Recipe for Temptation (17 page)

Reese sputtered in protest, but he’d already hung up on her.

When she arrived at the restaurant thirty minutes later, Michael met her outside, looking good enough to eat in his crisp white chef’s jacket. He helped her out of the cab, then paid and tipped the driver so generously that the man’s eyes lit up like he’d just won a million-dollar jackpot.

As the taxi lurched off down the street, Michael and Reese lingered on the sidewalk, gazing at each other. He touched her face, smiling warmly into her eyes. “Hi.”

Her insides melted. “Hi.”

“Glad you came.”

She made a wry face. “You didn’t give me much of a choice, slave driver.”

Chuckling, he took her by the hand and led her inside.

Reese glanced around the crowded restaurant in disbelief. “I thought you said Tuesdays are slow.”

Michael slanted her a grin. “This
is
slow.”

He hung a right, ushering her down a short corridor to the kitchen. Just beyond the swinging door was a fast-paced world of sweat, stress and chaos punctuated by the noisy clang of pots and pans.

Michael escorted Reese through the bustling labyrinth of work spaces to a semiprivate area partitioned off by a long, stainless steel table. From there she’d have an up-close-and-personal view of the action without getting in the way.

Moments after she’d sat down, Michael set a steaming plate before her. Reese’s mouth watered as the most heavenly aroma wafted up her nostrils.

“What’s this?” she breathed, eyeing the appetizing meal.

“Another house specialty. Bourbon-glazed pork tenderloin with caramelized plantains.”

“Oh my.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“Eons ago. We stopped for an early lunch.”

“Good. Then I expect you to clean your plate.”

“Don’t have to tell
me
twice,” Reese said, already seizing her fork.

Michael smiled as he poured her a glass of wine.

“Riesling,” she said wonderingly. “You remembered.”

“Of course.” His smile deepened. “I remember everything.”

She grinned. “Don’t
I
know it.”

He winked at her. “I’ll be back to check up on you later. Enjoy the show.”

And what a show it was, a riveting choreography of cuisine that was unlike anything Reese had ever seen before. As a self-professed foodie, she’d always assumed she knew what went on behind the scenes of a busy restaurant. Now, with a front-row seat to one of the most famous kitchens in the country, she realized how little she’d understood about the level of coordination that went into preparing an entrée before it was served to customers. And everyone, from the line cooks to the sous chef, knew their roles and executed them with brisk efficiency.

It came as no surprise to Reese that Michael’s kitchen ran like a well-oiled machine.

Though he was clearly in charge, he didn’t yell at his crew like some obnoxious, foulmouthed tyrant. He barked orders, but he was never obscene. He scowled when mistakes were made, but he never spared praise. He was intensely focused, but he could disarm with a sudden grin and a joke that drew raucous laughter. He didn’t have to resort to bullying for his commanding presence to be felt throughout the kitchen. His employees understood that he demanded perfection, and they did their damnedest to deliver it. What
did
surprise Reese was how hands-on Michael was. He made a final inspection of every plate that went out and usually added finishing touches—a garnish of celery leaves on lobster, an artful drizzle of sauce over a chicken dish. Unlike many other celebrity chefs who owned restaurants, Michael was no figurehead. He
was
the heart and soul of Wolf’s Soul.

The hours flew by. Before Reese knew it, it was eleven o’clock and the restaurant was closed. While Michael was out front seeing off the last of his customers, she shocked the staff by pitching in to clean up the kitchen, overriding their protests. Michael returned to the sight of her elbow deep in a sink full of dishes, laughing in response to someone’s off-color joke.

When his employees glanced around and saw him frozen in the doorway with an arrested expression on his face, they sobered at once, no doubt afraid they’d get in trouble for allowing his guest to wash dishes. Undaunted, Reese met Michael’s gaze with a look of haughty defiance, silently daring him to reprimand anyone.

Without a word he went to work emptying a trash bin, and the clean-up efforts continued in cheerful camaraderie until the kitchen was spotless.

After everyone had gone home, Reese and Michael collapsed into chairs at the prep table, exhaling sighs of happy exhaustion.

