Some Like It Hot (6 page)

Robert had caved.

“I should have burned my legs ages ago,” she muttered to herself. “Or kissed him.”

“Pardon?” Jean-Paul asked.

“What’s up with the chocolate turkey?”

The Cajun winked. “I thought you two negotiated a peace treaty last night.”

“Not hardly.” She didn’t want the staff to be aware of the change in her relationship with Robert. As far as they were concerned he was still her adversary.

“Well, whatever went on back there in the boss’s office last night, looks like you won.”

“Nothing went on.”

“Maybe you don’t think so, but something must have changed. You got your way and Chef LeSoeur, he don’t give in so easy.”

That was true.

Hmm, what
was
up?

Pensively, she tied on her apron. She heard the sound of Robert’s crocodile shoes creaking softly against the floor. Even without the noisy shoes, she would have recognized his walk if she were blindfolded in a crowd. There was a methodical crispness to his gait. A certainty that said he never made a misstep.

And now she knew that, unlike her arrogant ex-husband, Robert was capable of compromise. He’d put chocolate turkey on the menu. He was going to let her take a chance, with
his
reputation on the line. It was something David would never have done. Once her ex made a decision, he never went back on it, even in the face of flagrant proof that he was wrong. Unless, that is, he was conniving to get something in return.

Was that what Robert was doing? Did he want something from her in exchange? Did he have an ulterior motive?

Now that was a thought.

Melanie turned to find Robert standing directly behind her. She startled, seeing him so close.

He looked at her and she looked at him, and everything felt crazy, weird and dangerous.

“What’s this all about?” She gestured at the menu board. “You’re okaying the chocolate turkey?”

“It’s only a test drive,” he said. “If it doesn’t sell, it’s out of here.”

“But why did you give in?”

“I gave it some thought and decided that you had a valid point. Your chocolate turkey deserved a chance. The customers should decide the fate of a dish, not me.”

Damn. Why had he gone and done a nice thing like that? Now she was nervous, worried the dish would be a smashing flop. “But why the change of heart?”

He shrugged.

“I know what this is about.” Melanie glanced over her shoulder at the kitchen help, then stepped closer to Robert and lowered her voice. “This is about last night.”

“Excuse me?” His voice was as low as hers. He flicked a
lazy glance over her body, and a thoroughly masculine smirk lifted the corners of his mouth.

“You’re feeling guilty for having taken advantage of me in a moment of vulnerability,” she teased.

“Yes,” he said. “I do feel guilty. But that’s not why I put the turkey on the menu.”

Around them came the sounds of chopping and peeling and slicing and dicing. The food processor whirled. The radio perched on the windowsill played zydeco music. The air was thick with steam from the kettle of gumbo simmering on the back stove, the perfect blend of garlic and onions and bell peppers scenting the air.

As Melanie stared into Robert’s eyes, the background sounds and smells faded away and all she could think was
I’m in deep trouble here
.

And then she saw something in his face that surprised her, something that took her thoughts from herself and her own concerns. Robert looked like a man who’d been hurt deeply and was scared of finding himself right back at a place he thought he’d left far behind. There was a melancholia about him that she’d only caught quick glimpses of before.

A loneliness, a longing. She understood how that felt, and it called to something familiar inside of her.

She kept staring at him, trying to see more, read him better, but his expression changed and he put a sexy smile on his face, belying the darkness lurking in his eyes just seconds earlier.

Had she imagined it?

“How’s the burn?”

She glanced down. She’d taken off the bandage. The burn was nothing but faint pink streaks now. “Feeling no pain, thanks to your quick response and first aid.”

“I’m glad.”

More awkward silence stretched between them. This time he was the one who rushed to fill it.

“Your turkey awaits.” He gestured toward the bird laid out on the prep table.

“Are you trying to butter me up for some reason?” she asked, still feeling suspicious, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was being too nice. What was the catch?

“Guilty,” he admitted.

She should have known. A guy who could admit he was wrong, with no strings attached, was a mythological creature.

Melanie crossed her arms over her chest. “What is it?”

“You’ve got to make me a promise.”

“I don’t make promises until I know what it is I’m promising,” she said.

“We can’t have a repeat of last night.”

“You’re saying no more kissing?”

“Precisely.”

“Why not?” On the one hand, she agreed with him completely, but on the other hand, she really wanted to kiss him again. Fool that she was.

“We need to set a good example for the rest of the kitchen staff.”

“Lame. I’m not buying it.”

“It would disrupt our work environment.”

He had a point. She thought of how her volatile relationship with her ex had boiled over on the job.

“Especially,” Robert continued, “when things don’t work out between us.”

“What makes you think things couldn’t work out?” she asked.

His expression grew serious. “Come on, Melanie, we’re night and day. The best we could hope for would be a lot of great sex.”

