Seducing the Playboy (A Hot Nights Series Book) (Entangled Brazen) (7 page)

“You’re so cute when you don’t get what you want. Hasn’t anyone ever told you no before? Or does everyone do what you want because you’re so beautiful and determined?” He propped his head up on one arm and gazed down at her. She wanted to stay mad but it was impossible when he leaned down to kiss her again. This kiss was as different from the sudden take-no-prisoners onslaught that had just occurred as red pepper flakes were from sugar. It was slow and sweet. He left no corner of her mouth unexplored and by the time he was done, they were breathing in sync, moving together, and she was fairly certain their hearts were beating in the same steady rhythm.

“Isn’t this fun?” His whisper was a deep growl as he plundered the sensitive skin behind her ear. “In a torturous, frustrating retro kind of way? All action above the neck…dry humping allowed as long as we pretend it isn’t happening. Kind of like high school.” He stroked his hand down her leg, easing it away from his hip.

“I hated high school.” She arched her neck, inviting him to make good on his damn rules, and he complied. As he kissed her neck, she had to admit none of her boyfriends in high school, or college even, had been able to make her respond like this with a simple kiss. Roman knew what he was doing. His lips and tongue were soft and wet, leaving cool trails on her skin. Every so often he would nip her throat, and she would gasp, going liquid, melting again, and pressing closer to him.

His hard body and roving hands gave every sign he was as desperate for her as she was for him. Yet he kept himself in check, only going so far, and his slow exploration was exhilarating. It was one thing to indulge in a one-night stand, easily blamed on the heat of the moment. This deliberate intensity was something else entirely.
Don’t go there.

He pressed a soft, close-mouthed kiss against her lips and sighed, stretching out on his back and pulling her to rest beside him with her head pillowed on his shoulder. “The beach is nearly empty, but let’s not get carried away.”

“Let me guess,” she asked, lazily running her hand up his chest. “Now we pretend to nap when really neither one of us is sleeping because we’re so insanely horny?”

He laughed. “I thought we could talk about Cooper’s.”

Apprehension zinged through her. The Beach House, Vegas, and sexual frustration had pushed Cooper’s from her mind. She didn’t have a single good idea. What if the guru of West Coast restaurant-flipping told her it was a lost cause…or worse, patronized her? She raised her head to look down at him. “I haven’t been hit by a lightning bolt of inspiration yet, and I hate to waste your time when you have so much to do today,” she hedged.

“Brainstorming makes lightning bolts, and there’s no time like the present. I’m in a holding pattern until Max gets in. I want to talk to him about the menu, the best way to break it down, purveyors, prep list, and all that jazz, but for the next hour, I’m all yours. Tell me everything.”

She said nothing.

As the silence grew, his body tensed. “Unless there are no problems at Cooper’s. Please tell me this isn’t an elaborate charade to get me into bed.”

“God, no. How could you think that?” She scrambled into a sitting position, putting space between them.

He sat up, facing her, and shrugged. “You showed up on the beach and took off your clothes. You won’t let me call Cole to confirm. You ambushed me in my office…” His voice was flat. “If you turned half of that determination toward fixing Cooper’s, I bet you’d be in the black in a month.”

She glared at him, speechless. If it were that easy, she wouldn’t be here at all.

Or would she?

“No,” she said, ignoring the uncomfortable path her thoughts had taken. “I need your help.” She’d rather have him laugh at her ideas than think she’d been dishonest with him again, so she forced herself to start talking. Haltingly, she explained the slow decline in business over the past two years and how much things had changed while she was at culinary school. Her parents were older now, less willing to adapt to the times and their customers were even more so. Every menu update she’d suggested had bombed. While newer restaurants flourished around them, Cooper’s profits went down every month, and her parents wanted to sell, or at least her mother did.

“You’re sure you want to work at Cooper’s? Maybe your parents are right.”

She growled in frustration. “If I hear that one more time, I’m going to go ballistic. I had to go to culinary school before they’d even let me in the kitchen, and now they want to sell before I can figure out how to make things work. There’s nothing I can do about being the baby of the family, but I’m sick of being treated like I can’t help.”

“Wait…why wouldn’t they let you in the kitchen?”

She gave him a look. “Because cooking is a miserable occupation for anyone who wants to have a life?”

He laughed. “I can’t argue with that logic. Only an idiot would want to work as much as we do. I guess we’re both idiots.” He stood and held out his hand. She took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. “In fact, I’m a glutton for punishment because as soon as my mother closes this resort deal, I’ll take over Gallagher Holdings, and she’ll relax for once in her life.”

“Opening a resort doesn’t sound relaxing to me.”

