The Zombie Billionaire's Virgin Witch (Zombie Category Romance) (7 page)

Her
shoulders sagged and she hung her head, cupping her cheeks in her hands. 
"I was afraid you'd think that."

She
whispered in a broken voice that compelled him closer.  His stomach
growled again, a ravenous beast slobbering at the rich scents rolling from the
kitchen.  Or was it her?  He caught the vanilla scent of her hair,
the brown-sugar sweetness of her skin, dusted with cocoa.  He groaned, his
mouth watering.  Damn it all to hell, she smelled like that cursed cake
she'd made last night.

God
help me if it's on the menu tonight.

"Ms.
Remy..."

Her
fist buried in his complaining stomach so hard he doubled over, barely catching
himself against the wall.  He’d flatten another man who dared punch him,
but the idea of a woman hitting him so hard knocked the air out of him as well
as her fist.  When he could speak again, he growled out, "What the
hell was that for?"

"You
don't know?  Well, let me explain it to you, Mr. Michelopoulos.  I'm
tired of your heavy-handed arrogance.  Everyone tiptoes around you, too
afraid to tell you when you're being an alphahole, but I'm not afraid of
you."

Despite
the cramping pain in his stomach muscles, he spluttered out a laugh. 
"What the hell does alphahole mean?"

"Because
you have more money than God, you think you're top dog.  Alpha.  You
rule, everyone else drools.  You come in snarling and snapping at anyone
who dares stand up to you, and they crawl away with their tails between their
legs."  She stabbed him in the chest with her index finger. 
"But deep down, you're the biggest asshole I've ever met, Mr.
Michelopoulos.  A real alpha takes care of his people.  He doesn't
lord it over them and take every opportunity to beat them down with his
ridiculous commands."

Taken
aback, he lowered his head toward hers so he could glare into her eyes. 
"You don't think I take care of my people?"

"All
I've seen are demands and foul temper."

Eyes
narrowed, he watched her expressive face while letting possible plans of action
flicker through his mind.  He didn't care what she thought of him. 
Not really.  She was certainly justified in thinking the worst of him
after he took her father's restaurant and replaced all the employees. 
He'd sent them off with tidy sums, but she didn't know that, and only after
interviewing each of them.  He would've hired several of them, but they
weren't willing to work for him.

Again,
not that he could blame them.

Her
body vibrated just inches away, her eyes flashing, her hands still balled up,
ready to sock him again.  Surely she didn't know that such a challenge
would attract him more.

He
stilled, his breath stuck in his lungs.  His erection throbbed in his
pants, emphasizing that realization.  "What are you doing to me,
witch?"

"Nothing,"
she breathed out soft and low, her eyes liquid pools of innocence and
sweetness. 

Lies. 
I can’t possibly want her this much.
  His stomach rumbled again so loudly
that her lips quirked, making him flush.

"Afraid
to eat my cooking, Mr. Michelopoulos?"  She taunted softly, those
full lush lips curving in invitation.  "Surely the big bad wolf isn't
afraid of the goodies in Little Red Riding Hood's basket."

"Wrong
fairytale," he growled out.  Then he wrapped his hand around the bun
at the nape of her neck and crushed her lips beneath his.

Shock
splintered through her.  For a man who found her appearance lacking and
her magic bordering on criminal, he was certainly enthusiastic in his
kiss.  Not that she was complaining.

He
must have expected shyness or timid restraint, because when she threaded her
hands in his hair and lifted her body tighter to his, he made a low sound of
surprise.  She might be a virgin from necessity, but kissing had never
been off limits.  Sliding her tongue into his mouth, she shuddered at the
raw power coursing through her.  Magic?  Or simply the man? 

Her
heartbeat ramped higher.  His heat and strength engulfed her.  She
hadn’t realized how tall he was until she had to stretch up and practically
climb his body. 

