Bachelor's Special (5 page)

“I know.”

“When I saw you there, I don’t know what happened. You looked so delicate, concentrating on making that damn birthday cake perfect. Your face filled with happiness and confidence surrounded you. And then when the cake fell and you looked so lost…and the tears…I can’t explain it, but I just had to kiss you. I had no idea you’d been let go because of my actions.”

She waved his words away. “I certainly didn’t try to stop you. You caught me by surprise, for sure, but it wasn’t like I didn’t return your kiss.” She chuckled, her embarrassment evident by the red coloring her cheeks. “I’ve never done something so forward.”

“That makes two of us. To know what happened explains a lot.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, after our kiss, I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I went back to the restaurant to apologize and you weren’t there.”

“You did?” Her face softened with a tremor of a smile.

“Nobody would tell me where you’d gone. I just assumed you’d moved up and out.”

“I moved out, for sure.” She forced a laugh, then grew serious. “All of that doesn’t matter now. I pounded the pavement for work, not realizing the restaurant community has no secrets. I thought I’d found the leprechaun at the end of the rainbow when I won out against all the other applicants for sous-chef at Ricardo’s. Chef Manuel, the chef de cuisine, was set to retire, which meant the executive chef would take his spot, and I’d have a chance at his position.”

“That’s right up there?”

“Second in command.” Her eyes sparked with pride.

“So what happened?” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the row of cupboards to concentrate on her words instead of reliving their kisses that clouded his mind.

“Word preceded me about my escapade in the kitchen, and I guess some of the other chefs assumed that my past actions were now part of my job description.” She smiled, but her chin shook. “When that didn’t turn out to be the case, my work was sabotaged and I was fired.”

Chet cringed. He’d become the lowest possible form of life in his own book. He never would have guessed his actions had gotten her fired, and worse yet, marred her reputation to the point she couldn’t find work.

“While at Ricardo’s, I’d received an excellent write-up in
Food Fanatics
magazine, and I foolishly thought that would help me land another job. It did, but I relived the same treatment over again.”

“What if I talk to your boss at Creations and set him straight?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s too late. Word followed me wherever I went and my actions, along with my big mouth, landed me back on the street. I couldn’t even find work as a line cook.”

He furrowed his brow. “Sorry, I guess I’m not getting the soap-opera restaurant world. I thought they’d be more in competition with each other and want an up-and-coming chef. Especially one who’d appeared in
Food Fanatics.
”

“In our town, in the establishments I wanted to work with, they have a friendly competition, but they are all tight. A lot of the chefs are related in some obscure way.” She swiped at the moisture on her cheek.

Damn it. Tears. Should he pretend he didn’t notice, offer her a tissue, or give her a hug? Their kiss came to mind and he pushed it away. He hated these situations. He’d ignore it for now. If she turned into a mass of whimpers and tears, he’d take action.

“But what about the owner, isn’t he the one who has control over hiring and firing?”

“Not in the kitchen, not for chef positions.”

He’d never been so angry. Not that he’d known Jill long, but he could tell she was a good person with integrity, and she shouldn’t have been treated so poorly. Jealousy of her talents probably played a hand in what happened, as well.

Her eyes were rimmed with red. “At the last restaurant I worked, I was informed that a woman getting ahead in a man’s world would need to pay her dues, or go nowhere fast.”

He fisted his hands at his sides. What he wouldn’t give to have one of those so-called men in front of him now. “You could’ve gone to the owner or the authorities. That’s sexual harassment.”

She cleared her throat, then opened her mouth, but nothing came out. With a quick nod she looked down.

Hell, maybe he was more of a pig than he’d thought. He’d been thinking of her in the same light. And his reasons were worse. He studied the top of Jill’s head as she worked her shoe on the floor, and guilt consumed him. Not a feeling he had much experience with. Yes, she was attractive and he’d like nothing more than to feel her sweat-soaked skin rubbing against his, but he wasn’t a snake. Their deal wasn’t finished, but his hidden motives were.

His plan of bedding the beauty stopped now.

“If I had gone to anyone, my career would’ve been more than over; it’d be nonexistent. I love cooking, the art and style of it, the flavor, passion, and—well, everything. I can’t give it up, and I won’t. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. If I can’t find a job at a reputable restaurant, then I’ll go it alone.”

Her passion lit a fire inside of him. “Well, I’m going to help make it happen. Especially since it’s more than partially my fault. If only I’d known—”

“Thanks, Chet. You talking to my boss wouldn’t have changed anything. But I’m glad to know you would have.” She smiled, her lovely lavender eyes shining through the tears wetting her lashes.

