Flirting with Felicity (9 page)

She went still. “What?”

“We might battle over the hotel, but clearly we are
compatible in other areas.”

She frowned. “What are you saying?”

“That we could be very good together.”

A treacherous warmth slowly crept across her skin. She fought
the weakness with all her might. She’d been down this road once before with
James. She wouldn’t allow herself that kind of weakness again. “You want a
physical relationship with me?”

“Yes, Felicity. Sex.”

A part of her urged a “yes” in return, but another part
spoke. “That would be dangerous and foolish.”

“Dangerous or not, I want you. We’re both adults. We can
separate business from pleasure.”

Maybe he could. Felicity forced herself to step back, out of
his embrace. “Not until the Bancroft is settled between us.”

He reached for her, but she took another step back.

“It could be settled now, if you’d only accept my offer.”

She shook her head, partially to clear the leaden effect of
his words and partly because of her own foolishness. “Are you trying to seduce
the hotel out from under me? Is that what this is?”

“No.” He met her gaze. Something reflected in his eyes for a
heartbeat, before it was replaced with desire. “For some reason, I can’t get
you out of my mind. I think you feel the same way.”

Felicity shook her head, trying to be convincing. She had
experience in the realm of relationships, but she was certain even that
experience had not prepared her for what Blake would demand of her.

“Come here, Felicity. Why can’t we indulge in what we both
want?”

Despite doubts and more rational thoughts, an electrical
shock went through her at the raw possibility. She found herself taking an
involuntary step toward him, before she stopped herself. No, she couldn’t give
in.

“Think about it. No ties. No promises. Just passion.”

She drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “My first
impression was right.”

A frown furrowed his brow. “About what?”

“You’re dangerous.”

“That can be a good thing,” he told her with a twinkle in his
eyes.

He seemed certain he could separate their business from the
pleasure. She wasn’t sure about her ability to do the same. When she committed
to something, it was with her whole heart and soul. “No.” She moved farther
away, hoping the distance would help her think more clearly. “We need to go
back to our original agreement.”

His brow rose fractionally. “Which was?”

“You spend the day with me in my world, then I spend the day
with you in yours. The only thing that happens between us is the hotel.”

He returned her steady regard. “Are you asking for another
day with me, because of the day’s interruptions?”

“It seems only fair.”

He hesitated, staring at her as though committing her
features to memory. “I say we need to amend our original agreement.”

“How?”

A half smile hovered on the edges of his lips. “If we spend
the day together again tomorrow, you’ll have had two days to convince me that
the hotel belongs to you. I want equal time.”

“A day and a half,” Felicity countered.

He leaned forward, his face just to the side of hers. His
nearness making her heart beat all the faster. “I want two full days, and that
doesn’t include travel time,” he whispered in her ear.

Her breasts tightened. Flight time to San Francisco could be
easily accomplished while still giving them plenty of time to see his “world.”

He lifted his hand to her chin again. His gaze held hers as
he searched her face for something. “Two full days. Those are my terms.”

Before she could move, he lowered his lips to hers again.

Felicity moaned at the contact. This kiss was different than
the last one. This kiss was demanding, inviting, blatantly sexual.

And it made her burn.

“You are so very tempting,” he whispered as he drew back. “Do
we have a deal?”

Her body on fire, she nodded, though she wasn’t certain if
she had agreed to the two days, the sex, or both.

“Back to the waterfront in the morning, then?” he conceded.

She shook her head. “My sous-chef can take care of the fish
and the market. Besides, it was obvious from the way you moved through Pike
Place Market that you’d already been there many times. I wouldn’t be showing
you anything new.”

“I’ve never seen the market through your eyes,” he said with
a grin, the one that made her heart speed up and her knees go weak once more.
She gripped the prep table beside her for support.

She couldn’t argue that the man affected her physically. The
chemistry between them was undeniable. But just because there was chemistry
didn’t mean she had to act on it. She’d felt attraction before. Not lately.
She’d been far too busy these last three years to even think about men in that
respect. “I have something else planned. Meet me here in the kitchen at ten
o’clock in the morning.”

There was a long hesitation, until he finally nodded. “All
right,” he agreed, “as long as you promise to be cooperative with me when it’s
my turn.”

Too late, she saw he’d cornered her. Who knew the extent of
cooperation? Still, she inclined her head. “I promise.”

He reached over and snagged another
sfogliatelle
from
the counter beside him and tossed her a self-satisfied smile as he headed for
the door. “Until tomorrow then.” The words were spoken with a silken sensuality
that warmed her to her core.

Felicity watched as the door flap closed behind him. Who was
she kidding? How was she going to keep him at arm’s length if whenever they were
together she went up in flames at just a hint of a smile?

She released a groan and tipped her head back to stare at the
ceiling. She was in so much trouble, more than she’d ever dreamed possible.
Blake was her rival for the Bancroft, and yet all she could think about was the
offer he’d made. He wanted her. It was sex, pure and simple. No strings. No
attachments.

A physical relationship between business adversaries? Was
such a thing even possible?

“Oh, Vern,” Felicity sighed. “Did you know what you were
doing when you left me this gift?” She wouldn’t put it past that cunning old
man.

