Into the Fire (9 page)

She looked into the bathroom mirror and groaned, quickly grabbing a towel to wrap around herself. All of her mascara had migrated below her eyes, and her hair was a wreck. She twisted it into a knot and secured it with pins. She wasn’t going into anyone’s kitchen with her hair flying everywhere. She smeared lotion beneath her eyes and used a tissue to get rid of the mascara, noticing her eyes looked dazed and gleaming. Would everyone who saw them know what they had been doing? Jack looked smug. She looked…well, ravished, for lack of a more politically-correct word.

She turned her head as he walked into the bathroom behind her and caught a whiff of his scent, now imprinted on her body. “I smell like you.”

“If you’re trying to turn me on, it’s working, but I told Guy we’d hit the back door by nine.” He smiled at her in the mirror then tugged at her towel. “Of course, I could text him and tell him we’re not coming.”

She slapped his hand. “No way. You dragged me out of bed and now you’re going to feed me.”

“Wear something comfortable,” he called after her as she dashed into the bedroom to find clothes.

She took him at his word and pulled on a pair of jeans that were the opposite of skinny. She grabbed a black bra and a low-cut red top that wasn’t too tight around the middle. Maddeningly, he was still ready before she was and was waiting at the small dining table just off the kitchen when she emerged from the bedroom.

Her heart skipped a beat when he took her hand and said, “Let’s go.”

Chapter Ten

He paused at the curb, and a black limo pulled up in front of them. Naturally, he had arranged for transportation. She tried not to be impressed, but it was impossible.

He held her hand when they were seated. Every movement of his fingers on hers struck echoes in her memory. When his thumb brushed her wrist, she remembered how he had held them while he drove into her. Just being near him inspired the urge to get closer. Gradually, she succumbed, drifting to rest against him, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand.

Should one of them be making conversation? “So, tell me about your week,” she began.

Jack chuckled, sounding uncomfortable. “I’d rather hear about yours.”

“Not until you tell me what was so important you spent the week doing something other than finishing your menu. You threw me to the wolves, buddy. If I hadn’t figured out I needed to talk to you, we’d be toast.”

“But you figured it out, and wolves, my ass. My cooks love you. I heard you went out with them every night last week.”

“I’ve been talking to them in order to do my job.”
And pumping them for personal information about Jack
. She shifted away from him, feeling inexplicably guilty. “You certainly weren’t around for me to ask.”

“You have my cell phone number.”

“Jack, I was standing in the middle of your kitchen. I shouldn’t have had to call you. You should have been there.”

“I’m here now.” The limo coasted to a stop. “And we’ve reached our destination.”

Jack opened the door and got out, pulling her after him. “We’ll be about an hour, Bill.”

“Yes, sir.” The car rolled away from the curb, and Jack tugged on her hand.

She followed him down a dark alley. “You sure about this, Jack?”

“Positive.” He stopped in front of a screen door at the end of the alley and rang the bell, one quick buzz, one long burst, then another quick buzz. A few seconds later, she heard a bolt slide, and a dark-skinned man with wiry black hair opened the door.

“Jack, my man, c’mon in. We were starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“Got distracted. This is Lila Grant, my…”

It was fun to watch him flounder but Lila was hungry. “Chief distraction. Nice to meet you.” Jack gave her a grateful smile, and it soothed the hurt she’d felt when she realized he didn’t want to admit they were working together.

“I’m Guy Franklin, welcome to Brill.” She tried not to look star struck as he shook her hand then led them through the kitchen. Cooks were scurrying around, intent on reaching their destinations, completing tasks, and getting food out of the kitchen. She paused to watch a cook stream oil into a vinaigrette, admiring his economy of motion as much as his velvety emulsion. By the time she looked up, she realized Jack and Guy were waiting for her. She caught up with them in front of a small room that held a table set for two. Instead of a wall, a large window separated the room from the kitchen. They’d be able to see everything the cooks were doing.

Before they could enter the room, a woman called Jack’s name. She looked over his shoulder and saw a beautiful blonde in a sleek gold dress moving toward them. Lila stepped aside, feeling out-classed and invisible.

“I’ll just be a minute.” Jack gave them an apologetic look as the blonde wrapped her arms around him and pulled him away.

Guy motioned her into the small room behind the observation window. “The owner’s daughter.” He grimaced, looking as unsettled as she felt. “She’s a handful.”

“I can see that.”

“Can I get you something to drink? An aperitif?” She had no idea what Jack had planned and said as much.

“Jack asked me to make my best things for you. How about I bring you my new favorite cocktail, even though it’s a bit girlie and I only drink it when no one’s watching?”

