Seducing the Playboy (A Hot Nights Series Book) (Entangled Brazen) (9 page)

She tilted her face toward his. “Good night, Roman.”

He bent his head and brushed her lips with his. The soft kiss took him right back to the brink.

He pulled away. “Good night.”

As he drove home, he was still rattled, and he couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that the ground was crumbling beneath his feet.

Chapter Seven

Lunch was slow but steady. Jenna watched Roman pacing in front of the line, making sure each plate was perfect. T-Bird had distributed menu fliers to his surfer friends and they’d spread the word up and down the beach. She’d been hoping a mob would hit the front door as soon as it opened, but steady was good enough for her.

As dinner was getting underway, she approached Roman. “Do you have the menu for Vegas yet?”

His eyes met hers, and her cheeks flamed. She’d returned his distracted nod this morning when they’d both been consumed by last-minute details. Now that things had slowed down, she was afraid every X-rated dream she’d had about him last night was playing in high-def across her forehead. Her mind had replayed their scene in the hot tub in an endless loop of anticipation, ecstasy, and frustration. She’d awakened on the edge of orgasm, and her body had been pretty steady in that zone ever since. Maybe she could blame her flushed cheeks on sunburn.

He dug in his pocket. “I’ve got it right here. Sorry. It’s been a hectic day.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath, filling her lungs with as much air as she could cram into her overheated body. She exhaled slowly. Breathing was good. She’d just keep breathing and somehow she would get through it, red-faced perhaps, but if she kept breathing, she wouldn’t pass out from lust. That underwater orgasm had been incredible. She wanted more. She wanted
him
…and he was completely focused on the Beach House.

He edged close and leaned to whisper, “And I couldn’t sleep last night in spite of the very cold shower I took as soon as I got home.”

Relief rushed through her. It wasn’t only her. Thank God.

She arched an eyebrow. “Cold shower? Why cold? I’ve been taking hot ones. Very hot, if you know what I mean.”

The look on his face was priceless as her meaning sank in. “That’s cheating.”

She shook her head. “No way. That’s just common sense. I think of you, if it makes you feel any better.” She batted her eyelashes. “Still want to wait until Vegas?”

He snorted. “Take a gander at this menu and see if you need an answer to that question.”

She looked at the e-mail printout he thrust into her hand and gasped, breathless again. Breathing didn’t matter now. No amount of oxygen was going to help her create flavors to match an exquisite menu full of classic dishes accented by truly inspired ethnic sauces and accompaniments. She felt dizzy.

“I know, right? Total overkill. Alex is such a show-off.”

“I think the menu looks incredible.” She studied it again, gaze drifting to the e-mail signature at the bottom. Shock tightened her grip, crumpling the paper. “
Alexandra Banks?
Alex is a woman? Why didn’t you tell me?”

His gaze skated away from hers. “I didn’t want you two ganging up on me about the cream puffs. She knows I can’t bake for shit. We were partners in culinary school.”

“I just bet you were.” The words shot out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“Ancient history.”

So they
had
been lovers. No wonder he didn’t want them comparing notes, not that Jenna had many notes. Was Alex the reason Roman kept putting her off? Was he hoping to hook up with the Castle chef instead of her in Vegas?

She thrust the paper into his hand. “Nice. Keeping your options open, huh?”

“I was going to tell you last night, but you interrupted me. If I’d wanted to keep it a secret, I wouldn’t have shown you the e-mail.” His gaze was cool. “Do you still think your croquembouches can top that menu?”

Her cheeks heated. She’d forgotten all about the menu.
Work—we have work to do.
She leaned over to read the menu again. It really was impressive. “Damn, think the food will taste as amazing as it sounds?”

He scowled. “Anybody can make truffles and foie gras taste good. Did you see the wines paired with each course? At least they’ll all be drunk by dessert and won’t notice what we put in front of them.”

His words made her temper flare. “You don’t think I can do this, do you? Create a dessert to impress your
friend
Alex, your mother, and her billionaire?” She may have been worrying about that herself, but he wasn’t allowed to doubt her.

“Alex is not my friend anymore.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” She lifted her chin and waited.

His eyes were a beautiful stormy blue, but she refused to let it distract her. Finally, he growled, “Of course you can. But Alex is going to do everything she can to showboat, and I’m afraid we’re getting set up to fail, no matter what you make.”