“It would if you knew her.” His expression was tight. “I don’t think she’ll ever stop working, not completely, but it would be nice for her to settle down and let me take care of the restaurants. My
father
”—he stressed the word, making it clear he didn’t consider the man such—“abandoned her as soon as she told him she was pregnant. We didn’t have anybody else, and she worked like hell to take care of me. I want to return the favor.” His eyes blazed with emotion.

She bent to pick up the blanket, shaking sand from it. “She’s lucky to have you.”

He snorted. “Not when I show up half-naked all over the Internet when I’m supposed to be keeping a low profile and making her look good to a prospective investor.”

“Not your fault. I stripped first.”

He chuckled and continued, “Start brainstorming for Cooper’s the way you did for the Beach House. Strengths. Weaknesses. Wild ideas. Find your niche and dig deeper.”

She draped the blanket over her arm and followed him up the beach. “Easy for you to say.”

He laughed. “We’ll talk more about Cooper’s soon. Meanwhile, got any ideas for Vegas?”

“Max suggested strippers popping out of giant cupcakes and a happy ending for every table.”

Roman frowned. “He’s pretty much on target, although our diners are shelling out a whole lot more than a handful of dollar bills. We’ll be working in an unfamiliar kitchen and the chef running the event hates me, but we need to come up with a Vegas-style grand finale worth the price of admission. We need a showstopper.” He dodged a pair of spandex-clad in-line skaters zooming down the Boardwalk. “And no pressure, but my mother will be there with the billionaire she’s trying to impress.”

She felt faint and pretended to collapse. “I think I’ve got sunstroke.”

He half-carried, half-shoved her toward the Beach House. “Suck it up, and start figuring out how we’re going to put on a show. Think of it as a free vacation in Sin City. We won’t be there for long, but we can still have fun.”

“Promise?” She shot a sly glance over her shoulder.

His eyes met hers with heat and anticipation, making her shiver. “Create a Vegas-worthy dessert, and I’ll show you the time of your life.”

Chapter Six

Everything that could be done before the doors opened for lunch the next day had been done, but Roman couldn’t bring himself to go home. The menus were printed, supplies ordered, lunch cooks hired and trained, recipes perfected. The stations were prepped to the gills and they had backups in the walk-in. Actually, they were ahead of schedule. The back deck had been refinished, a sleek and smooth expanse waiting for customers to dance to music from the newly installed sound system. They had added an outdoor bar and opened the doors between the deck and dining room. The Beach House was a party waiting to happen.

After doing one more tour through the empty dining room, Roman walked behind the line, feeling energy shoot up and down his spine. The past few days had been a nonstop adrenaline rush. He could count the hours of sleep he had gotten on both hands, yet he wasn’t tired. He’d sent Max and T-Bird home to rest up, but he had stayed, thinking he should come up with some specials.

He reached for the lid of the grill station to look for inspiration, but before he could lift it, Jenna said. “Hold it right there, Chef.”

He looked up to see her standing at the entrance to the line with her purse slung over her shoulder. She’d worked just as hard as he had for the past three days. The freezer was full of freshly churned ice cream, cookie dough, and cupcakes waiting to be filled. How she’d managed to get all that done in the middle of the controlled chaos happening on the line was a mystery to him. She’d moved among them like a swift shadow, silent and unobtrusive, yet he’d always been aware of her presence. Even in his busiest moments, he’d known exactly where she was in the kitchen because his pulse rate increased at the sound of her voice, and the hair on the back of his neck stood up when she passed behind him. When he got a whiff of chocolate chip cookies, he got hard. If she accidentally brushed against him, he’d half-turn toward her, concentration shot, until he remembered what he was doing and got back down to it.

She’d kept her word, behaving with complete decorum on the line, although her slight smirk told him she was aware of her effect on him. Max, thankfully, was too busy hauling ass to razz him, and T-Bird kept his ears plugged into his iPod, his eyes on his cutting board, and his mouth shut. Since he and Jenna were the last two out every night, no one saw him drive her home…or kiss her on her front porch, which he couldn’t resist despite his best intentions. So far he was the only one being driven crazy by his plan to take it slow and teach her a lesson.

“Step away from the grill station,” she commanded.

“I think we need a few specials for our opening lunch.”

“Everything is special on a new menu.” She turned off the lights, took his hand, and dragged him away from the line. “Stick a fork in it, Ro. We’re done here. Enough is enough. Is everything locked up front?”

He nodded.

She pulled him out the side door into the afternoon sunlight. “Lock it.”

Bemused, he complied.

She led him down the street to his house and stopped next to his car. “Now drop me off at home and go get cleaned up. I promised my landlady and her daughter I’d cook for them tonight. We’re having a dinner party.”

He opened the door for her. “Not really my scene.”

