Into the Fire (13 page)

She stared blankly at Mr. Calabrese. “Angioplasty?”

“I told them they’d have to wait until Inferno is open. I’m going to be laid up for a while, and I can’t ask Jack to take over Calabrese Incorporated until then. He’s got cooking in his blood.” Mr. Calabrese’s pride was obvious. He continued, heedless of her disbelief. “And he stuck around for all these years to get his restaurant. The least I can do is let him have his moment of glory.”

There were so many things wrong with what he had just said, she didn’t know where to start. Postponing surgery for a restaurant opening? He thought Jack cared more about Inferno than him? For God’s sake, he thought Jack had stuck around for a restaurant? Jack had enough of his own money to open a dozen restaurants. It wasn’t a restaurant he wanted from his father, even
she
knew that much. “I’m sorry to hear about your heart,” she finally said.

He shrugged, looking so much like his son she could only stare, feeling sympathy for both of them. “I can’t help you with your health, but I can make you lunch. No need to stress your already taxed system with low blood sugar. What can you eat?”

Mr. Calabrese made a face. “Rabbit food. Lean protein. No fat, cholesterol, or flavor.”

“We’ll see about that,” Lila promised.

She shut the door behind her, filled with purpose. Black bean cakes, heart healthy and full of fiber, sizzled in her imagination. Limes and cilantro. Lettuce, of course, but not just any lettuce. Arugula, to suit Mr. Calabrese’s gruff disposition.

It was perfect for the Inferno menu, a double win because she needed another salad. She also needed two more entrees, but she would worry about that after she finished the salad. She was going to blow Andrew Calabrese’s silver hair back. He’d never say rabbit food had no flavor again.

The crew was straggling in the door as she entered the kitchen, so she began calling off orders as she started the new dish. She couldn’t wait to see the look on Jack’s face when he saw his menu, transformed, sitting in the window tonight, and she put everyone to work helping to make it happen.

When Jack came back into the kitchen, she considered putting him to work, too. He didn’t give her the chance, striding with purpose toward the office.

For a second, she almost followed him, but then the last two pieces of the menu puzzle snapped into place. She hurried to the cooler instead.

Each new dish on the menu was a blend of their cooking styles, but his spare brilliance and her playful whimsy occupied opposite corners of the universe. She would showcase that by making their original competition dishes—the rack of lamb he had described to her the night before the competition and the duck dish he had stolen from her—and putting them both on the menu.

Fix it, indeed. She was all over it. The menu and the men of the Calabrese family had better watch out. Lila was going to whip them all into shape. As raised voices thundered from the back, she hoped they didn’t kill each other before she had the chance.

…

“What the hell is that?” Jack asked, grabbing her arm as she walked by. She was supposed to be working on the menu, not taking a lunch break.

She shook him off. “A little something for your father.”

He looked at the plate and snorted. “Salad? Good luck with that. He never eats anything unless it’s been wrapped in bacon, drowned in heavy cream, and fried.”

She shrugged. “Worth a try. Maybe his tastes have changed.”

“Why do you care about his tastes?” Their truce was over, so she was moving on to a bigger fish? Blinding pain ricocheted from his jaw down the back of his neck. Lila was wearing jeans and a chef coat. What was she wearing underneath? He imagined her in ice-blue lace the same color as her eyes. Lust ripped through him, taking him to an entirely new level of tense. He stared, watching her lips move but not making sense of her words.

“Hey.” She snapped her fingers in his face. “I asked you a question. Have you ever asked your father what he wants to eat?”

“Hell, no.” That was part of their game. Jack had to come up with something he couldn’t resist.

“Try it sometime.”

She left him standing there. Jack clenched his teeth and decided it was time for a drink. Just as he’d expected, his father hadn’t been pleased by the disasters in his restaurants this week. Nor was he happy when Jack pointed out that a little simple kitchen maintenance would have averted all of them.

Jack stomped into the bar, poured a shot of Patron, and tossed it back. It didn’t help, especially when he remembered Lila’s salad had been Mexican-themed. He reached for the rum instead.

