Eat, Play, Lust (Entangled Flirts) (4 page)

“Fat pig,” he repeated, trying to understand. “What are you talking about? And why would I care what you eat? Unless you’re a cannibal who’s circling me with a knife and fork, it’s none of my business.”

She bit her lip, her expression still weirdly tormented. She sighed and shook her head. “They’re my dirty little secret.” Her voice was almost a whisper.

“Tater Tots?”

“Yes. My guilty pleasure.”

“Frozen tots,” he repeated. “Of the tater variety.”

She nodded, her face flushed.

“Cami,” he said.

“What?”

He took a step toward her. “If that’s your dirtiest, guiltiest secret, you really need to get out more.”

Cami bit her lip and looked at the tots. Her arms were still folded tightly over her chest and Paul wanted to pry them apart and pull her body against him. He wasn’t sure what was going on with her, but clearly, she had a few food issues.

Paul could relate.

“They aren’t healthy,” Cami said.

“Great food sometimes isn’t.”

She snorted. “Tater Tots are hardly great food. They’re full of calories and preservatives and trans-fats.”

Paul snatched a tot off the tray and split it in half, gently blowing on it as Cami continued her lecture.

“They’re full of carbohydrates, and do you know how many grams of sodium are in each—”

Paul popped half a tot into her mouth. “Chew.”

Cami’s eyes were wide with surprise, but she obeyed. Her expression morphed from alarm to pure, unadulterated bliss. The muscles in her jaws flexed and clenched as Paul studied those beautiful cheekbones. Her long lashes fluttered as she swallowed and blinked at him.

Something twisted in his gut.

“Now the other half,” he said, and slid it into her mouth. “And I’m going to keep feeding these to you one-by-one until you stop yammering on about healthy eating and just enjoy the goddamn food.”

She chewed the Tater Tot and eyed him with something halfway between nervous energy and ecstasy. She glanced at the tray beside her, still loaded with steaming tots. She swallowed the second mouthful and shook her head.

“This is wrong,” she said. “I should be setting a good, healthful example, and you should be telling me to eat classier, nutritious food.”

“You have a lot of shoulds in your life, don’t you?”

“You have no idea.”

Paul grabbed another tot off the tray. “Want it?”

She shook her head.

Paul popped the Tater Tot into his own mouth and devoured it. “I see what all the fuss is about. These are delicious.” He grabbed another one and took a step closer. He held it close to her face, brushing her lips softly with the hot, crisp coating. “Now you want it?”

Cami reached for his wrist and tried circling it with her fingers, but her hands were too small. She grinned up at him—the first time she’d smiled since their feeding foreplay began.

“I want it,” she said, her eyes flickering to his with hunger and something that looked a lot like lust.

“You can have it,” he said, and offered her the Tater Tot, but she shook her head.

Surprised, he tried to draw his hand back, but Cami kept her grip on his wrist, then gave him a coy smile and parted her lips. Touching her tongue to his fingertip, she slowly drew his index finger deep into her mouth.

Paul gasped as Cami ran her tongue along the underside of his finger, making him mindless with gentle sucking pressure of the most exquisite mouth he’d ever experienced.

When she pulled back at last, they were both breathing heavy.

“More,” Cami said, and lunged for him.

Chapter Three

Cami wasn’t sure what got into her, but it was more than just the Tater Tots. As her lips found Paul’s, she felt a surge of something that went way beyond food lust.

She wanted him.
Badly.

Solid as he was, she was surprised to feel him stagger backward when she threw herself against him.

“Ooof!” he said as Cami pushed him into the counter. He smiled against her mouth. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

Cami felt a flicker of insecurity—had she gone too far?—but Paul didn’t give her a chance to go down that path.

“I love surprises,” he said, and kissed her hard.

“Good,” Cami said, and kissed him back.

His mouth was hot against hers, and he tasted like salt and cinnamon gum. She’d expected his beard to prickle, but it was surprisingly soft against her lips. She rubbed her cheek on his, enjoying the pleasant tickle.

