Deep Autumn Heat (22 page)

Seb recovered more quickly than Lexie. As the room came back into focus, he realized that once again, he’d gotten off target. He was less surprised than he should have been. This had been happening a lot where Lexie was concerned. He
had
wanted to actually speak to her, but he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off her long enough to have an intelligent conversation, let alone an intelligent thought.

What he wanted was to tell her that he was truly serious about starting a relationship with her, and that despite her suspicions, he had no ulterior motives. He knew all too well what his reputation was like. She probably thought him incapable of monogamy. Hell, he used to think that, too. But he hadn’t so much as thought of another woman since meeting Lexie. He’d never felt like this before. Unfortunately, he didn’t know how to explain that to her.

He smoothed down Lexie’s hair and gently stroked her back. Then, cognizant of the fact that they were both still in various states of undress, he pulled her skirt down to cover her legs. After she was decent, he tugged up his pants. Then he clasped her face in his hands and kissed her.

Unlike the ravenous way they’d devoured each other only moments before, this kiss was gentle. He took his time, smoothing his lips over her swollen ones.

“Sometime soon,” he said, looking pointedly at Lexie, “we’re going to talk. Really talk. But for now, I think we’ve had enough. Let me take you home.”

Lexie swallowed and nodded.

He lifted her off the counter, and a look of consternation flicked across her face as she began to blush. “My panties—”

Seb looked down. Scraps of black lace and satin curled on the floor next to her feet. He swept them up in his hand. “I’ll buy you another pair, Spice. I just couldn’t wait.” He kissed her soundly. “And neither could you.” Lexie’s blush grew deeper. “Come on. I’ll drive you home. Where are your keys?” He wrapped an arm around her and began to walk, steering her toward the door.

Lexie stopped in her tracks and looked at him suspiciously. “Wait. If you drive me home,
how are you going to get back here?”

Seb kissed her again and laughed. “Who says I’m coming back?”

* * *

Lexie woke the next morning feeling warm, well rested, and pleasantly achy. She stretched gently, trying not to wake the man who was lying next to her—a certain well-known chef with bedroom eyes and magic hands.

Last night had been unbelievable. After their interlude in the kitchen—she made a mental note to disinfect the countertop on Tuesday morning—they’d returned to Lexie’s house and made love well into the night. They hadn’t spoken further about their relationship. Lexie was still feeling too raw to handle that, and Seb clearly understood. She appreciated that he hadn’t pushed her.

Still, the promise he’d made—that they
would
eventually talk—resonated in her brain.

She glanced over at Sebastian’s slumbering form. For once, she wasn’t in a hurry to get anywhere. Or to get away from him. She took the opportunity to fully study him.

He was stretched out on his stomach, head resting atop two pillows, his face turned toward her. His jet-black hair was tousled and it provided a sharp, pleasing contrast to the white of the linens. Long black eyelashes lay on his pronounced cheekbones, and his nose, prominent without being overly large, was half buried in the pillow, as were his lush, full lips.

Her gaze moved down his broad, bare shoulder, following his arm—with its bulging bicep—to where it disappeared under the pillow. Then she slid her gaze across his back, half-covered by the sheet, over his well-formed buttocks and down his long, long legs.

He was beautiful, if you could call a man beautiful. Seb was exactly that, which is probably how he’d gotten so far in life. Start with a heap of talent. Add a cup of good looks, a pinch of good timing, and a handful of hubris. Mix and voilà! Instant celebrity.

Yet he didn’t act like that around her. Well, the cocky part, yes, but the celebrity part, no.
Once he’d figured out that she didn’t care about his fame in the slightest, he’d stopped playing that part. But he still swaggered around her restaurant as if he owned the place, and had claimed her with the ferocity of a man who knew he was on top.

Lexie sighed softly. It was official. She was hooked on Sebastian. Had it been this fast with Frank? No, it hadn’t. It had taken a few months before Frank had gotten under her skin. They’d been housemates, then friends, then lovers. He’d manipulated her from day one, and she hadn’t even realized it. Once they’d had sex, it had clouded things even more.

With Seb, it had taken what, a day, max, before he’d kissed her outside the LMK? That kiss. That devastating kiss. The one that still made her toes curl in memory. With only his body he’d outright declared—no, demanded—that she yield to him.

