Seducing the Playboy (A Hot Nights Series Book) (Entangled Brazen) (6 page)

He traced one finger down her cheek. “I know what you want, and as long as you let me call the shots, I’ll give it to you.” His hot gaze made a promise. Heat flickered between them, and her breath caught in her throat. She licked her lips. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and he leaned forward.

A pounding on the door made them both jump.

“How long does it take to sign on the dotted line?” Max called.

Roman ignored him. “Do we have a deal?”

She nodded.

“Good.” He smiled, and this time it wasn’t a fantasy. It was real, filling her with disbelief and glee.

He let go of her hand. “Let’s keep it quiet, though. Gallaghers don’t fool around with their employees, and I’d prefer no one know I’m making an exception.”

Max pounded again.

“Hang on,” Roman called, gathering papers from the desk. “Fill these out and get them back to me when you have time. You’re going to be working your butt off, so I’m definitely paying you.”

She took the tax forms and hugged them to her chest, not sure what to say.
Thanks
didn’t seem quite appropriate. “Uh…okay. Great.”

“Jenna Cooper at a loss for words. This is one for the record books. I’m going to enjoy this even more than I thought.”

She blinked, shaking off the odd trance that had come over her the minute he’d taken control. She could let him call the shots without being a doormat. “Can you give me a ballpark figure for this slow seduction, just so I can make sure my legs are shaved?”

He flashed a blinding grin. “There’s my girl. I thought I’d lost you.”

“No chance, pal. I’m in this to win it…or something like that. Are you going to answer my question?”

He shrugged. “Work before play. We’ve got a menu to rewrite, a Vegas dessert to plan, and Cooper’s to sort out.” He reached behind her and grabbed her braid. She felt a steady pull and her head fell back, baring her throat. “You’ll just have to be patient.”

The desire in his eyes was stark and heady. He bent his head, and she felt the wetness of his tongue then his sharp teeth against her neck. “Patience isn’t my strong suit, but I’ll give it my best shot.” Her voice was strained.

Max rattled the doorknob.

“Coming,” Roman called, staring down at her. He let go of her braid and winked. “Eventually.”

He unlocked the door and opened it for her. She struggled to keep her expression blank as she walked past Max, feeling his gaze burn into her back as he followed her back to the line.

“Seriously?” Max grumbled. “Nothing—not a word? That’s all I get for my pep talk?”

She concentrated on dropping butter and brown sugar into the mixer bowl, remembering Roman’s second condition, but she couldn’t stop an enormous grin from spreading across her face.

Max chuckled. “I told you so.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” She turned on the mixer to drown out the sound of his laughter.

The rest of the shift passed in a blur. She made ice cream, cupcakes, cookies, and hot chocolate. She served jam cakes warm from the oven, and pitched in to help Max and T-Bird when they got an unexpected rush of walk-ins. Roman stayed in the office and worked on the menu, popping up to the line every so often to bounce ideas off them. Once, he even went into the dining room to talk to the waiters and the diners. He’d definitely taken her downscaling idea and run with it. It sounded like the menu was getting a complete overhaul.

At the end of service, she helped the guys close down the line, then went back to the office to say good night to Roman.

“How have you been getting around town?” he asked.

“Bus or taxi. I’m thinking about renting a car, though.”

“I’ll take you home.”

“Thanks.” The dynamic between them had changed. Instead of uncertainty, anticipation kept her on edge. She wanted to touch him, but she didn’t want to break her promise. Things between them would progress on his pace, whatever that was, and hopefully she wouldn’t die of frustration. Or kill him.

He was silent as he led her out the side door of the now empty restaurant, and he didn’t say a word as they walked down the street to his house. Just when she thought she might explode from the strain of following his lead, he took her hand. Her tension eased. His hands were rough and strong, palms broad, fingers callused. Her shoulder bumped his arm as they walked, and she could tell he was shortening his stride so she could keep pace with him.

When they reached his car, he let go of her hand to open the door. She hoped he would take it again when they were seated, and he did. Her entire body tingled as he played with her fingers, threading their hands together then unfolding them in a constant, lazy exploration that made her think of bodies rolling together and coming apart, winding and unwinding, until she could barely sit still. She wondered if he knew what he was doing to her. Glancing to the side, she decided he did. There was a decidedly smug tilt to his lips that made her want to best him at his own game.

He wanted to play hand-holding games? She could do that.

She shifted sideways so she could take his free hand in both of hers. She clasped their palms together and trailed her fingers over the back of his hand. She teased and tickled, satisfaction flowing through her at the liberty of touching him, as she wanted to. When she had learned the texture of every part of his hand and wrist, she explored the spaces in between his fingers, thumb rubbing the hollow of his palm, echoing the rhythm beating inside her. She pressed her fingers to his wrist, feeling his pulse.