“Wrong. Everybody loves cream puffs,” she argued. “Classic comfort food.”

“Like burgers and fries? Guess who talked me into that?” Roman glanced pointedly at the nearly empty ticket spike.

She glared back at him. “Is that why you’re so pissy? Give the buzz a chance to build. The dining room will be full before you know it. Meanwhile, don’t take your bad mood out on me. I’m the good guy.” She pointed to her toque. “See? White hat.”

He cursed softly. “Sorry.”

She shrugged, not ready to let him off the hook for that low blow. He hadn’t exactly put up a fight about changing the menu, so he couldn’t blame it all on her. She was doing the best she could, which was a damn sight better than he could do, at least when it came to dessert. His comment about the Beach House menu had stung, and his continued doubts about the Vegas dessert hit harder now that she knew Alex had been his lover.

He sighed. “You’re right. I’m taking my bad mood out on you because our first lunch was slow.”

“Does that mean this is a bad time to remind you someone needs to learn to make the desserts?” she asked, wanting to punish him. He might not miss her, but he’d miss her damn pastries. “I’m heading back home after Vegas.”

Max looked up from the grill, a Cheshire-cat grin on his face. “I love to bake. Teach me.”

“Pick me, Chef. I can bake my ass off.” T-Bird raised his gloved hand from the salad he was tossing.

Roman shook his head. “I’ll hire a pastry chef. You two jokers have enough to do.”

She crossed her arms. “And that’s the other problem. I need oven space and room to work, both hard to come by now that we’re open for lunch and dinner. I have a thousand cream puffs to bake.”

“Shit.” He frowned. “After service?”

“I guess so.” He could at least show a little gratitude for her dedication. Abruptly, she’d had enough. “I’m going home for a nap. I didn’t sleep well either.”
Bastard.

“You need a ride?”

Oh, the irony.
She glanced at her watch and shook her head. “The bus comes in fifteen minutes. I’m good. See you later.” And when she did, she’d make the best cream puffs he’d ever tasted and force him to eat his doubts, one by one.

…

Dinner service was a little busier, but it didn’t improve his mood. The tight look on Jenna’s face when she’d left the restaurant haunted him, and he knew he owed her another apology. He should have set her straight about Alex the minute it came up, and it wasn’t fair to blame her for a slow lunch at the Beach House. After all, it had been slower before she got here. He planned on making it up to her by helping her bake the cream puffs. He’d spent the rest of his day getting ahead on work so he’d have time to catch up on sleep tomorrow.

Thank God Max had stepped up and taken over the ordering. Not only was Max completely capable of handling the new menu, he was catching Roman’s errors. Roman was grateful for the help, but if his buddy gave him that knowing grin and made one more crack about actually sleeping while he was in bed, Roman might drag him outside and drown him in the ocean.

Naturally, Max assumed he was having sex all night, not tossing and turning because hot dreams were giving him a monstrous erection every hour. His decision not to sleep with Jenna until Las Vegas might actually kill him before they got there…and yet he knew he was doing the right thing.

It was harder and harder to think of her as Cole’s little sister when she was giving orders in his kitchen. Clearly, she’d grown into her bossy streak. His cooks cheerfully made room for her on the line, although Roman had a suspicion she bribed them for oven space. Every time he kissed her, touched her—hell, every time he looked at her—he felt a little less guilty about the things he wanted to do to her.

He looked up from the computer screen as Max entered the office, unsurprised to see he was munching on a cookie.

“You’re eating the profits…and about a zillion calories,” Roman pointed out.

Max leaned over his shoulder, dropping crumbs. “I saved you a hundred bucks on that order this morning. Plus, I never gain weight. I work it off the same way you do.” He held his fist out for a bump.

Roman ignored it. “I’m not working anything off right now.”

Max burst out laughing, showering Roman with wet crumbs. When Max could talk he said, “Good one. You don’t actually expect me to believe that, do you? Give me a break. I haven’t seen you on the beach or in the clubs. You’re banging her.”

Roman kept his voice casual as he brushed crumbs off his jacket, even though he wanted to snarl. “Nope. Not banging her. She’s…um…I don’t know. Shit. She’s different.” The fact that he couldn’t explain this to Max, the closest thing he had to a partner in crime, was worrisome. “She had a crush on me when she was a kid. I was stalling because I thought she might change her mind. Jesus, I can’t just
bang
her, as you so elegantly put it. I want to stay friends when it’s over.”

