Love at First Bite (Book 1 Just a Little Taste Series) (6 page)

He slowly lowered his mouth to her pussy and licked. He nearly came again, just from her taste. She was exquisite. She groaned. He raised up slightly making sure she was still asleep. Forcing himself away, he slipped out the door. She groggily opened her eyes and rolled over on the bed.
God, what a dream,
she thought, before slipping back into a deep sleep.

Chapter Four

She awoke to the sun rising and the luxurious feel of a great orgasm. She blushed, realizing her panties were almost all the way off.
I've done it again, apparently,
she sighed.
God, I bet it would be better if Jeremy did it.
She got up and got dressed in a comfortable tee and shorts.

She tiptoed downstairs to make coffee and start breakfast. He slipped up behind her as she pulled eggs out of the refrigerator. “Good morning, Sasha.”

She squawked in shock and dropped eggs all over the floor. “Damn it, don't sneak up on me!” He grinned sheepishly and brushed his shaggy hair out of his face. Was it her imagination or did he look like he hadn't slept?
Maybe he was having sex dreams too,
she mused.

“I'm sorry, Cupcake. Looks like I made a mess. What if I told you that we could be having brunch in New York City today?” He leaned back on the counter.

She looked at him like he'd grown a second head on his shoulders. “New York City? Brunch? For what? How?”

He held up a finger, “New York City, because they have some of the best foods in the world.” He put up a second finger. “Brunch, because why not?” He held up a third finger, “Because I feel like heading to New York today.” He held up a fourth finger, “And we'll get there by the car coming for us in about an hour, followed by a private jet. If you'd like to go with me, that is. Did that cover all of your questions?”

She blinked slowly. “I can't just take off to New York.” She turned and began cleaning up the eggs on the floor.

He folded his arms across his chest. “Why not? Haven't you ever just lived a little?”

She shot him a dirty look. “I live plenty. But I can't just take off and not tell my family.”

He nodded. “Of course not. You can call them on the way to the airport.”

She sighed. “You don't get it. I can't just go.”

He shrugged and shook his head. “Why not?”

She huffed. “Because, my mom might need me.”

He shook his head and smiled. “No, she won't. Because she now has a home care nurse on call, if needed, along with one of the best Lyme doctors in the country on retainer. Also, don't worry about your sisters either. They got a scholarship last night, so you are off the hook. Free to do as you please, how you please, when you please. Isn't that what you wanted?”

Her eyes glistened with tears. “Why did you do all that? I had it under control, damn it.”

He brushed her hair back and smiled, “Because I've never met someone I admire quite as much as you and I wanted to give you a gift so you can relax and enjoy life. You deserve that.” He started walking out of the kitchen and said over his shoulder, “Leave the eggs, go get dressed and get your bags packed. We're heading out!”

She was pretty sure she'd dropped into some kind of paranormal sci-fi fairy tale with an incredibly hunky leading man. She pinched herself. It hurt. She wasn't dreaming. She went upstairs and picked out some clothes, stuffing the rest in the bags they had been delivered in. She mechanically got dressed and went down stairs with her bags, where vampy-wolf Prince Charming took her bags and ever so charmingly smiled, as he ushered her out the door to the shiny black limo waiting for them.

He smiled at her as he got in the limo. “Got everything packed?” She nodded and chewed at her  thumbnail. “Are you okay?” She smiled at him, saccharine sweet, and nodded again. He narrowed his eyes. “Spill. What's up?”

She took a shaky breath. “It's just overwhelming. A lot to deal with. I've never had anyone do anything for me. I don't know how to handle not being in control.”

He smiled, tapping his fingers on the leather seat. “But, Sasha, you ARE in control. More in control of your life than you've ever been. You get to choose your salary. You get to travel with me, anywhere I go. Your mom and sisters are taken care of. If you can't see it as a gift, see it as a bonus for your job. You get to pretty much cook as you want and be on constant vacation. You get to live how you want, for as long as you choose to do so. No expectations.”

She thought on this for a minute. “No expectations?”

