Deep Autumn Heat (15 page)

The kitchen erupted as a heated argument ensued between Seb’s agent and Babs. Ivana tried in vain to get Eleanor to back off, but she wasn’t budging. Chefs Campton and Trevese edged away from the women. Only Buster stood by them, watching the proceedings with a detached coolness.

“Turn those damn cameras off,” Ivana snapped, waving her hand in front of the camera closest to Seb.

The judgment and the arguing brought Lexie back to reality. She turned to Seb. He was watching things unfold with a bemused smile on his face. He turned and caught her eyes above the fray, then moved his gaze toward the back kitchen door, a clear signal that they should continue their conversation somewhere quieter. She nodded her head in assent. While everyone else was otherwise occupied, Lexie stepped out the back door, Seb close on her heels.

The door swung shut, but before she could give Seb a piece of her mind she felt his strong hands gripping her shoulders. He spun her around, pulled her tightly against his body, and began kissing her as if he was a drowning man and she was a raft.

Once again, Lexie was lost in the sensation of his lips on hers and the feel of his strong hands—one on her back and the other around her waist. Instantly, the physical feelings she’d been suppressing slammed back into her with full force. With the touch of his mouth on hers, he had effectively converted her anger into passion.

“You are so hot when you’re pissed off at me,” Seb whispered huskily between kisses. “I can’t keep my hands off you.”

“I want them on me,” she whispered back truthfully.

Her words obviously struck a chord with him, because he kissed her even more deeply, exploring her mouth with his warm, firm tongue. She couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped her.

Lexie’s mind began to catch up with her body, but she pushed the thoughts aside. She didn’t want to think about the games he was playing—blowing hot, then cold, then hot again. She didn’t care anymore. Their physical attraction was undeniable and she was tired of fighting with him when all she really wanted to do was to feel his big hands on her, caressing her, making her feel like herself again. And every time they touched, her resolve not to get involved with a man—not to get involved with
him
—became weaker.

Lexie pressed up against him, tacitly offering herself—her body—to him. As if he recognized this, Seb slid one of his hands to the edge of her shirt. Slowly, he moved it up underneath to cup her breast over her bra. She felt her nipple peak in his palm and she shivered. Gently he thumbed the tight bud through the fabric, making her burn with desire. He cupped her other breast with his other hand, kneading her softness and circling both nipples in an intoxicating rhythm. While his hands were on her breasts, he kept his mouth busy on her neck, her lips, her face.

She wound her hands through his thick, dark hair, reveling in the feel of its smooth
silkiness between her fingers. He wasn’t the kind of man who’d ever bother with gel or cologne or accessories. What you saw was what you got. Lexie was lost—in time, in feeling, in his strong arms. He slid his hands to her back and began to undo her bra.

It was at that very moment that the sound of a shrill bell sliced through the air.

“What the—” Seb stopped nibbling on Lexie’s neck and jerked his head up. At the same time, he slipped his hands out from under her shirt. He stepped away fast, as if he’d been caught doing something dirty.

“It’s the fire alarm,” Lexie said, suddenly embarrassed. What would have happened if the alarm hadn’t gone off? Where would this have led? She stepped back from Seb and hastily tried to compose herself as best as she could, smoothing down her shirt and straightening her hair.

Seb didn’t seem to notice her discomfort. “We need to go back in to see what’s happened.” He swung the back door open. “What’s going on in here?” he roared as he walked inside. He’d thrown the heavy metal door open with such force that as Lexie stepped in just behind him, it smacked her in the rear end.
Just great
. Still smarting from the thump, it took her a moment to realize that the room was in complete chaos.

Rubbing her bottom, Lexie sized up the issue in an instant. Eleanor Ulner had gotten too close to a still-hot burner on the stovetop, and one of her many scarves had caught on fire. Poor Eleanor was frantically trying to yank it off while Buster was trying to wrestle her to the ground to stamp out the flames. Panicked, she was struggling with him, oblivious to the fact that he was trying to help her.