And she had, eventually. Oh, boy, had she ever!

She shook her head. Was this all it took for her now? Hot sex with an even hotter man to make her forget what had happened to her before? She didn’t
want
to forget the lessons she’d learned from Frank. She didn’t
want
to trust a man just because he made her body sing. It took time—more than a week or a month—to establish a firm relationship. She didn’t intend to make the same mistake twice. Especially not with a heartbreaker like Sebastian Grayson.

But when he completely enveloped her body in his, when he took her to heights she’d never imagined, not even in her dreams? The feel of his hard body pressed up against hers made her want to forget about everything but him.

God, she was weak.

But Seb was different. He hadn’t pushed her to open up to him emotionally, while Frank had demanded it. Demanded she tell him her every move, her every secret, her every need. And then he’d used them against her.

Seb was content to let things progress naturally. At first, she’d suspected it was because he himself didn’t want to be tied down, but she was beginning to realize that he was doing it out of respect and understanding. He knew she was still hurting, and he wanted her to feel comfortable with him.

And that meant he liked her. Enough to keep her safe, even from himself.

And then another realization hit her. One that rocked her to the core.

With that one kind gesture, she’d fallen for a womanizing bad boy with too much talent and too little humility.

Just then, Lexie felt another sensation. As if she were being watched. With mounting awareness, she turned back to Seb.

Who was fully awake and watching her.

“Going somewhere?” Sebastian asked casually. Even though he spoke the words calmly, his huge body tensed, belying his cool façade.

Lexie cleared her throat before speaking. “No, not yet.” She saw him visibly relax.

“Good.”

“Good?” Was he going to press her to talk?

“Yes, good. I’m making you breakfast this morning.”

“All right,” she said, happy he wasn’t going to press her. “I’m game. What do you have in mind?”

“It depends on what ingredients you have in your kitchen.”

“And in the garden.”

Seb looked pleased. “You keep a garden?”

“Yes, out back. I grow herbs, root vegetables, and New England staples like pumpkin, zucchini, and other squash.”

“Well, I’ll have to throw on some clothes and take a look.”

“Garden shears and spades are hanging by the back door if you want to take anything. I have some eggs, too, and some milk.”

“All right,” Seb said. “I can do something with that.”

Fifteen minutes later, Seb was showered, dressed, and out the door. While she prepared for her own shower, Lexie heard him shuffling along the garden path, whistling a classic rock tune she’d long forgotten. She wasn’t surprised that he liked that kind of music. It seemed to fit him. She tiptoed to the back door and snuck a peek at Sebastian. He was grinning as he snipped herbs and dug up some of her vegetables. He glanced around, as if to see if anyone was watching, then crouched to his knees, bent his face to the ground, and inhaled deeply. He looked
like he was in heaven. Quickly, so he wouldn’t catch her watching, she crept away, smiling to herself at his exuberance.

As she took a leisurely shower, Lexie wondered if Seb would be able to find everything he needed in her kitchen. Then she realized that he was a professional chef who could probably find his way around
anyone’s
kitchen. Funny: she’d spent so much time thinking of him as a man that she’d almost forgotten.

She knew he was extremely well respected in the industry, and that everyone expected him to do great things with his career. But she’d never been to his restaurant or even eaten any of his food besides his competition crab cakes. After his new show was taped and aired, he’d be so popular that she probably wouldn’t even be able to get a reservation at Helena. The thought made her laugh.

She finished up her shower, then slipped on a pair of worn blue jeans and a black long-sleeved T-shirt and padded to the kitchen.

Seb was there, and as she stepped over the threshold and into the room, he gave her a look so intense it made her simmer.

“Beautiful garden,” he said.

Lexie smiled. “Thanks. I had one in California and I needed to have one here, too.”

“Do you use any of the produce at your restaurant?”

“Mostly the herbs. I’d need a huge garden to keep up with my vegetable demand, and I don’t have the time to tend to a garden of that size while running the business. So I compromise.”

“I wish I had a garden,” Seb said, almost wistfully. “I have to buy my produce at Union Square,” he said, referring to the farmers’ market in Manhattan. “Or get it delivered. It’d be such a treat to just walk outside and pick what I need.”