Chet understood her will to succeed and be independent. The fervor in her voice when she spoke of cooking, owning her own business, they reminded him of his own dreams. Of how he felt when Castle Engineering, on the verge of bankruptcy, had been handed to him by his father.

“Everything happens for a reason. I’m glad we met.” Her voice trembled.

“True.”

His insides seized. Not with lust, though his attraction still simmered, but now with the added ingredients of respect and admiration. He’d better watch himself because he didn’t want to let the heat between them burn out of control. No way did he want to be compared to those other men who had tried to take advantage of her.

Chapter Six

Chet entered the kitchen to the smell of freshly popped and buttered popcorn. He put his keys in the cupboard. Spending the afternoon with his family was always something he enjoyed, except for today. He’d heard all he needed to hear about Jared and Mel’s upcoming wedding. “What’s going on?”

Jill tossed a piece of popcorn in the air and caught it in her mouth, a large smile parting her lips in triumph. “Sunday night is movie night. Care to join me?”

He looked around at the covered pot on the stove and a ceramic dish on the counter with the remnants of melted butter. “I have microwave popcorn, you know. You didn’t need to go to the extra work.”

“Not a fan. I like the real thing. So, are you in, feel like watching an action flick?”

Chet shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the back of a chair. “What are you watching?”

“I’m in a Bruce Willis kind of mood. How does
Die Hard
sound?” She grabbed another piece of popcorn, and instead of tossing it into the air, popped it between her lips.

She stood before him in her well-worn, fuzzy pink slippers, pink pajama pants featuring a yellow bunny covering his mouth, and a matching shirt that read
Happy Bunny hates mornings.
She looked damn adorable. But he could do the friendship thing, and this was the perfect time to prove it to himself. “Sounds good.”

“How was your Sunday lunch with the family?” Jill poured a second glass of soda with ice and handed it to him before they made their way to the theater.

“Nothing new, except for my mom and Jared arguing about the wedding. Mom wants a huge affair, and at this point Jared is threatening to elope.” Chet laughed.

“And Mel?”

“Isn’t saying a word.”

“But Mel thrives on words.” Jill plopped into an oversized reclining theater chair and kicked up the foot rest.

“She is wisely letting Jared handle Mom.” Chet couldn’t help but smile. Their talk the other night had really helped. Jill seemed so relaxed now, and he liked that she could be at ease in his home, and especially around him.

She handed him the remote. “Here, I know guys like the power.”

“Only if we’re flicking through the stations.” He grinned, placing his cup in the holder and settling into his seat.

When Chet started the movie, the lights grew dim. Jill placed the popcorn bowl on her thigh so that it was propped against the arm rest and easily reached by both of them. From the corner of his eye, he watched as she repeatedly tossed pieces into the air, then caught each one in her mouth, never taking her eyes from the screen.

“You never miss.”

“Huh?” Jill managed around a mouthful of popcorn as she turned toward him.

“The popcorn. How the hell do you do that? You’re not even paying attention, yet you can throw it into the air and catch it every time.”

“Years of practice. Don’t tell me you can’t do it?” She jabbed him in the bicep with her elbow.

“I’ve never really tried.”

She turned in her seat, forgetting the movie. “What type of childhood did you have?”

Chet laughed, deep and from the gut. Something he found he did quite often with Jill. “I guess it wasn’t a good one if I haven’t mastered the art of popcorn catching.”

“Almost abusive.” She chuckled, throwing another kernel in the air and crunching it between her teeth.

“Show off.”

“Whiner.”

“Let’s put that to the test.” He grabbed a fistful of popcorn.

“Are you challenging me?” Her smile lit up the dim room.

“You betcha. Loser has to cook the winner a steak dinner on the grill.”

“With all the fixings. Corn, salad, garlic bread, and baked ’tato.” Even in the near darkness he witnessed the sassy rise of one fine eyebrow.

“Done.” He held out his free hand and they shook on it.

He nailed the first shot—
barely
—catching the popcorn in the corner of his mouth.

“Lucky.” Jill tossed her piece high, closed her eyes, and caught it between her teeth.

“Show off.”

She shrugged. “More like experience.”

After several minutes and no misses, Jill laughed outright. “Okay, I think you’re a liar.”

“No way.” He tossed up two pieces and caught them both, almost choking at the wide-eyed expression she shot him.

“Okay, you want to play?” Jill tossed up three pieces. The first and second piece landed dead center in her mouth, but the third ricocheted off the tip of her nose and bounced back in the bowl. She glanced from the bowl to meet his grin. “Uh, do we get a freebie?”