He pulled to a stop in front of her house and slipped his hand from hers, breaking their connection. Instantly, she felt uncertain, disappointed her hand-holding skills hadn’t driven him to pull her into a clinch the moment he stopped the car. The locks released, and her thoughts flashed back to last night, when he’d all but booted her to the curb. His slight smile was gone, and he stared straight ahead.

She hated not knowing what to do, so she opened the door. “Thanks for the ride.”

She climbed out of the car, surprised when he joined her on the path up to the front door.

She got her keys out of her pocket. “See you tomorrow, I guess.”

The porch light illuminated his grin. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Nope.” She gave him an equally bright smile.
Ball’s in your court, buddy.
She was not going to founder right out of the gate. She was on her best behavior, and even if she felt like she might fly into a million pieces if he didn’t touch her, she was going to keep it together.

“Can’t forget a good-night kiss.” A serious expression settled over his face as he stepped closer. She swallowed, feeling time slow, stop, and then turn back. She felt longing well up in her center, an unbearable ache that took her back to their moment in the snow. Her breath caught. Her heart felt like it was expanding in her chest, and she wanted to stay here forever, breathing in time with him, feeling the heat of his skin, living in anticipation. Then every part of her rejoiced as their lips met, and she felt the same certainty she experienced when facing the ocean—anything was possible.

He stepped back.

She shook her head, feeling dazed. He chuckled, tucking an escaped curl behind her ear. “’Night, Goldilocks.”

“Good night,” she echoed, watching him walk down the path to his car.

Snapping out of it, she turned to unlock the door. She heard him start the car, but he didn’t pull away from the curb until she opened it. She sighed then giggled. Oh, man. Her heart was racing, her cheeks were hot, and she felt giddy. If it got better than this, the Roman Gallagher experience was going to ruin her, but she couldn’t care less. So worth it.

She walked down the hall to her room, imagining her feet floating six inches from the ground, which was possibly what he intended, and she couldn’t wait to see what he had in store for tomorrow.

Chapter Five

Jenna caught a bus to Venice Beach early the next morning, figuring she could explore the area until the Beach House opened. She wanted to get into the kitchen as early as possible to prep the dessert menu before the guys came in and took over the ovens. There was no way anyone would be working at six in the morning, but she had her laptop and there were a half dozen coffee shops in the area.

Most of the funky little shops that lined the street were closed, so she had to content herself with window-shopping. She paused outside an art gallery, admiring the bright red door and the roses trellised along the walkway. Further down, she saw tiny succulents sprouting in window boxes, and she spent a good ten minutes peering through the window of a batik shop.

Closer to the Boardwalk, the shops turned touristy, and she quickened her pace toward the Beach House. She was shocked to see the lights on. The side door was open, so she went inside.

Roman was pacing in the hall while placing an order on his cell phone. He nodded but didn’t say hello. Disappointment flashed through her. It was silly to expect him to pick up where they had left off last night, especially when they were at work, but a girl could dream.
Time to wake up. Work before play…damn it.
She set her toolbox on the counter, prepared to show Roman he wasn’t the only one with a work ethic, but the excitement that had kept her awake last night disappeared, leaving her feeling deflated. Her abrupt dip in mood forced her to acknowledge she hadn’t come in early to bake, she’d just wanted to see Roman again as soon as possible.

He ended his call and placed another, continuing to ignore her, so she busied herself getting her tools ready. She was going to need some coffee. She grabbed a pot, filled the basket, and hit the brew button. She yawned, so focused on the slowly filling pot it took her a second to realize her phone was buzzing in her pocket.

She fished it out and checked the display, surprised Lila was calling so early. Would Lila ask about Roman? She hoped not. Usually Jenna shared all details with her friend, but she was reluctant to explain Saturday night or anything about the deal she and Roman had struck in the office yesterday. “Hey, Lila. What’s up?”

“Can we wait for Betsy so I only have to say this once?” Lila’s voice was tense.

“Sure.”

After a beep, Betsy came on the line, and Lila sighed. “I slept with Jack.”

“Here we go again.” Jenna poured a cup of coffee before it was done brewing. She was relieved she wasn’t in the hot seat today. “Spill it.”

“And talk fast, I’ve got customers,” Betsy added.

Caffeine cleared her mind of cobwebs as Lila copped to spending the weekend naked with a man who had repeatedly tried to ruin her career, and Jenna remembered why getting involved with another chef was a bad idea. She watched Roman pace, barking orders into his cell phone.

“Was it worth it?” Betsy asked.

Before Lila could respond, Jenna answered for her. “Are you kidding me? It could never be worth it. He’s a chef, which makes him a bad risk, but even worse, he’s a Calabrese. That means you’ve got a guy who works all the time, stays out late, and drinks too much, crossed with a guy who has more money than sense, buys whatever he wants, and isn’t used to being denied. It’s a recipe for disaster, sister.”