“And what’s wrong with that?”

“No matter how hard you try to keep emotions out of it, sex always complicates things.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” she teased.

Robert’s smile was wistful. “I’m certain you’re right about that.”

“Be honest. You’re afraid of me, aren’t you? That’s the real reason.”

“Hell, yes.”

“How come?”

“You’re way more woman than I can handle.” His gaze traveled from her eyes to her lips and lower.

“Is that a compliment or a complaint?”

“I like things ordered, organized, predictable.”

“I know that. The first thing you did when you got this job was label the shelves and have everyone’s name sewn on their aprons. But here’s a little secret.” She leaned closer, her lips grazing his ear. “Predictable is boring.”

She didn’t imagine it; he was doing his best not to shudder. Oh yeah. Whether he knew it or not, she could have him if she wanted him. Question was, did she want him?

“Predictable is safe,” he continued.

“What’s so great about safety?”

“Cuts down on the chaos.”

“What’s wrong with chaos?”

“It’s messy.”

“What’s wrong with messy?”

“It’s out of control.”

“Aha, now here’s the real issue. You’re a control freak.” Melanie grinned.

“And you’re just trying to cause trouble.”

“You’ve been talking to my family.”

“I don’t have to talk to your family to recognize a mischief maker when I see one.”

“Here, come help me.” She turned and sauntered over to the prep area, knowing he would follow. No matter how much he might be fighting it, he was hooked.

“You’re used to getting your way,” he said, coming to stand beside her.

“So?” Melanie didn’t answer Robert as she washed her hands at the prep sink.

“You’ve gotten by on your charm for a long time.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Not everyone understands that charm doesn’t equal sincerity. How many hearts have you broken along the way with that come-hither smile of yours?”

Melanie paused. Had she broken a lot of hearts with her casual flirtations? She’d never really thought about it before. Was that what she was trying to do with Robert? Break his heart?

He leaned in close to her the way she’d leaned toward him earlier, except he actually touched his lips to her ear. “Here’s a heads-up. Turn on all the charm you want, wild thing. I’m not sleeping with you.”

M
UCH TO
R
OBERT’S SURPRISE
,
the chocolate turkey turned out to be a hit. Going over the night’s receipts, he discovered that forty-seven people had ordered the special. Melanie had been right and he’d been wrong. Roasted turkey, feta cheese, dark chocolate and cayenne pepper. Who would have imagined that bizarre combo would be so popular?

His sassy sous-chef, that’s who. Apparently, he’d underestimated the sophistication of Chez Remy customers.

Melanie one, Robert zero.

No, not zero. He’d definitely scored a win when he’d informed her that he would not sleep with her.

His pronouncement had taken her aback. He’d seen surprise in the widening of her indigo eyes. She wasn’t accustomed to being refused.

Melanie one, Robert one.

Whose ball was the court in now?

It’s not a game. Stop thinking about Melanie and get down to work.

He liked doing paperwork in the quiet hours late at night, after the rest of the staff had gone home. He found the silence peaceful. He wrote out a purchase order for ten cases of feta cheese and dark chocolate. Chocolate turkey was officially
on the menu. He took a sip of his tepid coffee. The radio on his desk was in the middle of a sports recap on satellite talk radio, but tonight Robert was in the mood for music. Something light and fast. He picked up the remote control and skimmed through the channels.

An old song by the Trogs caught his attention because it reminded him of Melanie. “Wild Thing.” Smiling, he left the dial on the station.

He was half listening to the song, half concentrating on filling out the form, when he heard a noise in the empty kitchen. He’d thought everyone was gone for the night. Was someone still here? Frowning, he immediately thought of the recent mishaps at the hotel.

The sound came again.

A thumping noise from the dry-storage pantry.

No matter what story he’d concocted for Jeri Kay Loving, Robert didn’t believe in poltergeists. Someone was rummaging around in the pantry.

A thief?

Quietly, he eased his chair away from the desk. Muscles tensed, ears cocked, he rose to his feet. Creeping on the balls of his feet, he edged toward his door.

Thump, thump.

He glanced around for a weapon, saw nothing in his office that would suffice, but thought of the rolling pins kept mounted above the pastry chef’s workstation. That would do.

The door creaked when he turned the knob and eased it open. He froze in the doorway, listening intently, waiting to see if he’d been overheard by the intruder.

Save for a night-light over the stove, the restaurant was dark The rustling came from the pantry once more.

Gotcha.

He sneaked toward the pastry chef’s workstation and lifted the heftiest rolling pin from its place on the pegboard. Wielding it like a baseball bat, Robert rushed to the pantry.

“Stop right there,” he hollered, at the same moment Melanie let out a shriek.

They stared at each other.

“Oh,” they said in unison. “It’s you.”