“Although I’d like to say yes, that wasn’t an agreed-upon term before we started.”

“I think you’re counting your lucky stars right now, and you’re too chicken to add a new rule. Come on, Chet, we each get a freebie.” Her good humor echoed in each word as she tilted her head, giving him puppy eyes.

“My mother didn’t raise a fool. I’m not risking my win. Looks like you cook steak with all the trimmings.”

“Beginner’s luck.
If
this was actually the beginning for you.” Skepticism crossed her face in mock seriousness before she broke out in a smile.

Chet hadn’t enjoyed himself with a woman like this before. The last female friend he’d had who he could laugh and joke with was way back in middle school. And even then their conversation hadn’t flowed this easily. In some respects he could be himself more around Jill than with one of his buddies.

“How about we cook together?”

“Are you taking pity on me?” Jill settled back in her seat, her focus on the screen, but her humor still showing by the twitch of her lip.

“Never. I’m trying to put things in my favor yet again by finagling a cooking lesson at the same time I’m getting a steak dinner.”

Jill laughed, and the sound bounced off the walls of the small theater. Her laughter was contagious and soothing at the same time. He couldn’t help but join in.

“Chet Castle, I like how you think.”

“And I like how you cook. So I’m glad you lost.” He nudged her shoulder with his, then sank down into his seat, smiling as they returned their attention to the movie.

Chapter Seven

Three nights later, Jill had the kitchen humming. Pots were filled with an array of sauces, vegetables, and meats. In her element and in control, power pushed adrenaline through her body. As long as she could keep thoughts of Chet’s warm lips away and forget the feel of his hands caressing her skin.

Stop it!
After their movie night she’d congratulated herself for keeping Chet in the boss/friend zone.

She tossed the fantasies from her mind. Ever since their latest kiss—
hell, be honest with yourself, ever since the first—
her thoughts had drifted to him at all hours, minutes, seconds of the day. To the point of insanity. Enough.

Jeez, he’s just a man.
Okay, a super-hot, sexy man with lips made for kissing and fingers that pleased.

Shivers crossed her flesh from head to toe. She moved through the kitchen with quick steps, pinching the tender skin of her wrist to bring herself to focus.

The clock showed six, and guests were due to arrive in less than thirty minutes. So far, the timing for all the dinner courses was perfect. She stirred the mango sauce one last time, tapped the spoon on the edge of the saucepan, then leaned back with a sigh. The bubble glass on the counter filled with her favorite red wine caught her eye. Time for a quick break and a well-deserved treat.

Though she still didn’t know that much about Chet—his favorite foods, his passions, exactly what he did for a living besides being a businessman—she’d gained a new respect for him. She did know he woke early, stayed up late, and worked hard with a demanding schedule.

Tonight, one of the charities he worked with had five representatives coming to dinner. According to the schedule, it was a children’s hospital—something to do with radiology.

The buzzer on the stove let her know the chicken needed to be glazed. One last swallow of wine, then back to work. She opened the oven and the aroma filled the room. Jill brushed the last of the mango glaze over the roasting chicken just as Chet walked into the kitchen.

Could he get any sexier?
Jill lost hold of the oven door and it banged shut. His head jerked in her direction, his concentration broken.

“Sorry.”

“I’m sure it’ll survive.” He grinned, and she tried to return one of her own, not sure if she succeeded. Her whole face had gone numb.

Damn, he was hot. His tanned, freshly shaven skin shined from his recent shower. Dark hair slicked over his head, drawing focus to his deep-set eyes. His pressed jacket accented his broad shoulders, the muscles beneath working as he tugged at his sleeves. The dinner at Chet’s home was black tie, at the request of the head of radiology’s wife. Formal dresses for the two women attending and tuxedos for the men.

Jill wiped her hands down the full-body apron tied loosely over her vintage black and white houndstooth halter dress. Talk about self-conscious, she felt like an underdressed teen at her first formal. Of course the apron didn’t help. At least she wasn’t required to sit down and eat with Chet’s guests. She’d have to start downing peppermint tea and sucking on candies now if she wanted to keep her nervous stomach under control.

The last time she’d been this close to a man dressed in a tux had been her second forced exit in a matter of months. Her elbow had been gripped by the fierce chef de cuisine on her way out the back door of La Elegance. The man in the tux had been the ma
î
tre d’ sneaking a smoke in the back alley.

“You look…great.” Not that he needed confirmation, but she couldn’t resist saying the words aloud.

“Thanks.”

