Some Like It Hot Read Free

wings and lugged it back to the rotisserie to try again.
    Robert moved to block her way. “Sorry, but no. It’ll fry in less than half the time.”
    The kitchen had gone completely silent. The trio of prep cooks were no longer slicing and dicing, but staring open-mouthed, waiting with knives poised to see what was going to happen next.
    Melanie couldn’t say why getting her way on this issue was so important, but the need was an aching heaviness in her heart. Maybe because the anniversary of her father’s death was just around the corner. Maybe because her own family didn’t have enough faith in her to give her the executive chef position. Not that she even wanted the job, but it would have been nice of them to have asked. It would have made her feel wanted, at least.
    Or maybe it was because no matter how much she disliked Robert, she was powerfully attracted to him and feared she would end up sleeping with the guy and making a huge mess of her life again if she didn’t watch her step.
    Melanie dodged around him and manipulated the turkey’s shoulders into the rotisserie. If she just pushed hard enough, she could make it happen.
    “You’re going to hurt yourself,” Robert said, and reached for one of the legs.
    “Back off,” she barked, surprised by the anxiety knotting her stomach.
    “You’re upset about something more than the turkey. Let’s go into my office and talk this through.”
    The last place she wanted to be was confined in his tiny office. She didn’t trust herself to be alone with him. How pathetic was that?
    “No.”
    Robert tried to wrench the turkey from her grasp, butMelanie clung to it as if her life depended on it being roasted in chocolate and hot peppers instead of injected with Cajun seasoning and fried in peanut oil. In the process, her elbow hit the jar of olive oil, tipping it over. Apparently, she hadn’t replaced the lid tightly enough. Oil drizzled down the counter and trickled across the floor.
    “Let go,” she said.
    “Not until you tell me what’s really upsetting you.”
    Melanie glared. She wasn’t about to tell him that what was really bothering her was this infernal attraction to him. She pulled away sharply, but still he held on to the turkey.
    Her kitchen clogs skidded in the slippery oil. Her legs shot out from under her and she landed hard on her bottom, the turkey flying from her hands and Robert’s.
    It smacked against something in the distance with a solid, wet thunk.
    Robert let out a curse as momentum shot him forward and he, too, slipped in the olive oil, lost his balance and came crashing down.
    Just in the nick of time he thrust out his arms and caught himself before crushing Melanie beneath him.
    He ended up positioned directly above her as if he were doing push-ups, her legs pinned beneath his.
    She froze.
    He gazed down at her with those deep, ocean-colored eyes. Her chest heaved beneath the thin cotton material of her turquoise tank top.
    She was trapped.
    And totally not hating it.
    In fact, Melanie was holding her breath, waiting for him to kiss her.
    His hands rested on either side of her body, his forearms almost grazing the swell of her breasts, his pelvis poised just inches above hers.
    She realized that somehow his fingers had gotten tangled in her ponytail, and he was looking at her as if she were a Mardi Gras feast.
    She gulped and commanded herself not to blush.
    Her body tingled, sparking off the hot expression in his eyes. Her stomach tumbled in a free fall. The way he looked at her was foreplay of the most provocative kind.
    Hot and lingering. Anticipatory and edgy.
    Her heart raced like a high-performance Ferrari engine. She tipped her hips forward.
    They breathed deeply together, watching, waiting.
    For the first time, she noticed he had a faint scar that started just above his right ear and disappeared into his hairline. It was straight and clean, as if it had been made by a razor or a knife in one long slicing motion.
    Something