He smiled at her. “No expectations.” He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. “Here, call who you need to. We should have signal now.” He pulled an iPad out of his bag and began playing a game.

She blinked and dialed her mother's number. Her mother was unbelievably excited about Jeremy and her new job and the bonus that had secured so many things for them, but wondered why didn't she tell her she was interviewing for a job. She told her to jet off and do what she needed to they would be okay. She hung up with her mom and felt like she was totally unneeded. It was a feeling she hadn't felt in so long and she wasn't 100% sure she liked it. She leaned back against the leather seat and looked out the window.

***

His brow was furrowed as he watched her. Something was bothering her. The only thing he could think of was the fact she wasn't having to take care of everyone. He booked a few things on his iPad he thought she might like, based on what he had read about her and knew about her. He smiled to himself. She would have a blast. He'd make sure of it.

“Hey Sasha, we are almost to the airport. Do you need any snacks for the plane?”

She looked at him and half smiled, “Sure, I could get some coffee.” He ushered her through the terminal, picking up her jumbo vanilla chai latte and heading out to the jet. Her eyes bugged out. “This is yours?”

He shrugged casually. “Yeah.”

***

She watched in amazement as everyone waved and smiled at Jeremy, they all genuinely seemed to like him. She got a few curious glances, but nothing out of the ordinary. He stopped at the steps of the jet. “After you, Cupcake.”

She climbed into the jet and her mouth dropped open. Huge luxurious seats filled the wood paneled interior. He came up behind her, his spicy aftershave filling her nostrils. “You gonna sit down, Cupcake?”

“Yeah, of course.” She buckled herself into the seat, and he smiled at her, opening a newspaper. They took off and he unbuckled his seat. He came and knelt by her.

“Hey. Look at me.” She did as he asked. “It's gonna be okay. You are ALLOWED to have fun. Smile.”

Then the dam broke and she started crying. “You don't understand.”

He brushed her hair back. “No, I don't. But I can try to.” She shook her head. He kissed her hand and went back to his seat. The remainder of the trip was spent in silence. They touched down and he led her through the airport to another waiting car. “To La Rouche,” was his command, and they were off.

“Where are we going?” She asked.

“For brunch, like I promised.” He squeezed her hand then let it go. She marveled at the NYC traffic, she'd never seen anything like it. They pulled up in front of a beautiful old restaurant and he opened the door for her, helping her out. “Welcome to La Rouche, one of the businesses I own.” Her mouth gaped at the exquisite building. “Close your mouth, Cupcake.”

She shot him a dirty look. “Hush.”

He smiled. He still held her hand. They put them at the best table and, before she could think twice, a napkin was in her lap, a mimosa at her hand and a menu in front of her. A waiter stood by as she browsed the menu. “What would you recommend, Jeremy?”

He smiled. “May I order for you?” She nodded. He spoke fluent and beautiful French to the waiter, who scampered off to do his bidding.

“Please tell me you didn't order me snails.”

He laughed uproariously. “No snails, I promise.” He touched her hand on the table and gazed into her eyes deeply. She felt her insides curl. He stroked his finger across the inside of her palm. “I would like to try kissing you again later, if you'd let me, Sasha.”

She felt herself flush. “We will see.” She lowered her lashes.

“It's not a no, I'll take it!” He fist pumped into the air. She laughed. Their plates came; she had Eggs Benedict over a croissant and a bowl of fresh fruit.

“Oh my God, I love Eggs Benedict.. and over a croissant? Toasted? Oh man.” She dug in with relish.

He smiled. “I'm glad you like it.” He watched her eat with enthusiasm. He dug into his own brunch.

She moaned lightly. “Oh dear God, that was delicious.” She wiped her mouth delicately.

“I'd be glad to have the chef teach you to make it.” Her eyes lit up.

“Oh, I'd love that! That would be incredible. Maybe one day.” She smiled.

He beckoned to the waiter. “Philippe, please tell Monsieur Beauchamp that we are ready for him.” Sasha looked at him curiously.

“What's going on?”

He smiled magnanimously. “You are going to cook with the chef.”

“What? Now?” Jeremy nodded.