Their eyes met. Warmth permeated her skin as he inspected her. She turned away to lower the flame underneath the soup while the flame in her belly grew in intensity.

“How are you settling in?” His gravelly voice lent an air of intimacy to the room, sending her pulse into overdrive.

“Great. I feel a bit guilty. Like I’m on a mini vacation.” Breathless, she wished their conversation would end, or the guests would arrive, or something would burn to divert her attention.

“How’s that?”

“Well…um…cooking doesn’t fill my whole day. Not that I’m complaining.” She chuckled. The heat that crept over her face had nothing to do with the stove’s temperature. “I’m already forming a pool habit after lunch, followed by a visit to the sauna.”

“Good. At least someone gets use of them.”

“I’m not sure why, but I’m a bit nervous.” Unable to face the stove indefinitely, fidgeting with buttons and knobs, she turned toward him. Mistake. He stood leaning against the counter, arms folded, and his bone-melting smile in place. The white of his cuffs showed off his long, dark fingers. Shivers skidded across her flesh as she recalled how those fingers had cradled her head when they’d kissed.

“No reason to be. As usual, it smells wonderful in here. The dishes I’ve tasted have been out of this world. You’re very talented.”

“Thank you. I’ve just never cooked for such a select group before. It’s almost like it’s more important than cooking for hundreds of diners.” With nervous fingers, she erased invisible wrinkles on her apron. “Of course, I better get used to it if I’m going to run my own catering business.”

“That intimate flare.” He waggled his eyebrows.

She chuckled, tension falling off her back in layers.

“No fears, this is a very lax group,” he said.

“You wouldn’t guess it by the way you’re dressed.”

“Ah, get a society woman involved and everyone’s dressed to the nines. As a matter of fact, I was going to ask if you wanted to join us for dinner. It’d give you a chance to mingle. You’d be better engrained in their memories if they could match your face with your skills. You know, for future jobs.”

She untied the loose belt of her apron, only to refasten it with a tight tug around her hips. “Thanks, but no.” She wasn’t prepared to make small talk with a group of highly educated men and women. “I’m not dressed for it; besides I’m just a cook.”

“You look wonderful.”

For an instant his compliment whisked a ribbon of heat through her veins, but she quickly came to her senses. What a liar. Her outfit in no way compared to how she expected his guests would look.

“And you’re not just a cook, you’re a chef.” He kissed the tips of his fingers in an exuberant fashion, pulling them from his lips in a large arc.

“Okay, I have the culinary skills, but the school in New York didn’t go over table manners and etiquette unless you were serving.”

“Don’t tell me I’ve discovered something where the infallible Jill Adgate lacks confidence?”

Damn, either the temperature in the kitchen had increased times ten, or the attraction level she kept trying to squash had jumped into the triple digits.

“I admit nothing.”

“Jill, we’re all average people.”

“Not from where I’m standing.”

“You have no problem holding a conversation.”

Yeah, only when it’s between two, as in me and you
. Instead she said, “Only about mundane issues. Nothing scientific like what you’ll be discussing with a room full of radiologists or whatever they are.”

He laughed. “Hate to disappoint you, but we probably won’t discuss business until after dinner. Over coffee on the back deck. Dinner talk usually
is
mundane issues.” He winked, then rubbed his temples in deliberate circles, eyelids growing heavy as if in a trance. “And according to my psychic abilities, I think talk will turn to your delicious foods.”

When he mentioned psychic, he opened his eyes and they shared another secret smile. Her belly spun. She’d get addicted to those bonding smiles if she didn’t watch herself.

Living with someone created a whole new sense of intimacy she hadn’t expected. Part of her liked it, and the other part feared it. Getting caught up in unrealistic thoughts about getting down and dirty with Chet—her boss—wouldn’t do.

“How did you end up schooling in New York? We have some great culinary schools right here in Michigan.” He stood before the side door, adjusting his tie in the panes of glass that acted as a faux mirror.

“Scholarship. I went where the money was being given.” She busied herself by grabbing an oven mitt so she wasn’t spellbound by watching his hands—his strong, capable hands—work the material of his collar around his tie. She opened the broiler.

“Hmmm, we have a lot in common.”

“Yeah, how’s that?”

“I made my school choice based on the same reason.”

Her task of turning the roasted vegetables in the broiler ceased. “You needed a scholarship?” How could someone this rich need a scholarship? Better yet, how’d they qualify to receive one? She closed the broiler and turned to face him.

“I worked my way through college, applied for every scholarship I could, won some, lost others.”

“You mean you didn’t…” It’s not like she could ask him if he’d always been filthy, stinking rich. Could she? Yes, she was blunt, but that seemed to cross the line.