“Don’t be an ass.” She slid into the car. “You’re bringing wine.”

He shut the door and walked around the car to get in beside her. A dinner party? She wanted to cook for him? Her offer kindled a long-dormant spark inside him. He hadn’t sat down for a non-restaurant dinner since the last time he’d visited her family.

Her sigh was long and loud. “I’m sure you’d rather go out drinking and dancing, but photographers catch you doing the darndest things, remember? Probably wouldn’t be good to get caught partying the night before your grand opening. Too much like counting chickens before they hatch.”

He’d been planning on working or sleeping if he could manage to power down, but she didn’t have to know that. “Red or white?”

She grinned. “White or a light red. I’m grilling chicken and fish.”

He couldn’t remember anyone looking at him with so much delight over something as simple as agreeing to come to dinner. Usually his women only smiled like that if there were shiny metals or stones involved. He reached over to take her hand. “Thank you for everything you’ve done this week.” She hadn’t just baked desserts. She’d helped out wherever needed, putting in as many hours as the rest of them, seemingly tireless and completely invested.

Her hand nestled in his. “It was fun. I’m amazed by how much you all got done in three days, and it gave me some insight into what needs to happen at Cooper’s.”

“I saw you taking notes.”

Her eyes turned molten. “Yep, it’s not every day you get to see Roman Gallagher in action.”

He grinned and leaned across the console, planning to press a quick kiss to her lips, but desire, swift and all-consuming, exploded the second his lips touched hers. He unbuckled his seat belt and hers, pulling her to meet him in the middle, fusing their mouths and devouring as much of her as he could reach until they ran out of breath.

He smoothed a wayward strand of hair away from her face, enjoying her dazed expression. Her pupils were wide, her lips slightly parted. She was waiting for him to kiss her again, and the anticipation bouncing back and forth between them was electric. He intentionally hadn’t taken things further between them this week, assuming she’d change her mind once she saw him in work mode for several days in a row. Nothing killed a fantasy crush like a good dose of reality, and he’d worked her like a dog. He’d half-expected to walk her up to her porch one night, lean in to kiss her, and catch a right hook to the jaw, but his plan had backfired. Apparently, she liked workaholics. So did he. He’d had no idea how exciting it would be to spend time with a woman who shared his passion for the restaurant business.

It was a hell of an aphrodisiac, but he had to get control.

She gasped, and he felt her soften, surrendering to his touch, and he fell into her, sharing her breath, exploring the connection between them. Her chef coat was open. She wore a white tank top, with a pink bra underneath. He couldn’t resist tracing the edge of the lace peeking above her neckline. Her sharp inhale lifted her breasts against his fingers, rousing primitive instincts. Pure and simple, he wanted her to make that noise again, so he slipped his hand under her shirt to cup her breast through her bra.

Her head fell back against the seat, encouraging him to press forward. He squeezed the soft weight of her. Dozens of images flashed through his mind, memories from the night on the beach mixed with things he would be doing to her right now, if they weren’t in a tiny car and covered in layers of restrictive clothing.

Control. Where was his control?

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed closer to him, holding nothing back. She murmured his name in a choked whisper and then gave him a smile so sweet it made his heart clench.

He pulled back, curbing his lust. None of the women he hooked up with were any more serious about dating than he was. But Jenna was different. She might claim to want something free and easy with him, but she didn’t have the protective emotional shell that his lovers wore as casually as they sported their glossy lipstick. She could get hurt.

This was Jenna. Cole’s little sister, and from a family he adored. A family who would hate him if he hurt her. The Coopers’ house was the one place where he’d always felt at home. No matter how insanely horny he was at the moment, he didn’t want to lose that connection. Not too much longer, and she’d be gone. He could hold back until then.

The reminder didn’t offer quite the relief he wanted, though.

Deliberately, he forced his tense muscles to unlock. He sat back. “Gotta say I regret buying a car with no backseat.”

A disgruntled sigh rumbled from her lungs. “Not half as much as I do.”

Tension built inside him as he put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking lot. Her hand slid into his, and his pulse revved with the engine as he pulled into the street, making him acutely aware his control was slipping…and they weren’t going to be at work tonight.

…

Two hours later, Roman sat on a tall stool at the breakfast bar, watching Jenna move around the kitchen. She was wearing ripped jeans and a purple T-shirt that hugged her curves. Music and laughter filled the kitchen. Jenna had given everyone a job to do. He was cleaning green beans and advising her landlady’s seven-year-old daughter on the best way to wash lettuce for their salad. Devon had it under control but it was fun to offer bogus advice.

He caught her eye and winked. “Make sure you take the lid off the lettuce spinner while it’s moving. You get better centrifugal force that way.”