Melanie’s hand was splayed across her heart.

Robert lowered the rolling pin.

“What are you doing here?” they said simultaneously, and then both laughed shakily.

“You gave me a start,” Melanie said breathlessly.

“I thought you were a thief.” Robert shook his head ruefully. “You just missed getting bashed with a rolling pin.”

He swept his gaze over her and realized she’d been unloading a dolly stacked with boxes of canned goods. A Swiss Army knife lay open on the floor beside her. She seemed to have been in the process of slicing the tape off the top box.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Late delivery,” she said. “I discovered this order sitting outside the service entrance as I was leaving.”

“Was it an expected order?”

“Yes. I thought you were already gone. You might want to check out the delivery doorbell. I doubt it’s working. I didn’t hear it buzz all night. Guess the delivery guy just gave up and left it there.”

“I’ll check it out.”

She glanced over at him and he could swear that just for a moment he caught a glimpse of nervousness in her eyes. What was she afraid of? Being startled by him wielding a
rolling pin? Or being alone in the kitchen with him late at night?

But the look quickly vanished.

“I’ll help you.” He rolled up his sleeves and moved into the narrow ten-by-four-foot pantry with her.

“That’s okay. I’ve got it under control. You go on home.” Melanie grabbed a couple of jars of pickles from the box and bent to shelve them, presenting him with a great view of her jean-clad backside.

“A good boss doesn’t leave until after his last employee does.” He squeezed around the dolly and came to stand beside her.

“I heard it the other way around. A good employee stays until her boss goes home.”

“At this rate,” he chuckled, “neither one of us will be leaving tonight.”

Leaning in, he picked up a couple of pickle jars to shelve, and his shoulder brushed lightly against hers. Sexual tension snapped like static electricity. Purposefully, he ignored the jolt of awareness, even though it twisted him up like a pretzel.

“Thanks for offering to help, but I can finish this up on my own. It won’t take me ten minutes for the rest.”

“You’ve got four more boxes to unload.”

“It’ll go faster if I do it by myself. I’ve got a system.”

“What’s the matter, Melanie?” he asked. “Do I make you nervous?”

She rolled her eyes. “No.”

“I think I make you nervous.”

“You
don’t
make me nervous,” she reiterated. Picking up her Swiss Army knife, she cut open the second box, then closed the blade and pocketed it.

“Why do you shy away every time our shoulders brush?” he asked.

“I don’t like being crowded.”

“You didn’t seem to mind so much last night when you were crowding me.”

“That was different.”

“Do you want to know what I think?”

“Not really, but I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway,” she said.

“I think you kissed me simply to prove to yourself that I don’t make you nervous.”

Melanie snorted. “That’s ridiculous. You were the one who kissed
me.
”

“You kissed me back.”

“What if I did?”

“Then why resist my help?”

“Fine.” She threw her hands in the air. “Go ahead, help away.”

She stepped toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Leaving it to you,” she said tartly. “Obviously you’re such a control freak you don’t trust me to shelve canned goods correctly.”

“I trust you.”

“It doesn’t feel like it.”

“Maybe you think I don’t trust you because deep down inside you feel as if
you’re
not trustworthy.”

“What? That’s insane.” Melanie denied it, but she didn’t meet his eyes, and he had a feeling his comment had struck the mark.

“Is it?”

“Totally.”

Their hands touched as they both reached for the same restaurant-size can of tomatoes, and instantly, Melanie jumped back. She was edgy as a cat.

Then again, so was he.

“I think an assembly line is in order,” Robert suggested. “It’ll be quicker. I’ll take the cans out of the box and pass them on to you to shelve.”

Robert passed her the can, she shelved it and they went on to the next item. He tried not to notice how gracefully she moved or how her ponytail spun jauntily about her shoulders. He tried to block the sexual thoughts swimming dangerously in his brain, tried to make himself stop feeling anything for her, particularly while they were in such close quarters together.

Mayonnaise and ketchup and olives. Soon the boxes were empty and Melanie turned back to look at him again.

And his heart sort of slipped sideways in his chest. An iceberg starting to melt.

She was so beautiful. So completely enticing. Her mouth was soft and her eyes softer, and the two of them were standing together in a small pantry in the middle of a quiet, dark kitchen.

Alone.

If he kissed her, no one would ever know.

You would know and she would know.

Yeah, but beyond that.

“Ever been kissed in a supply pantry before?” she asked, reading his thoughts.

“No,” he said. “Have you? No, scratch that. I can figure it out for myself. No need to confess your scullery romances.”

“I’ve done a lot more than kiss in a supply pantry, if you know what I mean.”

“I get it.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and wondered why he felt so damn jealous. Nothing was happening the way he intended.

She shook her head and grinned as if enjoying an inside joke.

