The Perfect Dish (8 page)

“I don’t even know what that is,” she said.

“It’s Mexican dark brown sugar. It has a really high molasses content, so that’s what you’re tasting.”

JP threw his hands up in the air. “So much for the chef’s secret. What’s next, the combination to the safe?”

“Don’t you have prep you could be doing?” Kelly asked, his gaze never leaving Mery. The sparkle in her eyes mesmerized him.

“I guess that’s my cue.” JP gave Kelly a salute. “Aye, aye, Chef.” He waved at Mery. “Nice meeting you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.”

Once JP was gone, Kelly leaned forward across the bar. “How did you figure out what was in there?”

Mery shrugged. “I worked at a bakery when I was in high school. Certain things stick with you. Besides, I didn’t really figure out what was in there, I just knew there was more than what JP was telling me.”

“You’re very perceptive.” Kelly wondered if she had any idea about the persuasive powers of the chocolates he’d fed her.

“I’m a psychologist, I get paid to be perceptive, to read people.”

He came around the bar and sat beside her, twisting the bar stool so their knees touched. “So you think you have me figured out?”

“You? You’re easy,” she said, scooting back in her seat.

“Really.” He had a powerful urge to kiss the smugness off her pretty face. “Let’s hear it then. C’mon.”

“Are you sure? Some people don’t like being analyzed.”

“Stalling ‘cause you haven’t got a clue, huh? It’s okay, I understand.” He winked at her. “I’m a very complicated man.”

She shook her head, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. “Actually, you’re not. You’re an over-achiever, first-born or I’ll give up my license. You thrive on attention and need large amounts of approval. There is some evidence of abandonment, possibly early on so it wouldn’t surprise me to find someone raised you other than your biological mother. Your grandmother, if I had to guess. And although whoever raised you did a good job, you still crave acceptance from those around you. You need people to like you. No matter what level of success you achieve, you never feel like it’s enough. And deep down...well, never mind. I think that’s enough.” She raised her brows and leveled a slight smirk at him. “How was that?”

He sat there slightly numb, like someone had yanked the covers off him on a cold morning. How did she know all that? Maybe she’d talked to Shelby about more than just going to lunch. That had to be it. “I guess Shelby really gave you an earful, huh?”

Mery shook her head. “Not really, we only spoke for a few minutes before you arrived.”

He narrowed his gaze. “So you just figured that out from the couple times we talked?”

“I told you, it’s what I do. Or did. Since I don’t see patients any more, I’m probably a little rusty.” She laughed a little, a nervous, uncomfortable sound. “Look, there are a lot of other clues to what makes a person tick. You just have to know to look for them.”

“Like what?” he asked.

“Sorry, chef’s secret,” she said, a Texas-sized grin on her face.

He slid forward and laced his fingers through hers. Her skin was as soft as sifted flour. “C’mon, now. I told you what was in the cheesecake.”

She pulled her hand up, so that their interlaced fingers were right in front of his eyes. “Here’s a perfect example. By touching me, you hope to gain my approval and sway me to your side. You want me to like you.”

“Is that such a bad thing? That a man wants a beautiful woman to like him?” He drew her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over her knuckles.

“You don’t quit, do you?” She groaned lightly and shook her head but the faintest tint of pink colored her cheeks. “Of course not, quitting isn’t in your make-up. You can’t help yourself.”

“Not when you’re around,” he said, struck by the truth of his own words. This woman was driving him crazy. So what if she had him pegged. Was that such a bad thing?

“So was I right?” she asked. “How close did I come with my assessment?”

He let her hand slip from his and stood to go back behind the bar. “Close enough.”

He refilled her glass with fresh ice water then made one for himself and took a long drink. Keeping his private life private had been a constant struggle, especially now with the book out and all the press he’d been getting. His deep need to protect his sister he understood. The need to protect his mother, he didn’t. You’re not protecting her, you’re protecting yourself and Shelby from her, he reminded himself.

Mery looked at him expectantly. “Well? What did I get right? I’m curious.”

“I’ll tell you on one condition,” he bargained.

She toyed with the bar napkin, rolling the edge under her finger. “And that is?”

“Have dinner with me tomorrow night. It’s the least you could do after that Hoffa comment.” He wanted to pat himself on the back for his own brilliance.