He should be thrilled. If Lila could please the old man, then she could fix his menu. His father hadn’t eaten a single goddamn dish that had come out of the Inferno kitchen, including that perfect schnitzel. If his father liked the new menu, Inferno would open to rave reviews.

He assumed the old man was here to check up on his progress, since Jack knew first-hand how much work needed to be done at the other restaurants. Had Lila invited his dad to taste the new menu? Is that why he was sticking around?

Jack poured another shot. Lila had announced the new menu would be ready soon. He couldn’t wait. He sipped this shot, letting it calm him. He couldn’t hide in the bar while his cooks worked their asses off, so he went back into the kitchen. Another empty plate mocked him from the bus tub, but there wasn’t a single leaf of lettuce in the garbage.

Chapter Fourteen

An hour later, Jack stared at the plates in front of him. “What the hell are you trying to prove?” He wasn’t surprised to see she’d prepared her duck dish—the one he had used to win the competition—but what the hell was his rack of lamb doing under the heat lamp? “Get this shit out of here.”

Lila grabbed his hand as he reached for the first plate. Her blue eyes were blazing, and she had a smudge of grease on her pink cheek. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she asked.

“I hired you to come up with new dishes, not rehash the past.” They were drawing an audience, but he didn’t care. After all the inspiration he’d provided over the weekend, this was all she could produce? He pointed at the plates. “Is this the best you can do?” As the words left his mouth, his father’s voice rang in his ears.

“Goddamn it.” He reached for the dish again, but she hip checked him then inserted herself between him and the plates in the window.

“Don’t touch those plates,” she called over her shoulder as she gave him a hard shove into the dish room and maneuvered him out the back door. She kicked the door stop, so the heavy door shut behind them, giving them privacy from the kitchen staff.

They glared at each other for a long moment before she said, “No, that’s not the best I can do. I’m just getting started. You asked me to recreate your menu and put my stamp on your food, and I did. But I needed a starting point and I think those two dishes are perfect.”

“Your dish is perfect. You said it yourself—my food is boring.”

Her blue eyes clouded, and he looked away, not wanting to see her pity when he asked, “How did you do it? How did you make something my father liked? He ate every bite of that salad, and he hasn’t eaten every bite of anything I’ve made since I graduated from culinary school.”

“Is that what this is about? The salad? Your father? Because shouldn’t you be talking to him, then?”

“We don’t talk. We yell.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

Her blue eyes were too perceptive, so he changed the subject. “Is the menu finished?”

She nodded.

“Great.” Instead of feeling excitement or relief, he felt a stab of despair, just like when he’d seen that empty salad plate. With the menu done, she was one step closer to gone.

Silence swelled between them until it seemed to fill the entire alley, taking up all the space and pressing them together. His awareness of her grew until he ached. She smelled like green things and garlic, the scent of his kitchen, and he wanted to taste salt on her skin.

He focused on her mouth and saw her lips part. She licked them, dragging her teeth over her lower lip. He heard her swallow, a choked sound of desire, and he stepped forward, trapping her against the alley wall. Her head fell back and he caught her next breath on his lips. Her presence in his kitchen was purchased with the contract. She had come to his bed to finish the menu. She wanted him, but she didn’t care for him. How many times did he have to wake up alone before he got the picture? But none of that mattered as their bodies met.

He pressed her against the wall, crushing her breasts against his chest and claiming her mouth with a rough kiss. He expected resistance, but she opened for him in welcome. He swept inside, seeking her tongue. He closed his eyes as he sank into her, taking control of her mouth and breath, molding her body to his.

It wasn’t enough. He reached for the overlap of her double-breasted chef coat and pulled. Cloth buttons gave way, baring her white tank top. He yanked it up over her breasts and sought her nipples through her pale pink bra. They were already hard, and she moaned when he took her mouth at the same time.

The kitchen door flew open, startling them both. Lila grasped the lapels of her chef coat, covering herself. He angled his body to block hers.

Daniel hooted. “Get a room!” The door slammed. A half-second later, he heard the bolt slide home. His crew had just locked them out of the kitchen.