Paul slid his hands up her bare arms and lingered there on her biceps for a few beats, his fingers stroking her heated flesh. Then he moved his hands around her back, engulfing her in the biggest, warmest embrace she’d ever known.

She broke the kiss and wriggled against him, savoring every point where their bodies touched. Her nose fit perfectly in the hollow of his chest, and she buried her face there and breathed him in.

“You smell like river water,” she murmured.

“You smell like Tater Tots.”

She grinned against his T-shirt. “My two favorite smells in the whole world.”

“Maybe we can market it as a men’s cologne.”

Cami tipped her head back, the urge to kiss him again stronger than her urge to nuzzle her face against his chest. Paul needed no further prompting and lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her again, more slowly this time. His tongue found hers, and Cami sighed with delight as he pressed his hand into the small of her back. She arched against him, her pelvis grinding against his thigh.

Paul kept his mouth on hers, placing a trail of kisses across her chin, down her throat, and into the warm hollow beneath her ear. Cami whimpered and threaded her fingers through his hair, feeling breathless and dizzy. A tiny part of her urged her to smooth the front of her shirt, thank him for stopping by, and usher him out before he had a chance to realize she wasn’t his kind of girl.

Most of her wanted to fuck Paul Hammond on the kitchen counter.

I’m going with that
, she thought, and glanced behind her to assess whether the countertop was the appropriate height. If she pushed the coffeemaker off to the side and scooted the knife block—

“Your sister has your dimples,” Paul said.

Cami turned back, baffled. “I’m sorry?”

Paul nodded toward the refrigerator, and Cami followed his eyes to the photograph posted beside it.

A bucket of ice water splashed across her libido.

“You two look so much alike,” Paul said. “Of course, it’s obvious you got the better genes. Does that annoy her?”

There was a roaring in Cami’s ears, and she gripped the edge of the counter to keep herself upright. The smell of Tater Tots was heavy in the air, but it no longer filled her with lust.

She felt heavy with shame.

Cami licked her lips and gripped the counter harder.

“I don’t have a sister.” Her voice was high and tight, and Cami barely recognized it as her own. “I think you should go now, Paul.”

His eyes went wide. “What?”

“This isn’t a good idea,” Cami said. She put a hand on his shoulder, intent on steering him toward the door.

Great shoulders
, she thought with a twist of wistful lust. Then she pushed him away.

“I really can’t get involved with a client—”

“I’ll quit yoga.”

“And even if I
could
, this whole thing is moving so fast—”

“I’m notoriously slow,” Paul countered, stumbling toward the door. “Old women honk at me on the parkway.”

“And this really isn’t a good time for a relationship—”

“I’m happy to be your cheap fling.”

They’d reached the front of the house, and Cami pulled the door open with one hand, reluctant to remove the other from Paul’s shoulder. She took a shaky breath and released her grip on him.

“Goodbye, Paul.”

He blinked and stepped through the door. “If this is really what you want.”

“It is.”

It isn’t. It really, really isn’t.

But Cami bit her tongue and closed the door. She turned around so she wouldn’t have to watch him walk away.

So he wouldn’t see her crying.

…

Somewhere on the drive between Cami’s house and the restaurant, a light went on in Paul’s head.

“It’s her,” he said out loud, banging a hand on the steering wheel. “It’s Cami in the damn photo.”

Jesus. That explained everything. Her fondness for fitness, her calorie-counting habit, her obsessive need to indulge in a guilty pleasure like Tater Tots.

“Screw that,” Paul said, tires squealing as he banked hard into the parking lot of his favorite gourmet food market.

He moved quickly, filling his basket with the necessities. Fresh basil, plump sea scallops, a pint of bright crimson strawberries, and Arborio rice. He paid for his purchases and hustled home, scrambling to change clothes, collect a few kitchen necessities, and clip two sprigs of rosemary off the plant on his windowsill in less time than it would take most men to reapply deodorant.