With
a low growl, he pushed her back against the wall, pinning her there like a
bug.  He pulled her hands free of him and locked her hands against the
wall beside her head, using his body to hold her high enough that her toes
dangled. 

How
had he known?  He might as well have crept into her bedroom and perused
all the erotic novels on her keeper shelf.  She’d reluctantly daydreamed
about the possibility he’d be willing to seduce her in whatever trap he’d
planned out, but she never dared hope he might indulge her darker fantasies
too, without her even having to ask. 

His
knee slid higher between her legs, and she squirmed against him, riding that
powerful muscle.  She pulled against his grip, enjoying the force he used
to keep her exactly where they both wanted her.  Grinding against him, she
twined her tongue with his, reveling in the forbidden taste of his mouth. 
So good, like dark chocolate spiced with cinnamon and ginger and a hint of
merlot.

Breathing
hard, he twisted his mouth away and stared down at her, his eyes glittering
like chips of black ice.  “I thought I was cursed before I met you. 
Now I’m certain.”

His
arousal thumped against her, a threat and a promise of all he could offer
her. 
If only I were free to indulge…
  She swallowed hard and
forced a wobbly smile. 
It doesn’t matter.  I’d just end up
another notch on his bedpost.
  “You started it.”

The
canyon between his eyes deepened, his incredible mouth twisting into a
snarl.  “You’re impossible.”

“Yes,
yes, I am.  You should kick me out of here to save yourself any more
trouble or annoyance, Mr. Michelopoulos.  Simply give me the ring and…”

He
jerked away with a low furious sound like ripping cloth, leaving her stumbling
to catch herself against the wall.  Raking a hand through his hair, he
prowled back and forth like a caged tiger.  “Everyone loves your
food.  After talking to several customers, I’m less inclined to believe
them seriously addicted to anything harmful.  Yet as soon as I start to
think I can cut you some slack, you bespell me again and I’m back to doubting.”

She
spluttered, “Bespelled?  I’ve done nothing to you since dinner last
night.  Even then, nothing bad happened.”

“You
tricked me,” he said through clenched teeth.

She
lifted her chin and used her prim and proper voice.  “You deserved
it.  Besides, you wouldn’t have felt any lingering effects this morning if
you hadn’t eaten so much.”

“So
you’re back to blaming
me
for having a headache this morning and
ravenous hunger I can’t seem to satisfy?”

The
way he said it—all low and growling—made the muscles deep in her belly
clench.  A thrill shot through her at the sensual implication.  He
couldn’t hide that impressive erection.  Could he really feel an
attraction for her?  Or was it merely the normal reaction of a healthy,
virile man getting the sense kissed out of him?

“I
don’t know what’s up or down right now.  You’ve messed up my senses, my
tastebuds, my body, everything.  Me, calm and cool under any situation, no
matter the stakes, and I’m snapping and slavering like a maddened beast. 
What did you do to me, witch?”

He
practically yelled the last words.  Ignoring his ire, she grabbed his hand
and let him back inside
Remy’s
.  Miracle of miracles, he
went.  He even sat down at the island where they’d chatted earlier.

When
she set a plate of this evening’s special in front of him, he put his foot
down.  “No.”

“You
let the mayor eat it, but you won’t?”

“I
can’t afford to compromise my intellect and my senses any more at this point.”

“Oh
for goodness sakes!”  She planted her hands on her hips.  “Your high
and mighty intellect was compromised the first moment you challenged Daddy and
stole his restaurant!  The whole reason you’re so grouchy is that you’re
hungry
. 
So shut up and eat!”

He
shot an arctic glare, his lips tightening and his shoulders stiff with
reluctance.  “I’m not grouchy.”

“And
I’m not chubby either.”  Turning her back on him, she went over to the
stove and checked on her pies.  “I can hear your stomach growling and
you’re as mean as an old bear woken up from hibernation too early.  I bet
you haven’t eaten all day.”