“Since when does a chef have time for dinner?” She sipped her water. “Aren’t you the one
cooking
dinner?”

“Not every night. I’m still in the restaurant but I’m not in the kitchen. Tuesdays I do paperwork, make table visits, stuff like that. I can make time for dinner, though. Swing by Sedona Tuesday night around seven and I’ll satisfy your curiosity.” Hopefully, he’d get to satisfy more than just her curiosity.

She tapped her finger on the bar. “That sounds suspiciously like a date.”

He feigned innocence. “In a crowded restaurant?”

“Isn’t that where most dinner dates take place?”

“You got me there.” He grinned. “So Tuesday then?”

“I guess. Yes.” Her eyes closed briefly as she blew out a breath. “Why do I have such a hard time saying no to you?”

Arms resting on the bar, he leaned in until he was almost close enough to kiss her. “Are you telling me the great Dr. Black can’t figure herself out?”

To her credit, she didn’t pull back. “Just around you. I seem to do and say and think things I wouldn’t normally.”

He put his hands on the edges of her seat and moved a little closer. The scent of her, sweet and spicy, washed over him and he wondered if she wasn’t working some magic of her own.

“Like now?” he murmured. “Are you thinking about what it would be like to kiss me again?”

When she didn’t answer, he lifted a strand of her hair and twisted it around his finger. “Or maybe you’re thinking about the way our bodies fit together on the bike.” He held the strand to his nose and inhaled. “You smell like apricots and vanilla.”

“It’s...it’s the cheesecake,” she stuttered, not quite meeting his gaze.

The strand of hair fell from his hand as his fingers traced the line of her jaw, lifting her head. “I bet you taste like apricots and vanilla, too.”

He tipped her chin further so he could see her eyes. He wanted her to kiss him but he wasn’t going to ask. If she kissed him because of the influence of the persuasion spell, it wouldn’t be as sweet as if she kissed him because she wanted to. And he wanted her to. He wanted her to
need
to.

She blew out a soft breath and slipped off her barstool, out of his grasp. “You’re very charming, I’ll give you that but I should go. I have...work to do.”

Her hands were shaking, he was sure of it. He slid off his seat and leaned against the bar, thumbs hooked in his belt loops. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little ole
boy
, Dr. Black.”

The coolness he’d come to expect from her resurfaced. She straightened, brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear and leveled her eyes at him. “I’m not afraid of you. This just isn’t a good idea.”

The mood shattered. “Yeah, I know. You keep telling me that. I just don’t see what the big deal is. I like you. What’s wrong with that?”

“A multitude of things.” She shook her head, dismissing any further conversation. “I really do have to go. I have edits to do and...other things.” she waved her hand in the air.

“C’mon, then.” He pushed off the bar and started toward the kitchen.

“Where?” She didn’t move.

“Back to the bike. So I can give you a lift home.”

“No, thanks. I’ll take a cab.”

He wanted to push it, wanted to feel her wrapped around him again, her tight thighs cradling his backside, but let it drop. She’d be back tomorrow night. “Don’t forget Tuesday.” He waggled his brows. “You do want to know if you figured me right, doncha?”

She snorted out a soft breath. “Oh, I’m pretty sure I figured you right.”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.” He offered his arm. “Let me walk you out?”

“Okay.” She slid her hand through the crook of his elbow. “You get points for being a gentleman. Very unusual for...”

If she knew his thoughts, she wouldn’t think he was much of a gentleman. He patted her hand and finished her sentence. “A guy my age, huh, doc?”

“I was going to say ‘for this day and age’.”

“Sure, doc. Whatever you say.”

She slanted a smile at him. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

He glanced down and caught a glimpse of her scalloped pink lace bra beneath the vee of her sweater. His groin tightened. “And you’re sexy as all get out. But I guess all the guys tell you that.”

He reached to open the door but she stopped him. “Nobody’s told me that in a long time.” She smiled wistfully. “Thank you. You really are sweet.” She went up on her tiptoes, her hands on his chest, and kissed his cheek. “See you Tuesday, Chef.”

With his mouth hanging open, Kelly watched her push through the door and leave. As many times as he’d been called chef, never in his life had it made his heart gallop as when she said it.