He was breathless by the time he got back to Cami’s house, and he stopped on the walkway to get his bearings before he knocked. He combed his fingers through his hair, feeling a pang of longing at the memory of Cami’s hands rumpling it. He smoothed the front of his shirt and wished he’d bothered to iron it. The door flew open and Cami stared blankly.

“What are you doing?”

Paul looked up and shrugged. “At the moment? Sniffing myself to make sure I’m not too sweaty.”

One corner of Cami’s mouth turned up and Paul felt a surge of hope she wasn’t angry.

“I didn’t mean right that second, though thanks for the information. I meant—”

“I know what you meant,” Paul said, taking a step forward. “May I come in?”

“What for?”

“I’m cooking you dinner.”

Cami blinked. “Dinner?”

“It’s the last meal of the day, generally preceded by lunch and followed by dessert.”

Cami didn’t reply, but didn’t shut the door in his face. Paul took another step forward.

“I’m not here to seduce you. Not like that, anyway. I want to seduce your palate.”

“What?”

“I have groceries.” He hefted his bags. “It would be a shame to have them go to waste.”

Cami licked her lips. “That’s me in the photo. The girl you thought was my sister? That’s me. I used to weigh—”

“I don’t care, Cami. The only scale allowed in my kitchen is for measuring dry ingredients.”

She bit her lip. The corner of it quirked up a bit. “I have—
food issues.
Getting involved with a chef—
a gourmet chef
—would be stupid.”

“I’d hardly call a love of Tater Tots a
food issue
. And who’s getting involved? We’re just having dinner.”

Her mouth quirked again. Paul took another step forward.

“Look, Cami. I know my comment about the photo upset you and sent you down some sort of path of self-doubt and food denial, and I wish I could take the whole thing back. I can’t promise I won’t put my foot in my mouth again, but I can promise to put something really good in
your
mouth.”

Cami burst out laughing, and Paul grimaced. “That sounded a lot filthier than I meant it to.”

Something about the laughter must have weakened her defenses, and Cami stepped aside. “Fine. You can come in. But I really shouldn’t eat that. Er, whatever it is.”

Paul didn’t answer, but he headed straight for the kitchen and began unloading things from his grocery bags. Cami stepped up beside him and watched with a fascinated expression.

“Butter?” she said. “I haven’t had real butter for ages.”

“You’ve had fake butter?”

“I’ve had hydrolyzed soy protein, or, occasionally, pureed prunes as a healthful, dairy-free, low-calorie alternative to butter.”

Paul frowned. “Are you lactose intolerant?”

“No. But my mother says—”

“Screw your mother. Not literally.” Paul frowned and shook his head. “There should be real butter in everyone’s life. In the culinary sense, not like in the anal rape scene from
Last Tango in Paris
, but—”

“Mmm, avocados. Of course, the fat content in an avocado—”

“Knock it off,” he said, snatching the oblong green shape from her hand. “We’re having strawberry-avocado salad with pecans and cinnamon-spice dressing, and you’re going to love it. Do you know why?”

Cami bit her lip. “Why?”

“Because strawberries and avocados are known aphrodisiacs. So are the scallops and basil in my recipe for grilled scallops with basil and lavender essence. And I promise you’ll swoon as soon as you taste my herbed risotto with blanched asparagus and rosemary.”

“Aphrodisiacs? I thought you weren’t trying to seduce me.”

“I’m seducing your palate. You have untapped valleys of food lust, and I’ve been sent by authorities to help you channel that lust in positive directions.”

Cami swallowed and picked up the avocado again. “Food lust?”

“Your thing with the Tater Tots? Hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. A woman with a passion for food—
any food
—that is a beautiful thing. Hand me that basil.”

Cami looked down at the counter. “Which one’s the basil?”

Paul grinned and pointed with his knife. “The leafy green stuff over there.”

Cami handed it to him and folded her hands in front of her. “I’m nervous.”

“About what?”