Crap. How is what I’m doing with Roman any different?
Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach, and sweat bloomed on her skin. Roman’s voice boomed down the hall, increasing her agitation. “I’ve got to go.”

“Who’s that, Jenna?” Betsy asked. “Are you indulging in a little disaster yourself?”

“It’s complicated. Good luck, Lila. Stay strong.” She hung up, feeling like a hypocrite. Maybe she needed a reality check, too.

She leaned against the counter, remembering her disappointment this morning. She’d wanted Roman to greet her with kisses when she came into the kitchen, but that wasn’t part of their bargain. She gulped her coffee, no longer needing the caffeine but wanting a familiar comfort as her heart fluttered with panic. They weren’t dating. They were friends who made out, and she needed to keep her head on straight. Viewing him through the rose-colored glasses of her crush would ruin everything.

She’d entered this agreement with her eyes wide open, and she wasn’t going to blow it.
A few weeks of no-strings fun.
Then she
had
to get back to Lambertville to fulfill her life long goal of running Cooper’s. A fling with Roman, then back to her real life.

She would uphold her part of the bargain, and Roman would keep his promises as well. She pulled out a sheet of paper and began making two lists: one of tasks to accomplish today and another of Vegas dessert ideas. If he was going to keep it professional at work then she could do the same.

Full steam ahead. Purely physical. Eyes on the prize
.

Everything would be fine.

…

“We’re dead in the water, Chef.” The Beach House manager rarely traipsed back to the office on her clunky heels, preferring to drag him into the dining room where she could show him off. “Sparse reservations on the books this week. We’ve had more walk-ins than usual lately, but just as many people walk out when they get a look at our menu.”

“I’ve got a plan, Linda.” He hit print and looked up from the computer screen. “We’re going to close for three days while we do some redecorating. We’ll reopen on Thursday for lunch and dinner with a new menu, no dress code, and a huge beach party this weekend. How’s that sound?”

“Three days?” Her double chin and dyed-black feathered hair made her look like a pelican, and standing with her mouth gaping increased the resemblance.

He held up a hand. “Scout’s honor.”

“As if you were ever a Boy Scout.”

“Just for that, you’re in charge of the interior decorator. I’ve worked with him before, so I don’t expect any problems. Tell all the workers meals are on the house. We need guinea pigs for the new menu. And don’t forget to cancel reservations today through Wednesday and offer comps for when we reopen.”

“Dare I ask what we’ll be serving?”

He handed her a sheet of paper, fresh from the printer. “Burgers and beer, baby. Venice Beach style.”

He watched her read, dark eyes pausing occasionally, and wondered what had caught her interest. The Muscle Beach Burger? The Teeny Bikini Sliders? Rasta Pasta? Boardwalk Bomber? All served with sea-salted Pacific fries, of course.

She gave him a big smile and pulled his head down for a loud, smacking kiss on the cheek. Paper crinkled next to his ear, and he narrowly avoided a paper cut.

“You’re a genius.” She thrust the menu into his hand and headed back to the dining room before he could tell her it wasn’t his idea.

He followed her as far as the line, then stopped to smile at Jenna, who was making cookies. “Sorry for not saying hello earlier. I wrote a new menu last night, and I had to source a few ingredients.”

“At six in the morning?”

“It was nine in New York, and I want everything delivered by Wednesday. Why were you in so early?”

“I wanted the ovens all to myself.” She turned her back to wash her hands at the sink.

“Makes sense. In fact, you can work in the mornings all the time if you’d like to have the ovens to yourself. I’m usually here by eight.”

“Do you stay through dinner service, too?”

“Not unless it’s the weekend or we’re really busy. I usually cut out after the first turn.”

She nodded. “Of course. It would be difficult to keep up with your demanding social commitments if you worked all night.”

Her hair was in two braids today, and he tugged one in response to her snarky tone. For a second he wanted to confess his party boy image was calculated for publicity, but she already thought he was shallow enough. “A man of my social stature has responsibilities. Work hard, play harder. It’s a curse.”

She nodded and began scooping cookies onto the tray.

He watched her for a moment, noticing her cookie dough looked nothing like his and feeling a little put out that she was so focused on work, even though that was ridiculous. He edged closer, surreptitiously trying to catch a whiff of her sweet scent, following the same instinct that had made him follow her to her porch last night and kiss her. Since when did the Pippi Longstocking look give him a hard-on?

“Ro?”

He stopped, feeling as if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“I’m on my best behavior, but you’ve been ignoring me all morning. I assumed it was because we’re at work, but now you’ve got ‘up to no good’ written all over your face, and we both know I’m weak. I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind and want to sneak back to the office for a quickie?”