Max frowned. “What do you mean when it’s over? Already planning the breakup? I thought you guys were dating, like, for real.”

Roman shook his head. “You heard her, she’s leaving after Vegas. And getting involved isn’t my style, you know that.”

“All the more reason to bang her while you can. She’s dying for it.”

Roman glared at him. “I’m trying to be the good guy for once, is that so hard to understand?”

Max dropped the cookie he was munching onto the desk and stared at Roman as if he were the stupidest man on the planet. “Are you nuts? You just said she has a crush on you. If you give her the hearts-and-flowers routine, she’s going to fall in love with you.” He shook his head in disgust. “Nail her to the wall. Shag her rotten. But don’t you dare make that nice girl fall in love with you then send her home to Mommy and Daddy with her heart broken into a million pieces.”

Roman stared at him, appalled. “Oh fuck.”

“Yeah, duh. It’s a dick move, man. Now I’m sorry I encouraged her.”

“Why do you care so much?” he shot back. “She’s nothing to you.”

Anger distorted his usually easygoing friend’s features, and for a split second Roman braced for impact. Then Max shook his head and sighed. “Because she’s gorgeous, talented, sexy, smart…should I go on?”

Roman shook his head. Jenna was all of those things, but hearing it from Max was disturbing. “You don’t…you aren’t attracted to her, are you?”

Max gave him a look. “Hell no. You kidding me? She’s fucking hot, but she deserves better than either of us. You’re screwing with her head by pretending to be something you’re not. You and Prince Charming apparently ride on opposite ends of the kingdom, so don’t encourage her fantasies of white horses and happily ever after if you don’t intend to follow through.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do now? I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Max picked up his cookie and shot him another impatient look. “Just be yourself, I guess. Take her to bed and kick her out in the morning. No harm, no foul, no false expectations. Keep it simple. But someday I hope you realize the universe put a perfect plate in front of you, and you sent it back to the goddamn kitchen.” There was pity in his gaze, and it stung. “The line is all set for the night. I’m out of here.”

Max shut the door behind him, leaving Roman in a cold sweat. His stomach twisted, and the sinking feeling he’d had on the way home last night returned. Was he leading Jenna on? There hadn’t been any other way to play it. Jumping into bed with her had felt wrong, but what if she fell in love with him?

Short-term only…quick and dirty.
Her words rushed back to him, and he felt foolish. She had clearly defined their relationship, casting him in the role of playmate. Just because he’d dragged it out didn’t mean she wanted anything more from him. She was going back to Lambertville soon. And that was a good thing, right? Exactly what he wanted.

Max was wrong. He didn’t have anything to worry about except the beach party this weekend, Vegas, and convincing his mother to retire.

He glanced at the clock and stood. Jenna would arrive soon, and he wanted to be waiting for her. His cell phone rang as he walked out the front door. The new menu had gone live on the website this morning, and his mom had texted immediately.
Burgers and beer? That’s what you call an improvement?
He had ignored her texts and calls for the rest of the day, but sooner or later, he was going to have to hear her out. It might as well be now. “Hey, Ma.”

“About time. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“You’re just going to have to trust me.” There was every possibility he would fail, but he was committed.

“How can I trust you? Every time I turn around you’re doing something crazy.” Her voice was incredulous.

“Have I ever let you down before?” He kept his tone even. The answer was no, and they both knew it. “A dozen restaurants in half that many years. I know what I’m doing. It’s not a fine dining crowd, Mom. Chill out. I’ve got it under control.”

“Chill out? Did you just tell me to chill out?” Her voice rose. “I’ve got a multimillion dollar deal on the table, and our latest project is a beach-side burger joint. I look like an idiot.”

He couldn’t imagine his smart-as-hell mother ever looking like an idiot. A bitch, maybe, but not an idiot. Probably shouldn’t tell her that, though. He counted to ten until the urge to end the call dissipated. “We’d look dumber if we continued to push fine-dining in a flip-flops location. How did it go at dinner the other night? Did he try to put the moves on you?” Shame burned in his gut. It was his fault she’d been put in that position.