She
refused to look at him, choosing instead to plate the apple pie ala mode. 
Hopefully the last orders had come in—otherwise she was going to run short on
dessert tonight.  It would’ve broken her father’s heart if he’d sent a
guest home without their sweet tooth satisfied.

“Why
do you think you’re chubby?”

She
froze in the middle of dropping a scoop of ice cream onto the warm pie. 
Her mind locked up like an overheated engine run without a single drop of
oil. 
It has to be a trick question.
 

She
couldn’t think of a response.  She loved food, had always loved food, and
her body showed it.  She wouldn’t call herself fat, but by no means would
she fit into a perfect size 4 portrayed by the media.  On a good day,
she’d be thrilled to fit into a 14.

Forcing
out a laugh, she shrugged.  “Let’s just say I’m no beauty and I never will
be.  I’m fine with that because I can cook anyone out of the
kitchen.  Well, except for Helga, and Daddy, of course.  It’s a small
price to pay for loving good food.”

If
she wasn’t mistaken, she heard the sound of cutlery on the plate.  The
straining tension eased inside her.  If he couldn’t bring himself to eat
her food, he’d never trust her to run the kitchen and pull
Remy’s
back
from the brink.

“I
admit you’re not my usual type.”

Thank
God her back was to him.  She let the ugly sneer twist her face, but she
bit back the bitter response. 
Not what your body said a few minutes
ago when you were kissing me.

“But
I wouldn’t say you were chubby either.  That’s a word for a chunky
adolescent girl.”

Smoothing
the hurt from her face, she managed a civil nod in his direction as she handed
off the dessert plates to the wait staff.  “How many are left in the
dining room?”

“This
is the last,” the young man said with a weary smile.  Hopefully he’d made
some nice tips for a change.

“Thanks
for a great service.  Tell all the servers that I’m grateful for their
help tonight.”

He
flashed a smile and disappeared into the other room.

“Do
you know him?” 

She
had no idea why Michelopoulos’s voice had gone so icy again.  Silly
man.  His mercurial moods were impossible to keep up with.  “No, I
don’t.  Everyone I knew from my father’s kitchen is no longer here.”

“I
didn’t fire them.”  He cleared his throat self-consciously, scowling when
she arched a brow at him.  “Not that I care what you think, Ms. Remy, but
I didn’t come in here and blindly fire all your father’s precious staff. 
They refused to work for me.”

Heartache
suddenly swamped her, fond tears burning her eyes.  Daddy would have been
touched to know his staff had been so loyal.  Softly, she whispered,
“Thank you.”

“For
what?”  Michelopoulos eyed his empty plate like he was thinking about
licking it clean.  When she didn’t answer, he raised his penetrating gaze
to her face.  His dark eyes flickered over her, head to toe, a fleeting
caress that left her trembling in their wake.  Yet nothing changed on his
face.  Not a single hint of attraction, no longing to kiss her again.

Disappointment
warred with relief.  The kiss had been a huge mistake.  She’d never
forget the sultry heat of his mouth nor the strength of his ardor.  If he
ever set his mind to taking her to bed, she’d be hard pressed to resist. 
She didn’t want to lose her power, but she feared that his seduction would
prove her undoing. 
I want to explore my passions too badly to allow
such a sexually aggressive man into my life.

She
let a teasing smile quirk her lips.  “For trusting me.”

He
frowned and cast a glance over her shoulder at the crumbled remains of apple
pie.  “There had best be enough pie left for me.”

“I
think I can manage a piece.”

He
stared doubtfully down at the tempting pie, warm enough that the ice cream
slowly melted into creamy rivulets.  His mouth must have been watering at
the sweet, spicy scent because the long column of his throat worked on a
swallow.  “I’m not going to be as high as a kite again, am I?”

“You’re
safe,” she promised, smiling wider when he searched her face.  “That’s the
last piece.”