“What a day,” Reese declared, kicking off her sandals.

Michael grinned, propping his big, booted feet on the table and lounging back.

“Nothing like an honest day’s work. Well—at least for one of us.”

“Hey!” Reese laughingly protested, slapping him playfully on the leg. “Shopping with Asha Dubois
is
work!”

“Right,” he drawled, mouth twitching. “I’m sure it was
really
strenuous for you, lifting those glasses of champagne to your lips and lugging around all those
heavy
boxes of designer shoes. Poor baby. You’re gonna need weeks to recover.”

Reese tried to glare at him, but the amusement won out. Throwing back her head, she laughed so hard that tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. Watching her, Michael couldn’t help laughing.

Long moments later, they were still grinning and shaking their heads at each other.

“All kidding aside,” Michael said, sobering. “Thanks for helping out tonight. That was totally…unexpected.”

Reese shrugged dismissively. “I figured it was the least I could do, after I sat around all night stuffing my face while everyone else busted their asses.”

He smiled a little. “Seriously though, Reese. It was a very thoughtful gesture, and I could tell it really meant a lot to my staff. So…thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The earnestness in his voice made her heart do a weird fluttering thing. Gazing at him, she blurted impetuously, “I think you’re amazing.”

Something soft flickered in his dark eyes.

Her face flushed, and she hastened to elaborate. “I mean, uh, the way you interact with your crew is amazing. You guys have such amazing chemistry. Cohesion. It was like watching a beautifully choreographed ballet—except with noise and shooting flames from a grill.”

Michael chuckled. “I don’t think anyone’s ever put it quite that way before.”

“No?” She grinned. “Maybe I
should
be a restaurant critic.”

They looked at each other, then laughed. Reese marveled that they could find humor in something that had nearly led to bloodshed just a week ago.

“Hey,” she said, struck by a sudden realization. “I ate here for the first time last Tuesday!”

“I know.” Michael smiled lazily at her. “I thought you’d remember that when I told you Tuesdays were slow.”

She grinned ruefully. “I wasn’t thinking about that. I was too busy trying to weasel my way out of leaving the house.”

“Aren’t you glad I didn’t let you?”

“I am. I thoroughly enjoyed myself tonight. Being able to watch you guys at work was a real treat. And speaking of treats, everything was absolutely delicious, Michael. The bourbon-glazed pork tenderloin was to die for. And that Kahlua mousse made by your pastry chef was divine. I have to get the recipe.”

Michael chuckled drily. “Considering that Gerard has a crush on you, he’d probably give you any recipe you wanted. In all the years he’s worked here, I’ve never seen him make a special dessert for anyone.”

Reese sighed. “After one taste of that mousse, I think I fell a little in love myself.”

“Well, hell, if
that’s
all it takes, wait till you try my triple chocolate cheesecake.”

“Mmmm.” She gave him a demure smile. “Are you trying to make me fall in love with you, Michael?”

His gaze darkened. “Maybe I am.”

Reese stared at him, her heart thudding.

Slowly, one by one, he removed his feet from the table and sat up in the chair.

She didn’t know who moved first.

It must have been her, for the next thing she knew, she was straddling his lap as they kissed deeply and feverishly. She locked her fingers behind his nape and sucked his lush bottom lip into her mouth, making him groan hoarsely. He shoved her flirty summer skirt up her thighs and ran his hands up to her hips, where he held her tightly against his raging erection. She moaned and writhed desperately against him.

Breaking the kiss, he yanked off her halter top and deftly unfastened the front hook of her bra. Her full breasts spilled into his hands, her nipples already distended with arousal. He made a feral sound deep in his throat and cupped her, massaging and caressing.

She cried out with shocked pleasure as his mouth came down to suck in a nipple. Heat pooled between her legs.

Abruptly he surged to his feet and lifted her onto the high table. She spread her thighs eagerly and he stepped between them. She shrugged off her bra, let it fall away.

Gazes locked, they both attacked the knotted buttons on his chef’s jacket. There were double rows of them. Way too damn many. Reese cursed in frustration, her fingers fumbling in her urgency to get at his skin. Even with his own hands flying over the buttons with practiced efficiency, it wasn’t fast enough for her.