“Stop, drop, and roll!” Lexie screamed, realizing what was happening. “Stop, drop, and roll!” The phrase must have resonated with the woman, since she finally stopped struggling with Buster and let him guide her to the ground. In mere moments, he had the blaze extinguished. Then he took a long dowel from the pantry and used it to hit a button on the fire alarm. The blaring noise finally stopped.

Stunned into silence, Eleanor finally managed to unwind the scarf from her neck and she threw its charred remnants on the ground in front of her. She stared in horror at the burned silk,
probably imagining what would have happened to her tender flesh if Buster hadn’t come to her aid.

“Thank you for your assistance,” Eleanor said to Buster in a clipped voice. Lexie had to give her some credit. She’d just been set aflame and tackled to the ground, yet she still managed to come off sounding composed.

“Yer welcome,” Buster said gruffly, still holding the dowel.

Lexie sighed with relief. She had Buster to thank for the woman’s narrow escape. The two guest chefs, three cameramen, and Babs were all standing there, looking as sheepish as children who’d been caught with their hands in a cookie jar. Ivana stood off to the side, nervously holding her own throat. Seb looked like his typical self—furious and dangerous.

This was her restaurant and her kitchen, and Lexie had had just about enough for one evening. It was time for her to take charge. “All right, people. We’ve all had a long night.” She picked up someone’s coat from a chair and held it out. “Why don’t you all get ready to drive home. I know you have a long way to go.” It was an implicit invitation for them to leave.

No one said a word, except for Seb, who looked pointedly at her. “We aren’t done, Lexie,” he growled. “I’ll be back.”

Silently, Chef Trevese held out his hand for his coat and put it on. The others followed suit, even Sebastian. Silently, the camera people started packing up. Once everyone was ready to leave, Buster followed them to the front room. Lexie heard the jingle of the front door and then the click of the dead bolt as Buster threw it closed.

When he returned to the kitchen, he said, “I’ll clean up, Lexie. You go home now, you hear?”

“Sure, Buster. Thanks,” she said gratefully. “I … I don’t know how to thank you for all you did tonight.”

“Don’t thank me. I got some bad news for you,” he said.

“What?” she asked.

“The gas line’s been tampered with—I’m sure of it. I’m going to have to cut the gas to
the whole place.”

“Not good, Buster,” she said, wearily. “Is that why Eleanor’s scarf caught fire?”

“Don’t think so. I think that was just an accident. But it’s a good thing it happened. It gave us a chance to catch the leak. Gotta tell you, we’re lucky we had this late-night competition here. If the gas had been left on all night, the whole place could have gone up when I started the grill in the morning.”

“Oh, my God!”

“Hey,” Buster said. “We caught it. Don’t worry. I’ll see if I can fix the problem myself, and if I can’t, I’ll call Luke Bedwin in the morning.”

“But what can I do?” Lexie asked.

“Aside from calling Cole, just go home and get some rest,” he said gently. “You’ve had a long day. I’ll follow you in the truck to make sure you get home safe.”

Nodding gratefully, she left the restaurant and did just that.

Seb was going to kill someone. He just couldn’t decide who. The possibilities were endless. Should he kill Eleanor for wearing that ridiculous scarf? Should he kill the cameramen for standing around doing nothing while his agent practically went up in flames? Should he kill Buster for looking at him with that smug expression, as if he knew exactly what Seb was thinking? Should he kill Ivana for booking him an eight
A.M.
appointment with the Realtor in Boston?

He looked sullenly over at his assistant, who was standing next to him in the third space they’d visited that morning, all of them equally unsuitable. She was closest. Maybe he’d start with her.

“Don’t even think about it,” she said in her cool, well-modulated voice.

Seb pouted and looked to the Realtor.

“Leave her out of it, poor woman,” Ivana said, sotto voce. Seb rolled his eyes. Was Ivana psychic? “I’ll get you a latte after we’re done here.”

She could read his mind, no doubt about it. “Double shot, and you have a deal,” he growled.

“Good. Now pay attention and behave yourself.” She didn’t even crack a smile.

Mercifully, the showing lasted only another fifteen minutes, at which time Ivana smoothly, but politely, excused Sebastian from attending a debriefing back at the Realtor’s office. Instead, they adjourned to a nearby coffee shop, where Ivana immediately procured him a double-shot latte and herself an herbal tea.