Lila’s face was beet red. She batted at his hands as he reached for her. “Are you kidding? Forget it.”

He cupped her breast and rubbed his hard cock against her hip. “The way I see it, we might as well finish what we started.”

“Everyone knows now.” She sounded breathless.

“Then we better give them something to talk about.” He silenced her with another kiss.

The alley was dark, the only light coming from the window on the kitchen door. She looked like a disheveled angel leaning against the brick wall, coat undone, and hair falling out of its knot. Swiftly, he tugged the pins and shoved them in his pocket. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders, and he tangled his fist in it, drawing her head back. He ran his tongue up the long line of her neck, groaning as he tasted sweat and skin.

“I have three things on the stove.” He felt the effort it took her to speak.

“If Daniel didn’t check the stove and the ovens when he locked the door, I’ll fire him. Later.” He thrust one thigh between her legs and pulled her forward. Rocking his hips, he ground against her.

She gripped his biceps hard. “You don’t fight fair.”

“Are we fighting? I like that idea. Let’s have the make-up sex first.” He continued to push her, rubbing his leg between hers. His fully erect cock nestled in the hollow of her hip, and every movement shot fire through his veins in anticipation and memory. He needed to be inside her.

“Yes.” Her whisper was a breath of warm air against his lips. “On one condition.”

“Name it.” Negotiation was familiar ground for them. He surged forward, wrapping his arms around her back to protect her from the rough bricks as he worked their bodies closer together.

“Ask your father why he didn’t eat the schnitzel.”

…

Jack stepped away from her so fast, she was glad to have a wall behind her to catch her. “What the hell kind of crazy condition is that?” he asked.

She silently cursed the inspiration that was going to cost her hot sex in an alley, but the pieces of the Jack puzzle were coming together as fast as the Inferno menu. The past week spent gathering information about him had brought her to a new understanding. Yes, he’d stolen her ideas during the competition, but Jack was a competitive bastard, and he thought she’d lied to him. She could see how he would think her duck dish was fair game. Sure, he’d manipulated her by buying Personal Chef, but Jack had been raised by one of New York’s most successful businessmen. He didn’t know any other way to operate. He’d negotiated a truce to get her to sleep with him because he thought the only way she would agree was if she was getting something tangible out of it, too—menu ideas.

Well, the menu was finished, and she wanted something else from him now. She wanted him to make a place for her in his life for more than a few days, more than three weeks. She wanted him to love her. She closed her eyes and sagged against the bricks, blind-sided by the enormity of her desire.

“Lila?” His voice was furious.

She opened her eyes. Jack wore the tense, unhappy expression he always wore when someone mentioned his father. Determination rose inside her. She stood up straight to face him, more certain by the minute that the key to Jack’s heart was hidden by his inability to see himself clearly, a misperception that was tied to his father’s approval. “You need to talk to your dad, Jack. Talk, not yell.”

Jack shook his head. “If you like him so much, you talk to him. Make him another salad.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So, no deal?”

Every line of his body screamed rejection. She could still walk away, but if she did she would never know if her love for Jack could become something more, something shared by both of them. She felt the earth shift beneath her feet, and she stepped into the abyss. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his chest. “Worth a shot.”

He took a sharp breath. She slid a hand under his chef coat and t-shirt to touch the bare skin of his back. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Moving on to the make-up sex you mentioned a minute ago.”

“But I didn’t meet your condition.” The confusion in his voice warmed her.

She tilted her head to look up at him. “Hasn’t anyone ever given you more than you bargained for?”

“Never.” His arms tightened around her.

She pressed a kiss to the warm hollow of his neck. “There’s always a first time.”

“How can I be sure I’m going to get what I want if we don’t make a deal?” His voice sounded like poured gravel.

“I guess you’ll have to trust me.”

His eyes closed briefly, and when he opened them they were flat and hard. “You lied to me. Every time we go to bed, you leave without saying good-bye. You’ve got me bent over a barrel with this menu, holding the power to make or break my career. Now you’re cozying up to my father, a man who…” He broke off, pinning her to the wall with his cool green stare. “Tell me why I should trust you.”