“About eating high-calorie food. About having you know my obsession with Tater Tots. About sleeping with you. Not necessarily in that order.”

“Here’s the thing about food,” Paul said as he began to chop the basil with fine, even strokes. “Moderation is important, but satisfying your body’s urges—well, that’s important, too. You’re clearly a woman with strong urges. For
food
,” he added as Cami flushed and gripped the avocado a bit too firmly. “Certain food. I’m no shrink, but it seems like you’re channeling all your food lust into one, single, solitary guilty pleasure when there are so many other pleasures to be had.”

“Pleasures,” Cami repeated, looking a little dazed.

Paul took the avocado from her gently and handed her the carton of strawberries. “Can you hull these and quarter them?”

Cami nodded and set to work beside the sink, fumbling in one of her drawers for a small paring knife that looked like it might have been used to pry nails out of a wall.

“Here, try this one,” Paul said, pulling a small knife out of the set he’d brought from home. “Sharper.”

“Thank you.”

“Do you have more Tater Tots in the oven?”

“No. I don’t think—”

“Don’t think. Taste. And enjoy. Put some more Tater Tots in the oven. They’ll make a perfect appetizer for dinner.”

Cami flushed. “Hardly part of a gourmet meal.”

“They don’t have to be. This meal is all about foods that give you bliss. About figuring out it’s okay to have food make you feel good instead of like a pedophile peering up little girls’ dresses at the bottom of a playground slide.”

“You have a way with words.”

Paul grinned. “And you have a way with a paring knife. Seriously, I’m afraid you’re going to cut your thumb off. Here, try it this way.”

He stepped behind her, half expecting her to stiffen. Instead, she melted back into him, the small of her back fitting snugly against his groin. Paul stifled a groan as he cradled her right hand in his and wrapped his fingers around the knife handle. With the other hand, he guided her fingers around a fat, succulent berry, showing her the right angle to hold it.

“Small strokes,” he murmured against her neck. “Just like when you showed me how to turn the paddleboard.”

“Mmm,” Cami said, leaning back against him. “Like this?”

“Perfect.”

He felt the curve of her perfect backside nestled against him and wanted to drop everything and bend her over the counter.

Patience.

He kept his hands on her for a few beats longer than he really needed to, watching as her fingers cupped the fruit and she made neat little slices into the surface. She was timid at first, handling the extra-sharp paring knife like a snake poised to bite her finger. Soon, though, she got the hang of it. Her fingers were berry-stained and Paul fought the urge to suck the juice off them. Reluctantly, he peeled his body off hers and went back to prepping the rest of the meal.

Cami smiled and picked up a juicy slice of strawberry. She hesitated a moment, then smiled.

“Quality control,” she said, and popped it in her mouth. She closed her eyes as she devoured it, giving a soft little moan of pleasure. She opened her eyes and picked up another. “Holy wow, these are good.”

A hint of berry juice pinkened her bottom lip, and Paul wanted to shove the berries aside and kiss her senseless. She popped another berry in her mouth.

“Last one, I swear.” She groaned again. “Man, these are the best strawberries I’ve ever had. So sweet.”

“Uh-huh,” Paul said like an idiot.

Cami grinned and set her paring knife down. “I’d better get the tots in the oven.”

“Here, try drizzling them with a little truffle oil.” He handed her a small glass vial. “Set the timer a few minutes short and we’ll shave a little parmesan on them before they come out.”

“God, that sounds amazing.”

“Be sure to leave a few plain, too. It’s kinda like sex. The point isn’t to have head-banging, nail-you-up-against-the-wall-with-one-leg-behind-your-neck encounters every single time. The point is to mix it up, with a little missionary, a little cowgirl, a little—”

He didn’t get to finish whatever inane thing he’d been about to say because Cami backed him up against the kitchen counter and kissed him hard. Her lips tasted like strawberries, and Paul dropped his chef’s knife on the counter and reached for her. He pulled her body against his chest, enjoying the softness of her breasts and the angular, molded curves of her hips as he slid his palms over them.