“—always have money?”

Okay, now he finished her sentences. So not good. “I just assumed.” At least it explained his earlier remark about the cars he’d driven in college.

“You know what they say about assuming.”

She laughed, outright. Great, now he could put her at ease
and
make her laugh. Except when he was being sexy—which seemed to be the norm—her comfort level around him was something she’d never felt with anyone else. Well, she was at ease with Mel and her family. But Chet was a stranger, or at least he used to be up until a few days ago.

“My family owns Castle Engineering, started by my great-grandfather. When my dad inherited the company, it was fighting to stay afloat because he’d allowed a couple of partners into the fold. By the time I took control it was on the verge of closing.”

“You’re kidding?”

“No. Those two partners cared more about investing in bad business deals with Castle’s capital than moving our company into the twenty-first century. I bought them out and brought the business back to life. It’s now bigger than ever.”

She’d known he’d brought the business back into the black, but she hadn’t realized they’d been so far in the red that they were on the verge of closing.

“I Googled Castle Engineering. The man, the business, and the future.” She chuckled, a sudden wave of nerves rolling through her.

An arched eyebrow shot up. “And?”

Jill leaned against the stove with one hip, stirred the soup that would begin tonight’s three courses, and tried to appear nonchalant. “From what I read, you were the driving force behind some X-ray gadget thingamajiggy.”

Do I sound as dorky as I feel?
Jeez, she should wire her mouth shut. She tapped the spoon on the pan’s edge, harder than she’d intended, sending splatters across the front of her apron and the stove top.

“Blame it on Grandma. When my mom’s mother became ill, she had to undergo several tests. A lot of the exams involved X-rays. It concerned me that she might be getting too much radiation.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. But she’s still kicking and enjoying her days at the senior center. As a matter of fact, she was the one last year celebrating her eightieth.” He grabbed the bar towel she’d flung over her shoulder and dabbed her cheek. “You have a spot.”

Her body quivered at his touch, and she tilted her head back as if inviting his lips. His breath fanned her face, and she twisted to the side, disgusted with her own weakness.

“I’m glad your grandmother is…” Her voice became a husky whisper. The force of her desire overwhelmed her.
Oh my God, I need therapy.

She pulled the towel from his hand, wiping up the mess on the stove.

“Anyway, at the time I was anxious. Another engineer took me out for a few beers and we got to talking about radiation levels and how it’d be a benefit to patients and doctors if they could regulate the amounts being taken in.”

“So over a few beers you had an epiphany?”

He shot her a lopsided grin, and she butted her knees together so she could remain upright. Incredible that listening to him talk about work turned her on. Maybe it was the excitement in the sparkle of his eyes. Or the gravelly sound of his voice.

“We came up with an idea for a receptor that can be added to a digital X-ray machine. Took a few years to get the prototype and the actual project approved, but we did it. This device is more sensitive and will adjust the amounts of radiation used to make an image, so patients have less exposure.”

She moved to throw the soiled towel in the sink, and to get away from his intoxicating nearness. “So that explains why all the hospitals clamor for your company.”

“At this point I’m practically an honorary doctor.” He winked again, and her heart fluttered.

Jill chuckled. Her vegetables would match her squishy insides if she didn’t pay closer attention to her job instead of this man. From where she stood, his lopsided smiles and winks appeared flirtatious. And she kind of liked it. Well…more than kind of.

“I read that you’re working on more medical gizmos?” She pulled the broiler door open and placed the vegetables on a serving plate.

“I didn’t intend to work exclusively in medical, I just wanted to help my grandmother. But I’ve found I enjoy it. Right now we’re developing equipment that can be scaled down in size to use with children. Make things smaller, more refined, and delicate to fit a child’s body so that it’s not so intimidating for them to be in a room with a huge piece of equipment looming over them.”

Oh God, he probably climbed trees to save cats, too.
Let’s see, attractive, funny, smart, worried about kids, and loves his grandmother
. “You’re incredible.”

He laughed, the delicious sound rolling over her skin. “It’s not like I do it alone. It’s a team effort.”

She needed to break their connection or she would drown in his intent, smoldering eyes. Turning to pull some serving plates from the cupboard, she could feel the warmth of his eyes along her back. The knowledge that he studied her put a swing into her hips as she walked to the oven to remove the chicken.

Ugh, maybe Mel was right. I need to get laid.
But at the moment there was only one man to fill the bill, and he was the one she should be avoiding if she didn’t want to lose her job again—not to mention what little was left of her rep.