Monsieur Beauchamp came from the kitchen, carrying a white chef's jacket. “Mademoiselle Jones, we have been waiting for you. Come, let me teach you.” He handed her the jacket, motioned for her to put it on and follow him.

She looked back at Jeremy. “Where will you be?”

He motioned around the room. “I'll be checking in on some ledgers. Take your time. There is no rush.” He stood, placed his napkin in his chair and smiled at her.

She turned and giddily followed the chef to the kitchen.

Sasha stood, fascinated, looking around the kitchen of the restaurant. There was so much noise and movement. It was like the best interpretive dance she'd ever seen. Everything flowed perfectly.  Monsieur Beauchamp directed her and she began working with ingredients, making the Hollandaise sauce and poaching eggs. She was absolutely in her element. She didn't know that Jeremy had come in the kitchen and was leaning against the wall, watching her.

***

Jeremy watched her and felt good. She was happy. She was relaxing. This was what she needed.  She had a streak of flour on her cheek and a dot on her nose. Her hair was pulled back sloppily. She had a smile on her face as she stirred the sauce, interacting with the staff. Monsieur Beauchamp noticed him and opened his mouth to speak. Jeremy held up a hand to silence him. Monsieur smiled and continued to speak with Sasha. A few more minutes went by. She plated up the dish and smiled a warm, genuine smile of satisfaction. Monsieur touched her shoulder and pointed at Jeremy. She grinned at him and held up the plate. He smiled at her enthusiasm and joy.

She turned to Monsieur and spoke to him for a moment. He threw his head back and laughed, patting her on the shoulder. She began walking to Jeremy and held her hand out to him. “Thank you!” She squeezed his hand. “That was wonderful. I had such a wonderful time.” He quickly pulled her to him and kissed her mouth. He dusted the flour off her nose and cheek.

“I'm glad. I like seeing you smile.” She flushed rosily. He helped her remove her jacket and he handed it to a waiter as they left the building. “I have to do a little work the rest of this afternoon. I thought you might like to visit a culinary store.” Her eyes were wide.

“I'd like to browse, sure.”

“No, Cupcake, I have a line of credit open there. You need to get any tools you deem necessary for your job. Part of your work.”

“I don't need anything major, really.” Her eyes shone.

“I thought you might say that,” he replied. “I put in a call to a friend of mine. He will be there to help guide you in getting things you need.”

She looked at him curiously. “Oh?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I want my personal chef to be adequately fitted out in the best of the best.” He smiled softly. “I also want you, as my friend, to be happy.”

“Are we friends?” She asked breathlessly.

“I'd like to think we are. I'm not your boss, I'm your friend. I'd love one day to be more than that, but you are in control, remember?” He brushed her hair back again. She smiled at him. The car stopped in front of a culinary store. He opened the door for her. “Get whatever you need or want, Sasha. No limit.” Before she could respond, he was back in the car and pulling out into the traffic.

***

With her heart beating, she went into the store. A salesperson smiled at her. “Hi, Miss Jones?” She nodded. “I'm Calista. I have someone waiting for you. Come.” Sasha followed the salesperson with her mouth open in shock at the array of incredible culinary tools. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw who was waiting for her, the world famous chef, Timothy Lagasse.

“Miss Jones,” he began, taking her hand and kissing the top. “May I call you Sasha? I'm Timothy and it's my pleasure to be working with you.”

“I know who you are. Please call me Sasha. I am honored to have you here and to be able to spend time with you.” Timothy patted her hand fondly and tucked it into the crook of his arm.

“Pleasure is all mine, dear girl. Come! Let us shop!”

A couple of hours later, her feet and brain hurt. She had bags and boxes of pots and pans, ricers, juicers, blenders. A small fortune had been spent, she didn't even know how much. She looked up to see Jeremy coming in the door, a smile on his face. He caught her around the waist and kissed her cheek loudly.

“Timothy, my good man, so glad you could help my Sasha out.” He shook his hand warmly, before hugging the chef.

“Of course, Jeremy, it was my pleasure. She should have everything she needs.”