Hospital waiting rooms were never Felicity’s favorite
place to hang out. She clenched her ice-cold hands together, as though coupled
they might generate some warmth. Leaning back in the stiff chair, hope
tightened her chest until she could hardly breathe. The experimental procedure
had to work. It had to bring her father back to her. She’d placed so many of
her hopes and dreams on this procedure for so long.

After what felt like hours later, a man in blue surgical
scrubs pushed into the waiting area. His mask hung loosely around his neck and
a cloth skullcap, featuring every Marvel action hero, covered most of his dark
brown hair.

He approached Felicity with a smile. “Felicity Wright?”

She nodded, not trusting her voice as she pleaded silently
for success. Blood roared in her ears, muffling the words. She took a long,
shaking breath and balled her fingers into fists.

“His brain activity has increased. Early signs look favorable
despite the many years of damage.”

A sense of euphoria threaded through all the questions racing
through her mind, making her feel as though she had wings. “He’ll be okay?” she
asked as tears of joy scalded her eyes.

“It will take time, and lots of therapy, but it appears the
procedure worked,” the doctor said softly. “We’ll need to keep him here for
three days to monitor his progress.”

Felicity took her first easy breath since she’d brought her
father in early this morning. They finally had the money to cover not only the
procedure, but his stay in the hospital as well, thanks to Vern and his gift.
If she got nothing else from being the owner of the hotel, even a temporary
one, this was enough. Vern had given both her and her father a possible cure.

Felicity smiled at the doctor. “Can I see him?”

“Of course,” he replied. “Follow me.”

At his bedside, Felicity leaned over her father and
kissed his cheek. “Hi, Dad.”

He stared at the ceiling above him—the silver depths of his
eyes showing no recognition at all. “You’ve had a busy day so far,” she said,
reaching out and stroking his hair. She kept hoping against hope that he would
hear her, blink his eyes, twitch a finger, something. But there was nothing
except the droning beep of the heart monitor and the quiet strain of her own
breathing.

Felicity settled into the chair beside the bed and took his
hand. All the busy talk she usually pressed on him died in her throat. She was
very glad he’d gone back to eating, so the procedure could go ahead. There were
no immediate results. And still she’d been so hopeful that it would bring the
man her father had been back to her.

Closing her eyes, she saw her father at her sophomore year father-daughter
dance. He’d been so handsome in his dress merchant marine uniform with its
shiny brass buttons and white hat. He’d come home that day with a surprise for
her—a long, cream-colored dress purchased just for her. She’d felt like a fairy
princess that night, dancing with him in the high school gymnasium under cutout
paper stars. “You’ll be my princess forever,” he’d said, filling her heart with
joy.

A week later, her mother was dead. After her father had
recovered from his physical injuries, he could move about, but usually ended up
sitting in a chair by the window every day, watching the world go by, saying
nothing at all. His brain had been damaged, the doctors had said. He might
recover someday, but only with the help of an expensive treatment that she’d
been saving for over the past ten years of working in restaurants.

That day had finally come, thanks to Vern. And they would get
the results they wanted eventually.

Felicity smiled and opened her eyes. “Don’t worry, Dad. You
just rest and let your brain do the rest. When you’re ready, I know you’ll come
back to me.”

Two hours later, Felicity was back at the hotel,
back to her normal routine. Her burdens suddenly felt lighter, as though
nothing could take away her happiness today—not even Blake’s absence could put
a dent in her mood. Today was a great day.

“Here’s the last of it,” the driver of the delivery truck
from the food bank said as he handed the overly large box down to Felicity from
the flatbed of the vehicle.

“Looks like lots of celery was donated this week,” Felicity
replied, glancing at the slightly withered vegetables in the box. What could
she teach her students to make with celery?

“Thanks for your help.” The food bank driver nodded his
appreciation before he jumped down and headed to the cab of his truck.

Felicity handed the box to TJ, one of the homeless men
enrolled in her Hungry Hearts cooking program. He took the food into the
kitchen through the back door. She followed, glancing at her watch one more
time. It was already past ten, and Blake had yet to show himself.

Had her rejection of his offer last night been the end of his
negotiations for the hotel? She’d made it pretty clear all she wanted out of
their arrangement was the hotel and the restaurant. Blake was a billionaire.
They were from two totally different worlds. Sex, or any kind of a personal
relationship with the man, was out of the question.

In the kitchen, Felicity gathered her students around the
prep table holding all the boxes that had been brought from the food bank.
She’d worked with the food bank for the last year, teaching how to prepare
healthy, protein-rich, and tasty meals with what was donated that day. She
looked over the contents in the boxes. Finally an idea formed. “Today I’m going
to show you how to make braised celery with onion, pancetta, white beans, and
tomatoes. Grab a partner, and go to your stations.”

“TJ and Monica, would you give two heads of celery to
everyone?” As she did every week, Felicity had set up several hot plates around
the kitchen for the teams to use. Local businesses had donated not only the hot
plates, but the pans and utensils her group used. The community was behind her
and her unusual program. “When you get your celery, wash it thoroughly, then
cut off the leafy tops. You can use those later to flavor stock. Remove the
stalks from their base, and use the peelers to pare away most of the strings.
When you’re done with that, cut the celery into pieces about three inches long.”