SIX

Daily
prep in the kitchen was one of Clare’s favorite things about working at
Remy’s
again.  She loved losing herself in the steady rock and slice of her
knife, chopping up the evening’s vegetables.  The roasting chickens in the
oven, stuffed with onions, celery, lemons, and apples, smelled like
heaven. 

Dmitri
stepped inside and took a deep, noisy breath.  “Smells great, but it seems
such a waste to spend so long on the chicken, only to throw it into soup.”

“There’s
nothing like chicken soup to heal the soul,” she replied.  “I’ll use the
best parts of the chicken for tonight’s special, too, so it won’t be
wasted.  Even without magic, there’s no better way to make chicken broth
than to slow roast the chicken first and then boil the bones.  My magic
just makes it all happen faster and better.”

Carrying
a stack of manila folders and spreadsheets, he must have been on his way to Mr.
Michelopoulos’s office, yet he lingered.  Whether drawn by the homey
scents of chicken or something else, she couldn’t tell.

He
met the sous-chef’s gaze and gave a nod toward the dining room.  Taking
the hint, the man signaled the other assistants and they quickly slipped
out. 

Something
else, then.  She continued to dice the carrots, waiting for whatever he
wanted to say.

“I’ve
known Mr. Michelopoulos for a long time.  He hired me right out of college
and I’ve never worked for anyone else since.”

She
made a low sound of acknowledgement to at least let him know she was listening.

“He’s
a good man, Ms. Remy.”

She
looked up from her work, surprised.  Why did the man feel the need to
defend his boss to her?  Whatever her personal feelings or the past with
her father, she’d never come into the kitchen and stir up rumors or
trouble.  “So he’s not a ruthless, driven businessman willing to do
whatever it takes to close the deal?”

Dmitri
flushed and shifted his weight from foot to foot.  “I didn’t say
that.  He’s certainly ruthless.  I’ve seen him take down his rivals
one by one through careful planning months, even years, ahead.  If he
decides he wants something, nothing will stop him from getting it.”

Lightly,
she said, “Then I’m certainly glad he’s a good man.”

“He
is,” Dmitri insisted.  “I know you’ve seen the bad side of him.  I’d
hate him too after he ruined my father.  But I’m trying to say that
there’s another side of him.  He takes care of his own.  He demands
the highest standards and successful results, but he also compensates
accordingly.  I’ll be able to retire in a few years and simply enjoy my
kids, instead of working eighty-hour weeks the rest of my adult life. 
That’s only possible because of him.”

“Meanwhile
your family misses you right now.”

“They
moved out here with me so we could all be together.  However, I don’t
spend as much time with them as I’d like.  Once we get
Remy’s
turned around, though…”  He hesitated, and a look of suspicion flickered
across his face that she didn’t like.  He glanced about the kitchen,
tipping his head, searching for something.

Irritated,
she slammed the knife down on the cutting board.  “There aren’t any truth
spells cast in this kitchen, Mr. LaRue.  I haven’t bespelled you into
spilling your secrets.  I certainly haven’t bugged the kitchen or poisoned
the food with drugs.  The only thing I do in here is cook!”

“I’m
sorry, Ms. Remy.”  He held out his hands beseechingly.  “I really
have no idea what it is you do.  I hadn’t even heard of the Wizard Council
until Mr. Michelopoulos admitted he’d contacted them.”

She
clamped the rising irritation down.  It wasn’t his fault that
Michelopoulos doubted her at every turn.  “Why did he contact them?”

Dmitri
turned away and headed toward the dining room, avoiding her gaze. 
“Because of the troubles here.  Thank you, Ms. Remy.  What you
managed last night was a miracle.”  He paused at the swinging door and
laughed, shaking his head.  “And what you accomplished that first night
with the contract…  Trust me, Ms. Remy.  Mr. Michelopoulos has never
met anyone like you.  You might think you’re saving the restaurant, but
you’re really saving him.” 

But
am I?
 
She wondered idly, sliding the diced vegetables into the massive stock
pot. 
And if I am, does he really deserve to be saved?