She smiled. “Sounds perfect.”

He left her in the room, and she became mesmerized by a cook painting a plate with at least ten different colored sauces. Guy reappeared just as the cook piled something brown and crispy on the plate and put it in the window. He grabbed it and carried it into her room.

“My God, that’s gorgeous,” she said.

“Thanks—it’s for you. And here’s your drink. We call it the blackberry smash.” He pulled out a chair for her and she sat, wondering if he was planning on joining them or if he was taking pity on her since Jack had abandoned her.

She pulled a ring of calamari from the pile and popped it in her mouth. “Oh my God.” She stared at the simple pile of fried food.

“I know, right? I bet you were trying to figure out how this is my favorite thing on the menu. Now you know.”

She dragged another bite of juicy, tender squid through the sauces. If Jack didn’t get back here fast, she was going to eat it all and mop up every drop of sauce just out of spite.

She heard a sound and looked up to see him entering the room. “Are you moving in on my girl, Guy?”

Guy shrugged. “You made it easy.”

“If I’d known you were making the calamari, I never would have left her alone.”

She rolled her eyes. “Because that’s all it takes to impress a woman.”

“This dish has gotten me laid…” Guy began counting on one hand, moved to the other, and gave up, throwing his hands in the air. “I’ve lost count. If it isn’t doing anything for you, don’t burst my bubble.”

Jack sat down and took her hand. “Here’s hoping it does something for her.”

She jerked out of his grip. He only wanted it to do something for her so she could fix his menu. She sat back and took a gulp of her drink. The tequila hit her first, followed by lemons and the dark sweetness of blackberries. She took another, slower sip.

In a different way, the drink was as amazing as the calamari. “Brill is for Brilliant, isn’t it?” she asked, smiling at Guy. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Jack frown.

“I like this girl.” Guy snagged a piece of calamari and headed for the door.

“Would it be possible to see a menu?” she asked, before he could escape.

“Sure.” He stuck his head out the door and shouted. A second later, a server thrust a leather-bound menu into his hand. He walked back to the table and handed it to her. “If you see anything you like, don’t hesitate to ask. Otherwise, I’m going to send in the handkerchief ravioli.”

“Yes,” she said instantly, making him laugh.

When he left, she kept her eyes on the menu so she wouldn’t have to look at Jack. They were having a truce, not a relationship, she reminded herself. Not only that, she worked for him. And it was temporary. If he wanted to disappear with a dozen gorgeous blondes, that was his prerogative. She didn’t belong in his world of beautiful people and money, anyway.

“Sorry about that,” Jack said, seeming to read her mind. “Natalie and I are just friends.”

She looked up at him. “Not a problem.”

“Then why do you look pissed?” He polished off the calamari in a few bites and picked up the drink Guy had left for him.

Because it was a problem.
“Because the Inferno menu isn’t as good as this one.” She deliberately hit him where it would hurt and waited for him to lash back.

His cool green eyes stayed mild. “Then it’s a good thing we’re out trolling for inspiration.”

She searched his face for a clue to his emotions. “I expected you to chain me to the stove when I told you I hadn’t made any progress. Inferno opens in six days.”

“And in six days, the menu will be perfect.” He didn’t say
or else
, but she heard it anyway. “Relax, enjoy the food.”

But the smile he gave her was not reassuring.

…

He grinned, getting a kick out of her perplexed expression. She was one of the few people on earth who knew damn well he never relaxed about anything related to food or business, but the minute she’d opened her door and he’d seen her in that insanely hot black dress, wearing high heels and red lipstick, something had eased inside him. He wasn’t wrong; she wanted him, too.

He wished Natalie hadn’t dragged him away like that, but he’d enjoyed Lila’s jealous expression when he returned. He wasn’t going to analyze why that made him cheerful, and he certainly wasn’t going to tell Lila that Natalie was just trying to get Guy’s attention. Poor Guy was going to be in trouble when Natalie stopped playing games, but the bastard deserved it for so easily earning Lila’s admiration. Brilliant, huh?

He responded to Lila’s observations and answered her questions about the menu. He’d known Guy forever, practically grown up with him, but this was the first time he’d ever envied the man. He didn’t like the feeling. He wanted Lila to talk about his food the way she talked about Guy’s.

Two servers entered the room and deftly swapped the empty calamari plate for a stunning plate of ravioli. Each large dumpling held a unique pattern of herbs pressed between two paper thin sheets of pasta. They reminded him of the sun catchers his mother kept on her window, the ones with colorful pressed flowers trapped in the glass. He repressed a sigh at Lila’s amazed expression. Yes, Guy was brilliant.