The door swung shut and he slumped down onto the bench in the lobby. He drove his fingers through his hair and tipped his head back against the wall.

She made him plum crazy.

He whooped at the top of his lungs and stomped his boots on the rough wood floors. Damn if he wasn’t loving every minute of it.

Chapter Eight

What had she been thinking? Regardless of her situation, she could not date that man. He was too...too...male. She’d find someone safer. Someone who didn’t make her work so hard at keeping her head on straight.

She got a few steps away before she realized she had to go back.

Her hands pushed the door of Gauchos open just as a loud “yeehaw” rang through the air. Kelly sat on a bench just inside the door, stomping his feet on the floor. She raised her brows. “What was that all about?”

His feet stilled and his face went as red as a little boy caught stealing cookies. “Nothing,” he mumbled. The embarrassment faded into a happy grin. “Miss me already?”

“Not exactly.” She crossed her arms. “My purse is locked in your office at Sedona.”

“Oh.” The smile diminished slightly then brightened once again. He stood and offered her his arm again. “Your chariot awaits, my lady.”

The motorcycle ride back was almost pleasant, now that she felt more confident about not becoming a stain on the macadam. Still, she was grateful to hand the helmet back and call the ride over. Being so close to Kelly made her question her decision to dissuade him from chasing her. The man was flat out sexy. But he was also twelve years younger than her.

She followed him into the restaurant. The soft strains of new age Spanish guitar provided enough background noise to mute the conversations of the few tables of early lunch patrons. She hoped no one recognized her.

Once inside the elevator, Kelly spoke. “You liked the ride back better.”

“What makes you say that?” Mercy, he was hot.

“Saw you smiling in my side mirror.”

“Shouldn’t you have been keeping your eyes on the street?”

He grinned. “We were parked at a red light.”

The doors opened. She got off and headed for his office. “Doesn’t matter. I won’t be riding that accident waiting to happen again.”

He slid his card through the security scanner and let her in first. “Do you avoid fun on purpose or is safe and predictable just how your life normally goes?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” She stepped into the office and snatched her purse off the chair she’d left it on.

“Well, you don’t want to go out with me, which would definitely be fun.” He strode past, threw his keys on the desk and settled his lanky form into the chair behind it. “You don’t like motorcycle rides or roses—“

“I like roses,” she interrupted.

“So you just don’t like roses from me?”

“I like roses,” she repeated.

“Ah,” he said, kicking his feet up onto the desk. “So it is me. Well, that’s different then, isn’t it?”

Prickles of exasperation crept along her hairline. She shook her head. “That’s not what I meant. I just don’t think becoming involved with you is the appropriate path for me at this time.” No matter what her publicist and agent thought.

“You wanna put that in layman’s terms, doc? ‘Cause that sounds like psychobabble to me.”

The horrid word grated across her nerves like fork tines on a chalkboard. She put her hands on the edge of his desk and leaned toward him. “You know how you feel about being referred to as a boy?”

He nodded.

“That’s exactly how I feel about the term psychobabble. What I do is serious work.” She stabbed the desktop with her finger. “Your lack of understanding doesn’t invalidate it.”

He whistled. “Tender spot, huh? Didn’t mean to ruffle your feathers. Just can’t understand how getting involved with me would take your life down the wrong path. How do you know unless you try?” He clasped his hands behind his head. “You might even have fun.”

She took her hands off the desk and resettled her purse on her shoulder. “I doubt it.”

“You’re probably right. I mean, you’d have to learn to unclench before the fun could even begin.”

“Unclench?” she sputtered at his implication.

“Just saying you’re a little uptight, doc. Even though you don’t dress like it.” He nodded appreciatively at her sweater. “Except for the book signing.”

“I am not uptight.”

He raised a brow and smirked in a way that said he didn’t believe her.

“I’m not.”

Laughter greeted her ears. “You can tell me all about how not uptight you are at dinner tomorrow night.”

* * *

Not until she got home did Meredith realize she’d forgotten to ask Kelly how he’d gotten her address for the flowers. She tossed her purse and keys on the entry table and headed for the phone.
Uptight. Hah.
She itched to add a new post to her blog.