Yiorgos
looked up from the computer screen as Dmitri came into his office.  He’d
deliberately left the door open so the man wouldn’t hesitate or turn
away.  “Well?”

Dmitri
handed him the stack of papers.  “Excellent numbers last night.” 

“That’s
not what I meant.”

Dmitri
smiled but it didn’t reflect in his eyes.  “I know.  How do you feel
this morning?”

Yiorgos
scowled down at the papers.  He felt fine.  Better than fine. 
Perfectly refreshed and energetic as though he’d slept for eight hours. 
Instead, he’d spent most of the night on the phone with the Athens office and
only napped on the couch for an hour or two. 
I have no right to feel
this good.  Damned woman.  What did she spike my dinner with last
night?

“Did
you broach the subject with her yet?”

Dmitri
sighed.  “This kind of work takes time.  Real communication and
trusted exchange needs groundwork.  So no, I didn’t come right out and ask
her how to break the curse yet.  Do you honestly think she’d tell me after
one or two nights?  Besides, look at how well
Remy’s
did last
night.  There’s no need to…”

Yiorgos
tossed the papers on a distant corner of his desk.  “Whether
Remy’s
sinks or swims isn’t a financial concern to me.  I need her to think I
care about whether or not the restaurant retains its fifth-star qualification,
but honestly, I don’t.  I couldn’t care less about this little diner or
its previous owners.  I want this curse broken so I can return to my
life.  I feel like I’ve put everything on hold to be here.”

“You’ve
put everything on hold to be here?”  The disbelief in the man’s voice drew
Yiorgos’s gaze to his manager’s face.  “My wife is upset because I dragged
her to yet a new restaurant for you, after I already promised the only move
we’d make again was to the Twin Cities area so she could be near her
family.  Now I’ve uprooted her and the kids yet again and we’re no closer
to the dream we have.  My life is on hold too, Mr. Michelopoulos. 
All of your employees feel the same way.”

He
kept his tone measured and even, although his temper threatened to bubble up
and make him slam his fist down on the desk.  “You’re my employee and I
pay you very well to do as I order.”

Dmitri
nodded.  “Absolutely.  You pay us well and most of us would move to
Siberia if you asked us to.  But it’s not just the money you pay us,
sir.  Many of us value your skill as a businessman and your ability to
step into a restaurant or hotel and make something average a world-class
destination.  I would even be so bold as to call you a friend.  It’s
not the impressive salary that keeps me moving my family as you direct. 
Money doesn’t motivate everyone, and if you make that mistake with Ms. Remy…”

“Are
you saying money doesn’t motivate her?”  He didn’t think so either, but he
was curious to see what the other man thought of the woman.  “Why else is
she here?  In its heyday,
Remy’s
was worth a tidy sum to a woman
like her, and I’m offering to give it back to her.”

“I
don’t think Clare Remy gives a rat’s ass for your money.  All she cares
about is getting her father’s restaurant back and clearing his name since you
botched it with this curse.”

Yiorgos
ignored the man’s subtle dig, since they were all in this mess because of the
curse he’d accidentally unleashed.  He drummed his fingers on the
desk.  “No, no, there’s something else that she wants.  Why the
interest in her father’s ring?  Why drug me into a stupor with her magical
cake in order to write that line into the contract?”

He
stared down at the hateful thing.  He’d rip it from his finger and fling
it and the woman out on her delectable ass if he could do so without starting a
panic. 
News flash:  Zombie tycoon starts apocalypse in Timbuktu,
Missouri.

“Why
don’t you like her?”

Yiorgos
arched a brow at his friend.  “I’m that obvious?”

“I’ve
seen you at your worst, and your temper has never been this short.  Nor
have you scowled quite so much.  Is it simply because she got the best of
you with that contract?”

His
hackles rose and it was all he could do not to growl deep in his throat. 
“She drugged me.  How can you not distrust her?  She’s a witch! 
A dangerous one, obviously, if she can get the best of me.”