She looked so hopeful, he laughed. “Quickies aren’t really my style…but I’d love to hear what you think of the new menu.” He handed it to her. “As for ignoring you, I get tunnel vision when I start a new project. Forgive me?”

“I suppose.” Her long-suffering sigh made him laugh.

She turned her attention to the menu, and he tried not to be nervous.

She smirked as she handed it back to him a few minutes later. “Stubborn but not stupid.”

“Thanks,” he said wryly. “Do you have any suggestions? Additions or subtractions? Did I miss anything?”

She frowned, and his heart plummeted. “Well, you could probably drop a Venice Beach souvenir on the table with the check, but other than that…”

He mock glared as she continued “…it sounds fantastic. The descriptions are clever and funny. The food sounds amazing. I could totally go for that burger with the barbecued bacon, heirloom tomato jam, and Cabot cheddar right now. I’m starving.”

It was his favorite item on the menu, straight-up Americana. Suddenly, he wanted to show off a little…and maybe get her out of the kitchen. “Your wish is my command. Two Muscle Beach Burgers, coming right up. Should we get those on skates?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“I’m hungry, too. We can eat on the beach and have a picnic.”

“I thought you had to work.”

He caught her arm as she moved past him. “I changed my mind. C’mon Goldilocks, play hooky for an hour. We’re closed until Thursday anyway.”

“Says who? I spent all morning making desserts.”

“Says me. I’m the boss, remember? You have to do what I say, and I say we’re having a picnic on the beach.”

He didn’t realize he was leaning forward until she stopped him with a hand on his chest. “For a guy who claims sexual harassment isn’t his style, you’re pretty good at it.”

“Are you going to complain?”

“Only if you stop.” She brushed against him, deliberately he assumed, as she headed for the cooler. “I’ll freeze the desserts. Let me know when our burgers are ready to roll.

…

“Food coma.” Jenna swallowed the last bite of her burger and collapsed backward onto the blanket. They’d hiked far enough down the beach to get away from the crowd and staked their claim on a secluded spot behind an outcropping of rocks. It felt like they had the ocean to themselves. Roman had packed a feast into a bus tub, burgers, fries, root beer, and thick shakes made from her freshly churned ice cream. She was stuffed, and the light ocean breeze would make a perfect blanket for a nap. Perhaps she had been a bit too harsh in her condemnation of chefs to Lila earlier. The meals were a definite perk.

She closed her eyes and stretched out. Next to her, she could hear Roman packing the trash into the tub. Then he settled beside her. His fingers brushed hers, starting a chain reaction of tingles that began in her center and moved outward. It was crazy that such a simple touch could affect her so dramatically, but Roman had always done it for her. She opened her eyes and glanced to the side. His blue eyes were pale in the sun, ringed by a darker blue. His lashes glinted, and she got a wild urge to nibble them.

“What are you thinking?” he asked. “You have the strangest expression on your face.”

“You don’t want to know.”

He turned to face her. “Tell me.” When she shook her head, he caught her other hand and pulled her onto her side, so that they were lying face-to-face, separated only by inches. The urge got stronger.

She smiled. “How about I show you instead? It’s G-rated but kind of weird.”

At his nod, she leaned forward. “Close your eyes.” She brushed her lips over his eyelashes then gently nibbled them. Instant gratification was a beautiful thing. It was heaven to be able to satisfy her whim. She stroked his cheek, pressing a kiss to the rough surface, hoping he’d let her satisfy her other urges soon.
No time like the present.
He looked so peaceful lying there with his eyes shut, she couldn’t resist.

She rolled on top of him.

His eyes blinked open. “You just lost your G-rating.”

“There aren’t any kids on the beach.” Only a few sun worshippers and a couple of surfers nearly out of sight. “I think a logical progression from a good-night kiss would be a hot and heavy make-out session.”

She bent to nibble on his upper lip, teasing him with quick touches of her tongue. His lips were familiar and new at the same time, and she explored them, opening his mouth with hers. He groaned, and the sound resonated deep within her. She had him exactly where she wanted him, and it was bliss.

Abruptly, he flipped her, his hips pressing her heavily into the sand as his tongue invaded her mouth. He thrust against her, and she parted her legs and bent her knees, arching up to meet him. His back was bowed, connecting them at mouth and groin, and she wrapped her arms around him, trying to connect them everywhere else. Her body heated up so fast, she thought she’d melt into the sand as their mouths and bodies moved together in an urgent dance.

She held him tighter, feeling like she might come apart just from this, but he slid to the side, breaking her hold. She missed his weight on top of her, but she wasn’t picky. She moved to straddle him, but he stopped her with a hand on her hip. “Keep it PG or I’m going to forget my good intentions.”

“Your completely unnecessary, highly annoying, absolutely ridiculous good intentions? God forbid.” She tried not to pant as she rolled onto her back, away from him.