and down my spine. So does her question. I never like being questioned about the symbols on my body. Too personal. Too close.
“That’s personal,” I say as I check out an uneven scar running right through her left eyebrow. There’s no hair growing on the tissue. I didn’t see it before. It’s the one imperfection on otherwise flawless skin, and it’s intriguing the hell out of me; but can’t ask her about it if I won’t open up myself.
“I’m sorry,” she says softly, then removes her fingers and tilts up her head. “I’m right where you wanted me when we first met. What happens next, Josh?”
“The way I see it we have two options,” I point out, swallowing heavy. “We leave through that door, you go to your restaurant, I go to mine, and we’ll be good neighbors. Or we keep standing here, staring into each other’s eyes until
we go batshit crazy and see where it goes. I’ll let you decide.”
“I’m perfectly fine with that last option, because I happen to like staring at you,” she says hoarsely.
“Great,” I reply without moving an inch as I continue looking down at her, “because I just discovered it turns me on when your eyes are on me. Like just now when you were eating my food.”
My stomach is doing somersaults, my heart is hammering against my chest, and my whole body is craving hers. I settle for her mouth for now, and allow my gaze to wander to her lips as my fingers slide underneath her hair and behind her neck.
“Let’s get this thing between us out of the way,” she whispers as I pull her softly to me. She fits nicely on my chest.
“If you think this is a one-time execution, then you’re deluding yourself,” I say as I bend down to gently brush her perfect rosy lips with mine. I’m finally about to discover whether they taste as good as they look.
I capture her bottom lip with mine, and our lips and teeth toy around for a while, a sweet, sensual prelude of what’s to come, but when our breathing grows heavier, I can’t hold back anymore, and weave my fingers through her hair and cradle her head with my hands. I force my tongue between the small opening of her lips, and explore the depths of her hot, wet mouth.
Teresa grasps my arms as if to steady herself, and releases a sexy whimper that makes my cock swell even more. As we deepen the kiss, I lose all track of time and place, and become lost in our intimate embrace – in her.
She tastes exactly like I thought she would; like a sweet sun-ripened cherry picked right from the tree. And I don’t know if it’s because I’m fucking aroused, or if it’s the thrill of the moment, but kissing never was this hot, nor ever tasted this good.
I pull back a few inches, aching with the need to look into her eyes as she releases a shuddering breath. Her pupils widen, telling me she’s just as aroused as I am, and her expression is one of bewilderment. Hell, I’m bewildered too. “Teresa,” I whisper.
“You can call me Tess.”
My mouth quirks up at the corner as my fingers knead the flesh on the back of her neck.
“You always invite women into your stockroom after you feed them?” she asks, licking her lips.
“No, this is a first,” I pant, smiling. “I don’t tolerate this kind of behavior.”
“It’s a good thing you’re the boss then.”
“I guess it is, because you taste like fucking heaven.”
I grab her by her waist, turn her around, and push her up against the wall as my mouth smashes down on her, on the hunt again for that sweet flavor of her hot mouth and velvet tongue.
I moan when she pulls my hair. I let go of her hips, and let my hands creep upwards. Her tits fill up my palms nicely. Her nipples pucker beneath the thin fabric of her dress, and I flick my thumbs around the hardened nubs as she arches her back, moaning softly. Her teeth clamp into my lower lip as I tilt my hips and grind into her sensitive spot.
“Josh…” she utters.
“Yeah, baby?”
“Knowing you were preparing my lunch was a huge turn on too, just so you know.”
“Did it make you wet?” I rasp.
She shrugs one shoulder, biting her bottom lip. Fuck, but I want to find out if she’s wet, but this is not the time or the place. I want her in my bed, between my sheets to discover every inch of her delectable body, and then fuck her until we both collapse from exhaustion.
I pull back as I slowly regain my senses. “We need to stop this while we’re still able, Tess,” I say softly as my knuckles trail down her cheek. “Or else I’ll forget where we are, and make you mine between the dry goods.”
She shoves her hands into her hair. “Madre mia... what just happened?”
I shake my head as I step back, releasing her body. “I have no idea. Blame it on temporary insanity, or Ed’s Vin Santo.”
I put my hand in my jeans and adjust my dick in an attempt to hide my erection, and Tess stifles a laugh by putting her hand on her mouth. “You’re fine. Your jacket covers most of the crotch area.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Better than that, actually,” she says, adjusting her dress.
“Good. Me too. Let’s get the fuck outta here.”
As we walk toward the exit between the shelves, she suddenly stops and grabs a chocolate bar from the shelf. I shake my head, smiling. “All you have to do is ask,” I joke.
“This bar will make the walk of shame a little less shameful,” she says with a naughty grin.