“Hurry,” she pleaded in a breathless, lusty voice she hardly recognized as her own.

“Hurry.”

Michael laughed, dark and wicked.

She crooned with exhilaration as he tore the jacket off his broad shoulders and tossed it aside. Seeing that he wore a white T-shirt underneath, she scowled at yet another barrier. Together she and Michael tugged the shirt up and over his head. And then he was on display for her, his wide, powerful chest ridged with muscle beneath glorious mahogany skin. In helpless fascination, she ran her hands over him, her fingers grazing the intricate tattoo that curled around his muscled bicep. He watched her through heavy-lidded eyes, a faint tremor passing through him as she slowly traced the ink outline of Greek letters.

He lowered his head and took her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss, whispering, “I love the way you touch me.”

“And I love to touch you,” she whispered back.

He groaned, his eyes glittering with fierce arousal as he pushed her skirt out of the way. She raised her hips a little as he pulled her panties down over her hips and off her legs. She watched as he brought the scrap of black lace to his nose and inhaled, his eyes rolling closed as he savored her scent. It was
such
an erotic gesture that she nearly came out of her skin, her blood heated so fast.

He set her panties down on the table, as if he wanted to keep them within easy reach. Holding her gaze, he trailed his middle finger up her inner thigh, leaving a path of scorched nerve endings. She gasped as he stroked her clitoris, which was as hard and erect as her nipples. He didn’t taunt her this time about the hot river of need that flowed between her thighs. Tonight wasn’t about scoring points.

Tonight was about heeding raw animal instinct.

Reese didn’t want a gentle seduction. She wanted hard, fast pounding, a driving rhythm that would quench the fire raging in her blood. And she knew that this man could—

and
would
—deliver.

She went for his belt at the same time he did, their fingers tangling in their haste to get him unbuckled and unzipped. She shoved down his dark trousers and briefs, gasping as his penis sprang free. It was impressively long, thick and hard. The swollen head glistened with pre-come, and a solitary vein bulged beneath the granite-smooth dark skin. It was the most beautiful thing Reese had ever seen. Her loins contracted in hungry response.

But before she could reach down to stroke him, he dug inside his pants pocket and fished out his wallet. She almost sobbed with relief when she saw the flash of a foil packet.

He ripped it open with his teeth and quickly smoothed the condom over his erection. She moaned and shamelessly rubbed her hips against him, desperate to have him inside her.

She’d waited long enough, past the point of endurance.

As he dragged her to the very edge of the table, she wrapped her arms around his neck and clamped her thighs around his hips. They stared into each other’s eyes as he slid slowly into her. She cried out at the exquisite fullness of him, stretching her as he seated himself to the hilt.

A shudder ripped through his big body and he groaned. Bracing his arms on either side of her on the table, he closed his eyes in an expression of unadulterated ecstasy.

Reese tightened her thighs around him, savoring the profound intimacy of the moment. A moment unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.

Slowly his eyes opened and he began moving inside her, a deep, languorous glide that heightened her anticipation and promised unspeakable pleasures. She moaned and gripped his shoulders, her fingertips digging into the hard pad of muscle.

As his strokes deepened, he stared into her eyes with a burning ferocity that intensified the ache in her womb.

“I knew it’d be this way between us,” he whispered thickly. “We both knew it the moment we saw each other for the first time.”

Reese could only manage a whimper, beyond any and all rational thought.

Soon the tempo of his thrusts increased, sending her breasts bouncing up and down.

He bent, sucking them into his mouth in hot, greedy pulls. She mewled and ground her pelvis against his, her nails raking his broad back. He raised his head and seized her lips.

They kissed in raw urgency, their mouths fusing, tongues twining. She was frantic with need, a slave to his masterful possession of her body. He owned her, and he knew it.

He grasped her bottom and lifted her off the table, forcing her to absorb the full impact of his heavy body pounding into hers. Over his shoulder, she caught sight of his taut, round butt in a mirror on the opposite wall. The image of his muscles clenching and unclenching as he thrust into her was something straight out of her most erotic fantasies.