“I think a lot of people feel that way, but I know very few chefs on the East Coast who are able to pull it off. It’s much more prevalent on the West Coast. Look at Thomas Keller, for one.”

“He’s done amazing things in Napa. I was happy when he opened his restaurant in New York. Have you been there?”

“To Per Se?” Lexie laughed. “No. Way too rich for my blood. But I’ll make it there someday.”

“Maybe you will,” he said with a secret smile.

Lexie didn’t know what the smile meant, so she changed the subject. “What are you making for me?”

The corners of Seb’s eyes crinkled up. “I saw you had some mushrooms in your fridge, so I’m using those to make Eggs Waldorf, a New York regional twist on Eggs Benedict, with a potato leek hash.”

“Sounds incredible. Almost as good as the egg on toast Buster makes me every morning at the LMK,” Lexie said teasingly. To her pleasure, Sebastian rose to the bait.

“Spice, this is going to be a damned sight better than an egg on toast. Eggs Waldorf is a Sebastian Grayson specialty. People pay top dollar for this at Helena and you’re getting it for free.”

Lexie tried not to smile. “I’m getting other things for free, too.”

That
elicited an even stronger response. Seb dropped what he was doing, wrapped his long arms around her, and kissed her passionately. “And that,” he said in a low voice, “is also a Sebastian Grayson specialty.”

Lexie had no tart response to that.

Before long the kitchen was filled with delicious aromas, and then the food was ready to be plated. They sat down together at Lexie’s sun-dappled kitchen table, an old farmhouse slab of wood she’d picked up at an antique sale a couple of years ago.

Lexie looked at Sebastian and realized he was waiting for her to take a bite. She did. The poached egg white was light and airy, and the yolk was wonderfully runny. The mushroom sauce—instead of the typical hollandaise—made an excellent complement to the egg and the toast underneath, which was slowly soaking up the runny yolk and the sauce.

The hash had just the right combination of earthiness, crispiness, and buttery chewiness. It was, for lack of a better word, perfect.

Lexie couldn’t even speak, so she made a little moaning sound in her throat and continued to eat. Seb must have taken her moan in the spirit in which it was intended, because he grinned broadly before turning to his own plate of food.

Lexie had fully finished before she turned to Sebastian.

“I hated it,” she said, deadpan.

“Little liar. You ate every bite.” His tone was hard, but he didn’t seem angry.

“I just don’t want to inflate your ego any more than it already is.”

“You already have, Spice. You did that when you mopped up the rest of the mushroom sauce with an extra piece of toast.” He leaned back in his chair, apparently satisfied. “I like cooking for you. You appreciate everything about a dish, from the way it’s prepared to how it’s presented.”

“Let’s not forget the way it tastes.”

“The most important part, of course. So,” he said, a picture of male grace as he crossed his arms behind his neck and stretched his legs out under the table, “why’d you choose to become a chef?” His gaze met hers evenly, and she didn’t look away.

“I love the idea of bringing things from land to table. I guess I was influenced by the sustainable foods movement, but really, I was always interested in cooking. My parents were really supportive of me. I remember one absolutely awful dish I prepared when I was eight—something involving acorn squash and mayonnaise. They told me it wasn’t one of my best efforts, but they ate it anyway.” She laughed. “I was lucky that they encouraged me to pursue my passion. What about you? Why’d you decide to go into this line of work?”

“Necessity,” he said flatly.

She cocked her head. “Really? I can’t believe that. You have such fire.” Both in the kitchen and out.

He shrugged and studied the ceiling. “Life wasn’t so easy for my mom once my dad died.
With four boys to support and feed on her own, she was stretched pretty thin. I started cooking to help out around the house. Turned out I had a flair for it.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you kept doing it,” Lexie probed. “You dropped out of college to do this. Something was driving you.”

His gaze dropped back to hers, hot and fierce. “I’ll tell you what was driving me: payback. I wanted to make my mark on the world. To have everyone who said I’d never amount to anything sit up and take notice that Seb Grayson, hell-raiser, could raise some hell of his own—and make good doing it.” He swallowed. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”