Dmitri
shook his head, a wry grin on his face.

“What?”

“Oh,
I’m just amused at how conceited you are.  A kitchen witch defeated the
great Yiorgos Michelopoulos, tricking him into signing a contract he drafted.”

“I
did not…”

“I
think something else is eating you.”

Yiorgos
stilled, narrowing his gaze in a silent threat the other man ignored.

“You’re
attracted to her, and the force of that attraction scares you.”

“I’m
not scared of anything but turning into a rotting corpse in front of everyone,”
he growled.  “Her magic is an unknown power that gives her an amazing
advantage.  How do we know she’s not bespelling the entire staff into
committing mass suicide or something?”

Dmitri
rolled his eyes.  “Seriously?  Not a person in this restaurant has a
negative thing to say about her other than you.  We’ve all eaten her food
without ill effect.”

“Then
how can I trust your judgment?  She’s probably brainwashing you with her
magical food!”

“None
of us were affected by her food like you,” Dmitri said softly.  “Maybe she
affects you so strongly because you feel a physical connection in addition to
her delicious culinary skill.”

“Or
maybe she slipped an aphrodisiac into my food and not yours,” Yiorgos retorted.

“Or,”
Dmitri drawled out, “maybe you’ve finally met your match and it scares you to
death.”

He
fought for a reasonable tone of voice.  “Clare Remy doesn’t scare me one
iota.”

“Prove
it.  Quit accusing her at every turn and give her a chance.”

“I’ve
given her a chance—I’ve given her my restaurant!”

“I
mean for you.  Give her a chance to show you what her magic can and cannot
do.  Get to know her as a woman and not a witch.  Who knows what
you’ll find?”

Absently
twisting the ring on his finger, Yiorgos stared into space, mulling over the
other man’s words.  Hatred was simply fear wearing a vicious mask. 
He’d never thought he would be accused of either hatred or fear, but he’d never
had such a strong, visceral reaction to anyone before.  He filtered his
reactions through his mind, trying to decide if he’d been reasonable…or
judgmental.  Open-minded…or obtuse.  High-handed…

He
sighed.  Guilty as charged.

His
phone rang, and the identity of the caller gave him an idea.  “Ms.
Kettlewich, I’m so pleased you called.”

“I
was just checking on Clare to make sure she was doing all right.”  He
didn’t know the woman, but her voice sounded vaguely reproachful.  As
though the little witch might actually be in danger or harmed because of
him.  “I know she’s probably very busy, but she didn’t answer my call.”

“Ms.
Remy has been quite a fireball of enthusiasm,” he replied wryly.  “If
you’re so worried about her, why don’t you come by this afternoon, Ms.
Kettlewich?”

“Oh,
I couldn’t intrude.”

“Nonsense. 
I actually have a little experiment I want to try.”

Now
he had her interest.  “What kind of experiment?  I won’t set Clare up
in any fashion, just so you know in advance.”

“No,
of course not.”  His voice remained smooth.  Thankfully she couldn’t
see the wicked smirk on his face.  “I admit to feeling some…reservations. 
I was hoping you could clarify a few things for me.”

“Reservations
about Clare?  Mr. Michelopoulos, allow me to reassure you that I’ve never
known a more trustworthy, hardworking—”

“That’s
not what I meant,” he broke in.  “My concern lies with magic itself. 
I admit to feeling rather unsure about her skills and what they mean to my
clientele.  I thought if I could see your magic in action and compare it
to Clare’s, I might have a better understanding of what she’s
accomplished.” 
And whether my suspicions are correct.

“I
see.  Surely you know that I’m her mentor and a member of the Wizard
Council, which means my power is much more refined and considerable than
hers.  If you’re looking to embarrass her in any way…”

“Absolutely
not.  I simply want to sample another kitchen witch’s magic for
comparison.”