They all got to work. They knew the drill. This current group
had been in session for seven months now, and it kept growing. She’d started
with six students, but now she hosted between thirty and thirty-five students
every Thursday morning. If the classes grew much larger, she’d have to add
another day to her program. Felicity circulated around the room, answering
questions and demonstrating how to use the peeler to take off the strings.

The primary purpose of the class was to teach the
participants how to feed themselves and others. A secondary purpose was to
teach them professional kitchen skills they could use to find entry-level
positions in the restaurant industry. Soon, she’d be able to recommend several
of her students for work in local kitchens. She’d hired Mary Beth, Michael, and
Casper from the class herself. They’d all proven themselves to be exemplary
students and now employees.

“May I help?”

Felicity looked up to see Blake standing not far from her.

He was dressed in a lightweight blue sweater that intensified
the color of his eyes. “I’d like to help, if I may.”

“You know how to cook?” Felicity asked, suddenly acutely
conscious of the way his sweater hugged his chest and flat stomach. She
swallowed, reminding herself that Blake was not on the menu today, or any day.

“Toast, only, but I follow directions very well.” His voice
had lowered, his tone provocative, challenging, demanding. A tone that, despite
her vow to resist him, sent a jolt of desire through her veins.

She pointed to her left. “Toby needs a partner,” she said,
grateful her voice did not betray her.

Blake headed toward the young black man who worked alone. He
offered Toby his hand, greeting him as he would a business partner. The newly
homeless young man took his outstretched hand with some hesitance. “Nice to
meet you,” he said.

With an effort, Felicity returned her attention to the rest
of the class. “Next, each of you will need an onion and four tomatoes from the
boxes. Slice the onion as thin as you can. Remember the proper way to hold a
knife. No fingers on the top of the blade.”

As Felicity gripped a knife from the prep station beside her
to demonstrate how to hold the handle, her gaze sidled back to Blake. Why was
she so acutely aware of him? She didn’t even have to look at him to see him in
her mind’s eye. He was bent over the onion, demonstrating to Toby how to handle
the blade. As he moved his arm up and down, she could see the muscles of his
washboard-flat abs ripple beneath his thin sweater.

“He’s not bad,” Mary Beth said from behind Felicity’s
shoulder.

Felicity turned around. “What?”

“I see the way you’re watching him,” she said with a
mischievous grin. “I envy you.”

“There is no reason to envy me,” Felicity said, and even
though she tried to look elsewhere, her gaze shifted back to Blake. Her senses
should have been filled with the savory scents of celery and onions, yet the
only fragrance that came to her was Blake’s woodsy scent. Felicity held back a
groan.

“You’re crazy if you don’t appreciate what he has to offer.”

Felicity didn’t answer as she watched Blake scoop up the
onions and place them in a saucepan. He handed Toby a wooden spoon, encouraging
the young man to participate in the cooking. Even as Toby stirred, Blake’s gaze
rested on her. She looked into his eyes, into the unwavering, unshakable blue,
and felt her world slowly reel.

Mary Beth’s eyes cut between Felicity and Blake. “The
temperature in this kitchen is getting hotter by the moment. That man couldn’t
care one lick about the onions in his pan.”

Felicity pulled her attention from Blake and set the knife
back on the prep table. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“You’d rather do things that don’t require talking?” Mary
Beth raised her brows suggestively.

Felicity rolled her eyes. “Can we please get back to cooking?”

“Sure,” Mary Beth agreed, looking back toward where Blake
stood, “but that won’t stop him from looking at you.”

She
wouldn’t
look at him again. There was no sense in torturing herself. She would ignore
him and keep on teaching her students. He was here to get to know them, and
hopefully feel compassion for them. If he cared about what she did with the
hotel and restaurant, perhaps he wouldn’t try to take it away from her.

“While you finish slicing the onion, I’ll come around with
the pancetta and a can of white beans,” Felicity said, pleased she sounded
somewhat normal despite the warmth flooding her traitorous body. “If you don’t
have access to pancetta, you can always substitute bacon, sausage, even chicken
or tofu. Just use some sort of protein. Protein keeps you from being hungry
longer than just vegetables or carbs.”

She made it around to three of the groups, delivering the
necessary supplies before she slowly, helplessly, looked across the room at
Blake.

He was staring at her.

She forgot to breathe.

Even from across the room, his gaze felt like a flame licking
at her skin. She raised her chin, fought to concentrate on what she was doing.
She struggled not to close her eyes and let her other senses stretch toward
him, wrap themselves around him.

“What do we do with the tomatoes?” asked Rick, a young man in
his thirties with a shaved head. Where his hair would have been, a coiled snake
was tattooed on his skin, giving him a street-tough look when he was anything
but.

Rick’s question gave her something to focus on. She drew a
deep breath. “When the onions are sautéed a golden brown, add the pancetta and
beans. While you wait for those to brown, go ahead and dice the tomatoes.
You’ll add them last, and cook them until they’re warm.”