She handed his latte down to him in the lounge chair where he was sprawled and watched him take a big sip. Then she carefully arranged her thousand-dollar purse and matching coat on a nearby chair and sat down, crossing one leg over the other. She watched Seb for a few moments
before speaking. “You should just sleep with her and be done with it,” she said bluntly, before taking a sip of her tea.

Sebastian nearly choked on the hot beverage in his mouth. “What?” he exclaimed, sitting more fully upright.

“You heard me,” Ivana said, almost in a bored tone, taking another sip of tea. “Sleep with her. Get her out of your system. Then you can start focusing on your work again.” She eyed him over the rim of her cup.

“I don’t pay you to tell me who I should sleep with,” he said harshly, once again leaning back in his seat.

Ivana didn’t even blink at his hard tone. “No. You pay me to run your business affairs. And you pay me to fix them when they’re not running smoothly. Right now, they’re not. You’re getting complacent.”

“I’m not getting complacent. Why do you think I called in the camera crew for the throw-down last night? You think I’m just sitting around in Star Harbor watching the ships roll in?”

“I’m saying that you need to be on top of your game if you want to make this new restaurant a reality. And once you start the bulk of the taping for your new show, you’re not going to have the time.”

Seb acknowledged her point with a tip of his head. “I agree. Still, my personal life is none of your business.”

Ivana pursed her lips together. “You’re right. I’m sorry if I was out of line.”

“Look, Ivana, I hired you because you’re smart and you’re savvy and I knew you wouldn’t put up with any of my usual crap. I appreciate that about you. But please stick to managing my work life and I’ll handle the rest.”

“I see.”

“You’re very, very good at what you do, you know.”

A smile broke onto her elegant face, causing her cheekbones to bloom. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. So let’s steer clear of my personal life.”

“Okay,” she said firmly, whipping out her notepad, once again all business. “Now, let’s talk about the properties we saw today.” Seb sighed.

* * *

For Lexie, the six days after the cooking competition passed in a blur. She spent almost every waking moment at the LMK cooking, serving customers, or completing the final wedding preparations. Not only did she not have a moment to breathe, but she also didn’t have any time to think about Sebastian Grayson.

The throw-down did have one unforeseen benefit. It had inspired Lexie to step up the preparations for the launch of her catering business, and she’d spent hours creating new recipes and tweaking her existing recipes for bulk preparation. She’d test run some of the new ones at the restaurant. A few of her trusted regular customers had given her positive feedback on both the tarragon crab cakes she’d used in the competition and another new recipe—pumpkin soup with crème fraîche.

She’d even finalized the new company logo with the freelance artist she’d hired. It was a straightforward, no-frills affair: a monogram of LMK in red on a white background with a few artfully embellished squiggles. At least, that’s how it looked to Lexie. She was no artist; the only things she could draw were cakes. That was why she’d paid someone else to do the job.

But Lexie was pleased. She had gotten so much accomplished in such a short period of time that she believed she’d be ready for the “hard” launch of her catering business sometime in the middle of October. She intended to use the Harvest Festival as a launch platform. The whole town would be there, and she’d need the support of both the full-time locals and the summer crowd if she wanted her business to succeed.

Lexie jotted something in the notebook she’d taken to carrying, which was filled with her plans for the catering business. She was still on track to make the “soft” launch the evening of Emma and Jimmy’s wedding. Lexie and her staff were actually starting the initial preparations
for the wedding that night after-hours.

“Lexie!” Isis said. “Sorry to bother you, but some guy’s on the phone for you.”

“It’s okay. I was just finishing up.” Lexie capped her pen and tucked her notebook away. “Thanks for letting me know.” She crossed the kitchen to the old-fashioned wall phone and picked up the receiver that Isis had laid across the top of the phone.

“LMK, Lexie speaking. How can I help you?” There was silence on the other end. “Hello? Hello?” Lexie clicked the receiver hook a few times. “Hello?” She hung up the phone in frustration. “Damned ancient phone. I really need to replace it with a digital one.” She sighed and turned around. “Isis, did the caller say what he wanted?”

“No, he just asked to speak to you. But his voice was weird.”