Guilty Pleasures Read Free

“Tonight’s fine,” he said curtly.
    â€œGreat.” She walked over to a cupboard, pulled out an apron and a chef’s toque, a smaller hat than he was used to. “You’ll be working the line…setting up the ‘meez’, expediting orders, whatever else I need you to do,” she said.
    The “meez” or mise-en-place was the setup of basic ingredients. So she was going to have him chopping onions and the like, and calling out orders.
    He’d show her, he thought.
    He pulled off his coat and placed it on the desk. Then he removed his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves, pulling on the apron. “Where do you want me?” he said.
    She smiled, a wicked, sensual smile that he was sure was unconscious, even if it sent a blast of heat through his system.
    â€œI haven’t determined if I want you yet or not,” she said slowly, the smile mocking him. “But you’ll be the first to know.”
    He was tired, too tired to play games. He stepped up to her until they were only inches apart, gratified by the way her eyes widened like saucers.
    â€œTrust me,” he said, in a low voice. “You’ll want me.”
    They stood like that for a moment, face to face, challenging. And could have cooked something just from the sudden, inexplicable heat between them.
    She was the one who broke eye contact first. Her smile faltered slightly, then came back in full force.
    â€œWell, then… stud, ” she said. “Get on with it. Let’s see if you’re everything you think you are.”
    Â 
    M ARI COULD STILL FEEL the heat from Nick’s gaze, an hour later, sequestered in the back room with her best friend and the restaurant’s business manager, Lindsay.
    â€œHe certainly is good looking,” Lindsay said, with her usual understated tone. “But can he cook?”
    Mari nodded. “He’s not just a pretty face, from what I’ve seen. He’s efficient, he’s thorough, and he seems to know what he’s doing.”
    Lindsay smiled demurely. Her shoulder-length blond bob was streaked with highlights, but her crystal-sharp green eyes were shrewd. “And you want him.”
    Boy, do I ever, Mari thought, then shook it off. That wasn’t what Lindsay was asking—that wasn’t something Lindsay would ask. “Yeah. Ever since Rinaldo quit to move to New York, we’ve been running shorthanded, and I’ve been making up the difference. I’d like to start sleeping again.” She’d like to start sleeping with someone again. Although at this point in her restaurant’s nascent stages, only six months in business, a social life still seemed out of the question. She looked at the sleek black laptop Lindsay had propped up on the scarred desk surface. “The question is—can I afford him?”
    Lindsay’s brow furrowed with concentration. “It doesn’t look good, I have to tell you that,” she said. “We haven’t picked up enough business, Mari. You’re maintaining a decent profit margin, but we’re not putting out enough meals.”
    If anybody would be able to tell the future of a restaurant’s business, it would be Lindsay…not only was she an MBA and a crack accountant, her parents had owned a restaurant since Lindsay was a kid, and Lindsay’s head for numbers had revealed itself at an early age. Mari took a glance at the spreadsheet, and nodded grimly. “So I can’t hire him?” That caused a pang—and not just from the standpoint of finally getting some rest.
    She hated to admit it, but he was very good looking. And, just as sexy, he was a hell of a cook. For someone as interested in the culinary arts as Mari, the way a man handled himself in the kitchen was an indication of how he handled himself elsewhere.
    She got the feeling Nick would be an expert in the kitchen…and other places.
    She shook the thought off, waiting for