Devon grinned and made a move toward the spinner.

Jenna slammed her hand down on the lid and held it in place. “Not helpful.”

“Spirit crusher.” He grinned at the little girl, who held out her fist for a bump. “We’ll do something fun with the green beans, I promise.”

Jenna tugged the bowl of greens beans away from him and pointed at her cutting board. “Bell pepper confetti, please. Is that fun enough for you?”

He sighed and patted her on the shoulder. “It’s a start.”

The pat on the shoulder was just an excuse to touch her. Her hair was still damp from her shower and up in a loose twist. Golden ringlets fell around her face, making him want to tug on them. Every time she passed, he got a whiff of shampoo and had to fight the urge to bury his face in her hair and press his lips against her neck. He restrained his instincts and abandoned himself to the good mood dominating their little party. Jenna’s landlady, Barb, was hilarious, a Porsche saleswoman who had great sales stories and even better failed-sales stories.

After dinner, her boyfriend showed up to take Barb and Devon out for ice cream. “Why don’t you two enjoy the hot tub while we’re gone?” Barb suggested.

A zing of alarm shot through him. “I didn’t bring a suit.” The thought of being in a hot tub with Jenna made his pulse pound with anticipation.

“Don’t let that stop you.” Barb shot him a saucy wink.

Roman jerked in surprise and looked at the seven-year-old Devon, who rolled her eyes. “Check the closet. There’s piles of them.” The cheerful trio headed out the door.

Without a chaperone, Roman knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands to himself. He stared at Jenna. She grinned and thrust a pile of swim trunks into his arms. Visions of everything that could be done in a hot tub under cover of water and darkness swam through his mind.

Make an excuse and leave. Now.

Damn. He couldn’t do it.

He found the bathroom and slid into a pair of trunks, shaking his head. Jenna had probably planned to get him in the hot tub all along. His suspicions were confirmed when he met her in the hall and saw what she was wearing. “That’s not a bathing suit. That’s walking indecent exposure. There is no way you can swim in that thing.” Three triangles of bright green material were strategically held together by—good God, was the entire thing made of yarn? Would it unravel in the water?

“Nope. I wouldn’t even try. The woman who sold it to me said it looked fantastic lying next to the pool. I don’t think she meant on a body, either.”

Stunned by that image, he followed her toward the sound of churning bubbles, unable to take his eyes off the sweet lower curve of her bare ass. Mercifully, she got into the water immediately, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. He paused, ready to hand her a towel from the pile next to the tub if her suit came apart.

“Are you going to get in or are you just going to stand there?”

Her teasing words galvanized him, and he stepped down into the hot tub, hissing at the heat of the water.

“I know, right? It’s the perfect temperature to melt away the stress. I had no idea I was so tense.” She peered at him out of one eye, making him chuckle.

“Is that a request for a back rub?”

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open in mock surprise. “Well, you do owe me one, but I’d never be so forward.”

Roman shook his head and grinned, already feeling loose from the heat. He sensed his inhibitions slipping away. Eventually, he was going to have to conquer the urge to rip her suit off, crawl inside her body, and turn them both inside out, but for now he could handle the temptation. He beckoned to her and she scooted toward him.

He settled her floating body one step below his. The hot tub was large enough to fit four, so they had plenty of room, and whoever had designed it must have had a dirty mind because the various levels were perfect for the first three sexual positions that popped into his head. He smoothed his hands over her shoulders, unable to prevent a small sound of enjoyment at the feel of her strong muscles and delicate bones. She sighed as his hands drifted slowly down her arms. “You’re good at this.”

In response, he dug his thumb into a tight spot just beneath her shoulder blade. Her moan traveled straight to his cock. “Do that again,” she begged.

As if he could resist.

The water made her skin slick, smooth, and hot. The suit, what little there was of it, gave him complete access to her shoulders, and he explored her back, finding all her trigger points and sore spots and working on them with gentle but determined pressure until she sighed, her body drifting limp and lax in front of him. If she had been laid out on a bed, he would have given the same treatment to her lower back. He knew from experience how much strain just standing all day could cause. However, given how much of her ass was exposed by the skimpy suit, it was probably best he kept his hands above her waist. His hands moved slower and slower, more caress than massage.

“I’m floating, right?” She sounded drowsy. “I feel like I’m floating up to the sky.”

He clasped his arms around her waist. “I’ll hold you down.”

Her head fell against his shoulder. He shifted so that she was sitting on his lap instead of resting between his thighs. Her hand came to rest on his chest. Her eyes opened and she gazed at him with so much warmth, he bent his head to kiss her. Gently at first, but when she welcomed him, he dove deep, opening her lips with his.