She picked up a fork. “It feels like a sin to eat something so beautiful.”

“They taste even better than they look.”

“Then beauty is fleeting.” She delicately cut a ravioli in half and scooped it up with her fork. As she chewed, she reached for the other half. Her greedy enthusiasm filled him with longing. She closed her eyes, moaning softly.

Tension shot through him, so he replaced the blissed-out look on her face with another expression of rapture. What color underwear was she wearing? Cotton or lace? And would it be easy to get off in the car? The pain in his jaw eased as he discovered his relaxation technique was much more effective when satisfaction was guaranteed. In fact, he vowed to have the answers to his questions before their next stop.

He reached for a fork. While he’d been lost in thought, she had demolished most of the ravioli.

“You can have the last one,” she said with a satisfied smile. The servers had delivered a tasting of wine with the dish and he watched her swirl and sniff. “Oh, man, that is so good.” She eyed the last ravioli, and he was tempted to let her eat it, but it was more fun to watch her want it.

He ate it in one bite, but didn’t taste it. He tasted her, smooth and silky under his tongue. He leaned toward her, wanting to taste her again.

Guy swept in the door. “No kissing in the kitchen. Company policy. If you two start, I won’t have a prayer of controlling my staff.” He patted Lila on the shoulder. “No need to blush, sweetheart. My ravioli has that effect on everyone.”

Jack reached for his wallet. He wanted to get her in the car. Now.

“Don’t even think about it,” Guy said. “Your money is no good here. Feel free to return the favor next week.”

“It’s a deal.” Jack held out his hand, and Guy shook it.

“Thank you for the exquisite appetizers,” Lila said. “Your food is wonderful. You take an item and make it absolutely the best it can be. Then you pair it with things that complement and contrast, and you trust the diner to understand and appreciate the food. No smoke and mirrors. I can respect that.”

“You got that from a couple of dishes?” Guy asked.

“And from reading your menu.”

Guy looked at Jack. “Keep this one.”

Jack couldn’t do that, but he nodded. He wished she was talking about him, but Lila’s ability to capture the essence of Guy’s food in a few words made him want her even more.

Guy walked them toward the back and opened the door. “You need any help with Inferno, Jack? I remember what a nightmare it was to open this place.”

Jack shook his head, urging Lila forward. “I’m all set.”

Guy snorted. “Of course you are. You wouldn’t admit it if you weren’t, but don’t forget I’m here. Where are you two headed next?”

“Standing Room.”

“Really?” Guy looked shocked.

Jack shrugged. He wanted Lila to see the food New York loved, at least this week, no matter who was cooking it. Guy was still shaking his head as they headed into the alley. “Have a good night, you two.”

The driver was waiting. Jack opened the door and climbed in after her. With a touch of a button, they had privacy, and he pulled her in for a kiss. She tasted of wine and herbs, a heady mixture. He reached for the button of her jeans. “I’m still hungry.”

He eased her zipper down then reached behind her waist and tugged her jeans down to her knees, glad they weren’t the super-tight style everyone seemed to be wearing lately. Methodically, he slid her shoe off, removed the leg of her pants from one ankle and settled himself between her thighs.

She stared down at him. The tension between them made the air feel alive, as if every move he made would impact her and vice versa. He gripped her thighs and bent his head to nuzzle her. She was wearing tiny red lace panties, just as he had imagined last week.

Her thighs were tense, knees angled and upright. She sat straight on the leather seat. He breathed against her and watched her fingers curl into fists. Her lips pressed into a thin line. He stayed still, unmoving, simply breathing between her thighs, enjoying her warm scent and waiting for her to forget about the fact they were in a car on their way to a restaurant. He reached forward to take her hands, twining their fingers.

He looked up and saw her blue eyes begin to heat.

“A truce is a beautiful thing,” he whispered against her thigh.

Her head fell back against the seat, but she still watched him through hooded lids as he hooked her panties to the side and leaned in to taste her. Perfection. He would happily spend hours just like this, breathing against her, barely moving. But since traffic was light, it wasn’t going to take them too much longer to reach their destination. He sought and found the spot that made her moan. He gripped her hands tighter. Still, she watched him.

He closed his eyes, focusing solely on her response to the slight movement of his tongue as he teased her. He felt tension build in her thighs, and she squeezed his hands harder. He pressed forward, capturing her with his lips, moving his tongue faster, driven by the urge to make her his.

When she gasped and pulsed against his mouth, triumph roared through him, and it took every ounce of restraint not to reverse their positions, shuck his jeans, and pull her onto his lap. He was rock hard and aching, but her wrecked expression gave him all the pleasure he needed.