“Your rosy cheeks will betray you,” I tease.
“That’s because your sommelier couldn’t stop pouring wine,” she counters, winking.
We walk out of the stockroom, and apart from a few glances from the line cooks, no one seems to notice us.
“Thanks for the chocolate, Josh,” Tess says loudly, attracting unwanted attention. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“No problem,” I say, grinning. “Just make that dessert rock.”
“Oh, I’m inspired. Bye, Donna. Thank you for taking care of us. It was amazing.”
“You’re welcome, Teresa,” Donna says, gazing to the side. “See you around.”
“I’ll show her out,” I tell Donna, “and then I’ll be right back.”
“Sure.”
I open the door of the restaurant and follow Tess outside. “I wanna see you tonight, Tess,” I say as I shove my hands into my pockets. It’s safer to put them away.
“I can’t. I’m already seeing someone else.”
“Yeah?” I smile. “He’d better be your brother then.”
“He is,” she reassures me. “I would have canceled on every other man.”
“Good to know.”
She holds up the bar of chocolate. “Thanks for the Belgian chocolate.”
I wink. “Thanks for the kiss.”
“Thanks for the seven-course lunch.”
I suddenly cradle her face and press my lips hard on her mouth, still swollen from our kiss. “Thanks for moving to Portsmouth.” Whoa… where the fuck did that came from?
“You’re welcome, chef,” she says, then crosses the street, turns around, and flashes me one more gorgeous smile.
Yeah, a woman for the win, I think as I raise my hand and wave her goodbye.
“Josh, a moment,” Ed calls when I step back inside. “I have a phone call for you.”
“Who is it?”
“A woman. She didn’t give me her name, but she wants to talk to you. I have her on hold.”
“I’ll take it in my office. Put her through.”
I pick up the phone. “Joshua Vandenberg.”
“Joshua, this is Sharon,” a bright voice says. “Sharon Mills. I used to be friends with your mother.”
Holy shit…
Yesterday, I came across a woman named Sharon on Facebook, who fit the description of my mother’s yoga friend. She practices yoga, lived in India, and more or less the same age my mother would be if she were still alive. I thought it was a long shot, but sent her an email anyway. I just can’t believe it’s a hit.
Astonished, I lower myself in my office chair as I remove the bandana. “Hello, Sharon. Thank you for calling me.”
“No problem, Joshua. How can I help you?”
“Well,” I say, clearing my throat. Her voice sounds sympathetic, making it easier to open up. “I was wondering if we could meet sometime. I recently discovered something about my mother and now... now I guess I want to know more.”
“I understand,” she says friendly. “And I think I can help you with that, but I’m not sure if I can answer all of your questions.”
“Anything you can tell me about her would be of great help.”
“Then let’s meet.”
“I saw you live in Suffolk County on Long Island. Can I visit you?”
“That would be great, Joshua. Saturday afternoon would suit me.”
“Perfect, I’ll be there.” I grab a pen and write
her address on the palm of my hand. “Thanks, Sharon. We’ll meet Saturday.”
As I saunter back into the kitchen, Donna’s eyes shoot daggers at me. “Everything okay in here?”
“You couldn’t have acted more quickly, could you?”
I cock my head. “Excuse me?”
“First you show her around in the stockroom, and then I see you kissing her outside. So did all of the guests. I’m just saying you move fast.”
I release a quick breath. “Okay, come with me.” I take her into my office, because I don’t feel like doing this in front of the others. “Take a seat.” I sit down on my desk and cross my arms. “What’s wrong?”
Donna sits down and tucks her hands between her legs. I can tell she’s nervous.
“I noticed you’re distracted lately. It’s basic kitchen safety to pay attention to what you’re doing. You didn’t turn a pot handle away from the front of the stove the other day.”
“Yeah, I’ve things on my mind. No one got hurt, and it won’t happen again. Is that all?”
“Are you sleeping with her?” She doesn’t even blink.
“You really think that’s any of your business?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“We’re friends, right?”
“Right, but we’re colleagues in the first place.”
“So, we’re friends when it suits you? When you’re too jacked up to show up at work and need me to handle things so you can sober up?”
I stare at her with growing amazement. Did she just call me a fucking drunk? I’m a heavy drinker, yeah, but so is everyone else working in the restaurant industry if not doped up. When it comes to stressful jobs, this is one of them. It’s a multitasking nightmare, especially when you have two stars to maintain. That said, she knows about my mother and that my family fell apart when she left us – or killed herself – and that Christmastime is especially hard on me.
“What’s really bothering you? Because I swear if you don’t tell me, you can get your knives and let yourself out. I can take a lot of shit from a lot of people, but if they start calling me a drunk, I’m quickly finished with them.”
Joshua Page 8