She had to tell him. She couldn’t demand honesty from him while offering less, but the thought of exposing herself this way made her blood run cold. He thought she had power? If she told him this, he’d know everything. He’d know she had lost faith in her competition menu and changed it. He’d know she left him in bed alone because she didn’t want to see rejection in his eyes when he woke up. If he thought about it, he might guess she loved him.

She took a deep breath but paused when she heard a bolt slide and the kitchen door opened again. “Yoohoo! Anybody out there?” Emily’s voice rang down the alley. “Ding! Ding! Ding! Dinner time!”

“Coming,” Jack called back.

When he looked down at her, his eyes were coldly amused. “Saved by the bell, but this discussion is not over.” He trailed a hand down her body, making her shiver. “Come home with me, Lila. Let’s talk about this somewhere more comfortable. In bed. Or at least not in an alley.”

She sighed in mock disappointment, inwardly grateful for the reprieve. “I was looking forward to the alley, but I guess I’ll settle for your bed,” she said lightly, as she tugged her shirt back down and buttoned her coat. The flare of heat in his gaze made her sizzle, but it was hope that warmed her as she followed him back into the kitchen. How could he not love her after he tasted the new menu?

…

Jack surveyed the wreckage of two dozen perfect plates. Lila’s menu was incredible. Each dish was a showstopper and a heart stopper. Bold flavors, pungent spices, and fresh herbs put together in combinations that were playful and imaginative yet never stepped over the line into weird. It was exactly what he had wanted from her.

His cooks were as bowled over as he was, slapping Lila on the back with effusive congratulations. Jack saw his father smile when Lila handed him a bowl of soup, a hearty broth-based vegetable medley, and damned if he didn’t sit down and slurp his way through the entire bowl. Jack couldn’t blame him. It was the best meatless vegetable soup he’d ever tasted, but it still rankled. How could vegetable soup be better than schnitzel?

For a minute he was tempted to do as Lila suggested and ask his father what had been wrong with the food, but he knew from experience his father wouldn’t mince words while giving his opinion. It was hard enough to make peace with the fact Lila had made his menu better, he didn’t need to get a lecture on how and why.

He listened to Lila give notes to his cooks and felt his cock harden. Even his jealousy couldn’t kill his desire for her. She had him by the balls. Now that the menu was set, he realized she’d had him by the balls all weekend. He should have been in the kitchen cooking, but he’d been buried deep in her. Thank God it had worked out for the best. She’d come up with a killer menu, and his cooks had knocked it out of the park.

Lila clapped her hands. “All right, everybody, great job. Clean up and go home. We have a lot of work ahead of us before the big day. You can safely expect to work like dogs for the rest of the week, so get some rest tonight.” His staff scattered, grabbing plates and carrying them back to the kitchen. By the time the dining room was cleared, the kitchen was halfway clean and it didn’t take long to put the place to bed.

Jack grabbed a broom and started sweeping, an idea brewing in the back of his mind.

He’d been as close to Lila as a person could get, talked food with her for hours and watched her work, but he was no closer to figuring out how she had worked such wonders with his menu. Would she be willing to stay on staff and consult on future Inferno menus? What could he offer her that might keep her here?

He tucked the broom and dustpan into the corner of the dish room. A few minutes later, his dishwasher dumped the mop bucket and hung the mop on its hook. His cooks were gone. Jack turned out the lights and waited for Lila.

“Goodnight and thank you.” He let the dishwasher out the back door with a smile that had nothing to do with a job well done. He and Lila might fail to communicate about work, but they had a perfect connection in bed. She had a tremendous effect on him, but he knew he affected her in an equally powerful way. After such a busy day, they could both use a shower, and the erotic possibilities offered by a removable showerhead were many. He was determined to explore every one in the name of getting clean with Lila. Then he was going to spread her out on his bed and begin the pleasurable process of getting dirty again. Rinse and repeat. All night. Or at least until she agreed to stay at Inferno.