“What?”

“How did you get to be thirty—what? One, two?”

“Thirty-two.”

“How did you get to be thirty-two and an executive chef without making out in a supply closet?”

He shrugged. “Reverence for canned goods?”

She laughed and the sound lit him up inside.

“Believe me,” he said. “I’ve done plenty of other things.”

“Like what?”

“I had sex in an elevator once.”

“Ooh, LeSoeur, I’m impressed. Wouldn’t have thought you had it in you. Unless you were alone, that is. You weren’t alone, were you?” she teased.

“No, I wasn’t alone. What’s the deal, Melanie? You seem to be under the impression that I’m some sort of soulless drone or a socially inept recluse.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not at all. I just think you’re a control freak with a brooding streak.”

She was right. He was.

Melanie tilted her head as if she was sizing him up. “What do you have to brood about, Robert? What’s got you locked up so tight?”

She took the index finger of her right hand and pressed it against his sternum. It was as if in that one crystal moment she knew all his secrets and they did not scare her.

The look in her eyes cajoled him.
Come on, you can tell me anything and I promise I won’t judge you. Just be honest with me.

But he could not trust that look. Nor his sudden impulse to open his mouth and tell her why he was the way he was. Why he needed control.

Being orphaned at an early age had cursed him with a loneliness he feared he would never shake. He’d done his best to overcome the tragedy of his childhood, but even twenty years later, a sadness could unexpectedly clamp down on him like a cold hand.

Maybe that was one of the reasons he was so attracted to Melanie. She was so warm. Like a cozy fireplace greeting a weary traveler coming in from the cold. He saw in her and her closeknit family something he had never had, but always longed for. A sense of connection. Belonging.

She’d pegged him to a tee.

In a rush, it swept through him. His loneliness, his need, his haunting desire for her.

Without preamble, he claimed her mouth with his, surprising them both.

“Oh,” Melanie whispered, then mumbled, “You taste good.”

“Hush, woman,” he growled, and their lips vibrated with the sound. He kissed her deeply, savoring the heat of her mouth and pulling her up tight against his chest.

His rational mind was telling him he shouldn’t be doing this, that he was going to regret it as soon as it was over, but his soul was whispering,
Let go, take a chance
.

He closed his eyes. She tasted so sweet and she felt so good in his arms that it blanked out all coherent thought.

Tongues and mouths and teeth and heat.

He was submerged.

Gone under. Drowning. Happily drowning.

Fight it.

But he couldn’t. He didn’t want to fight it. It had been too long and it felt incredible, and he was just a man, lonely and looking for a light to lead him out of the blackness.

Abruptly, she pulled back.

He opened his eyes, hardly able to focus, his breathing reedy, his mouth tingling.

She stood looking at him, her hair tousled, her chest rising and falling from her fast, gasping breath.

“What was that?” she whispered.

“What was what?”

“Didn’t you hear it?”

“Hear what?” He hadn’t heard anything beyond the pounding of blood rushing through his ears.

“Someone’s in the kitchen,” she said.

He was facing the shelving, his back to the pantry door. Robert cocked his head, listening.

Nothing.

“I don’t hear anything.”

“Shh.” She pressed her index finger against her lips. Lips that seconds ago he’d been kissing with the abandon of a monk who’d forsaken his religious vows.

They waited.

He heard it.

The sound of footfalls.

Quick, furtive, close.

Melanie mouthed a question. “Do you think it’s—”

Robert spun around just as the pantry door slammed closed.

And then came the solid clicking of the lock being turned.

S
IMULTANEOUSLY
, they bolted for the door, reaching for the knob at the same time. Robert got there first and Melanie’s hand clamped over his.

Together, they turned it, but the knob would not budge.

They were locked in.

It was long after midnight. No one was around to hear their cries for help.

They were trapped, with no way out.

Impossible. They couldn’t be trapped.

Panic started to rise in Melanie. Suddenly, she was a kid again, on that trip to the Grand Canyon, crowded into the back of the camper with her sisters and with only one tiny window too high to peer out. The memory hit her hard, and she felt as if she were smothering.

Perspiration popped out on her forehead and she clawed at the collar of her shirt, trying to tear it open, to get free.

“Hey, hey.” Robert grabbed her hand. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Claustrophobic,” she gasped. “Air, I need air.”

“Look.” He cupped her chin, forced her to look up at the ceiling. “It’s vented in here. We won’t run out of air.”

“Hot.” She fanned herself. “So hot.”

“Yes, you are.”

She sent him a black look. “Don’t make fun. I mean it. I feel like I’m burning up inside.”

“Calm down.” He ripped a section of cardboard off one of the boxes and fanned her with it. “Take a deep breath. That’s it. There’s no reason to panic. You’re safe.”