Bachelor's Special Read Free Page A

from her lungs. “What would you like to know?”
    Calm down. You can talk cooking in your sleep. Then how come her heart had found a new home in her knees?
    “When you’re in the kitchen, do you have one area you work at a time, as in the appetizer or the entrée, or do you jump from course to course?” That slight twitch at the left corner of his mouth drew her attention and her tummy somersaulted.
    “Depends on your rank, and also the kitchen. Each one runs differently, depending on the head chef.”
    “Does each kitchen have their own baker, or do they hire out the work to a bakery?” His eyes sparkled.
    “Again, it depends on the kitchen and the restaurant.”
    “Are you a chef who can manage both? Can you cook the appetizers and entrées as well as desserts?”
    She grabbed the water glass from the table and took another shaky sip before lowering it back to the white linen tablecloth. Several droplets spilled over the edge, dotting her knuckles.
    Desserts?
    Their encounter involved a dessert. A cake, to be exact.
    Coincidence? “Y-yes,” she squeaked.
    “Even birthday cakes?”
    Jill shoved her chair back. The sound, like fingernails on a chalkboard, dragged down her spine until she clenched her teeth. Oh my God, he knows.
    “How— What…?” Jill couldn’t think. She stood so fast she lost her footing, but before she tumbled into the table, Chet caught her in his strong arms. His heat smoldered through his jacket, sending darts of awareness across her body. She pushed at his chest with flat palms, but he didn’t budge. More than likely because her strength matched that of an overcooked noodle.
    Lights overhead twinkled, fading from bright to dim. The ground beneath her quaked—or maybe it was her legs giving out. Jill squeezed her eyes closed when the room swam then spun in a dizzying motion. Unsure how much longer she could remain standing, she grabbed the lapels of his jacket for support.
    “Take a breath.” He held her firm. His fingers dug into her flesh—not cruelly, but with a silent strength. He steered her to the chair and folded her into it.
    Jill gulped for air, then felt, rather than saw, a glass of water thrust into her hands. When her fingers folded over Chet’s warm grasp, her stomach squirmed. She drank heavily from the crystal goblet. Cool liquid put out the fire burning its way up her throat.
    “I’m sorry,” she choked out between puffs of air.
    “For what?” His lips softened, curving into a lopsided smile.
    Insanity filled her, as it had done that night. She ached to press her mouth against his. Instead, she leaned back, dragging the cedar-chip scent of his cologne along with her. She despised herself. Where the hell had her common sense gone?
    “For the c-cake.”
    A low-pitched, sexy throb escaped his lips—a chuckle being squashed. Although it should’ve been reassuring, her brain didn’t inform the panic chewing its way up her backbone.
    “I’m over it.” He brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek. The heat of his touch did crazy things to her flesh, and she sucked in a breath of air as warmth spread through her.
    “When did you know?”
    “The moment you mentioned cooking.”
    “How?” Her heart risked leaking out the peep-toe tips of her heels.
    “Your face lit up, your eyes glowed. But what really sealed the deal was your smile. I’ll never forget the curve of your lips when you smile. From the moment I walked into that kitchen—”
    “My smile?”
    Chet pulled the water glass from her fingers.
    “I don’t think I could ever forget you. I’m not blind. You’re easy on the eyes, for sure. Even more so when you talk about something you regard with such passion.”
    Her heart skipped a beat at his thinly veiled compliment, but at the same time a line of moisture dotted the nape of her neck for the predicament she found herself in.
    “So you left employment at Creations to go it alone?”
    Jill took a gulp of air to calm her nerves. Chet had no idea