Page 24 of Catching Mr. Right

Chapter Ten

SAM

I glower at the creep’s retreating back. I don’t know what she sees in that asshole, other than her weird fetish for older men. Has to be daddy issues, doesn’t it? She’s trying to replace her father, or some such shit? I wiggle the tightness from my jaw, shove my hands in my pockets, because the only better place to put them is on her hips. “Are you all right? What’s his problem?”

“No problem,” she says, biting her lip as she ogles his ass. “Cas is always a little dark and broody.”

“That’s a type, isn’t it? A thing? Women go gaga over dark and broody?” I roll my gaze to the ceiling. It’s so fucking loud in Mayhem tonight, that’s probably where this damn headache is coming from. It has nothing to do with how tense I feel after watching that dick put his hands all over her. If he’d treated my sister like that I would have had to kick his ass. But Mandy’s not my sister. Thank God, because the half-wood I’m still trying to kill would have been entirely out of place in that situation. And yep, that does it. Wood be gone. “What does Summer call it again?”

“Giving good face.” Mandy smiles. “Personally, I prefer sweet guys.”

The way she says it, I get the feeling she isn’t talking about sweet guys at all, but about me, and my last name. I brush it off, pretend I didn’t notice. “Is he coming back?”

“I don’t know.” She pats her skirt down and the sequins change shades, drawing my attention as she makes to walk off. “I should probably go find him.”

“No.” I whip my hand out of my pocket and grab her. My fingers encircle her delicate wrist, stopping her from leaving. Stupid. What the hell am I doing, not thinking before I act? I should be happy she’s dating this Casper jackass. Not doing… whatever this is. I grimace as Mandy turns to me, her mouth partly open. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I just…” Crap. What? I just find myself getting jealous because she’s dating some guy? And why? No, seriously, somebody tell me, because I am dying to know. Christ, she’s not old enough to take up this much space in my brain. There are things I’m supposed to want at this age, and she isn’t one of them.

“Look, I should go.” She points her thumb over her shoulder and backs up. Somehow, I’m still holding onto her arm, so she doesn’t get far.

I stare at my own hand, as though it’s the appendage that’s disobeying my brain, then reluctantly drop it to my side. “Have a drink with me. Just one. He’ll probably come find you in a minute anyway.”

“One,” she says, and then her smile lights up her face. “That’s all, though.”

“Okay then.” Why do I feel like I’ve been played? That somehow this little girl has gotten the better of me without even trying? I step closer, touch my fingers to the small of her back. “What will you have?”

***

“You should tell that sleaze you’re done with him.” I hold the door of the building open for her to enter before me. One drink became two, and then four. Somewhere around five I said to hell with it, although I still didn’t drink so much that I don’t recognize she should be with her boyfriend right now. And I’m smart enough to bring her to the restaurant and not my hotel room.

Mandy giggles. Too many ‘strawberry whatever the hells’ she kept drinking after Casper texted her to tell her he’d gone home without her. What kind of a jackass drops his girl like that?

“Cas isn’t a sleaze. He’s a great guy when you get to know him. But he’s, I don’t know.” She scrunches up her brow and taps a pink fingernail against her bottom lip. “He’s had a rough life I think. He’s forgotten how to behave around people.”

She treads across the wooden floor, careful to step around the mess of wood shavings, loose nails, and other construction debris left by the work crew, to the thick plastic sheeting that still hangs in wide streamers between the dining room and the kitchen. The plastic crinkles and dust flies into the air as she tugs it aside. She gawks at the kitchen as I come up behind her. Stainless steel benches, warmers, ovens, burners. Most of the kitchen is in place though it still needs to be wired into the new layout. In no time at all it will be a hive of activity. Chefs hustling and bustling around, aromas and kitchen sounds filling the air.

“Wow,” she says, kind of breathy. “Cas would love this. He’s always comparing the Bennington kitchen to the restaurant where he learned in Paris.”

“And you?” I don’t care what he thinks of my kitchen. There’s no way I’d let him step foot in it. Even if the man’s earned his own four Michelin stars. Even if five years ago he was running one of the swankier eateries in Manhattan before he trotted off to Europe for a skirt. According to my contacts rumor was the girl died in some kind of freak accident. Must have left the guy gutted. It’s not particularly fair, I suppose, but when I see him with Mandy, I can’t stand the prick. It makes me bristle all over, makes me want to stand between them no matter what it takes.

“It’s sexy.” She glances up at me over her shoulder. We stand so close, but I don’t dare touch her. I don’t press closer so that the heat of her becomes a weight against my skin. I don’t rasp my palms up and down her bare arms to see if the spark between us grows. I don’t inhale so that the scent of her skin and her faded shampoo drives a wedge of need into my brain.

“Sexy?” I chuckle under my breath, unable to keep from labelling the beautiful girl in front of me as sexy too. “That’s different.”

She turns now, her hands behind her back, takes a step away so she doesn’t have to crane her neck so much. “There’s something about a well-equipped kitchen that’s just impressive, don’t you think?”

“Impressive, huh?” I shift closer. Can’t help it. I like when she’s right there, in front of me, close enough to touch, far enough away I’m not doing anything stupid, like smoothing my hand over her hip. Or kissing her. The other day we’d come so close.

“Yeah. Impressive and the perfect size. Not too big, definitely not too small.”

Christ, I’m instantly erect. Rock hard all the way to my toes. I let out a little feral growl, and she startles. Her gaze drifts to the bulge in my pants and she licks her lips. What’s one taste of this peculiar, striking girl? Everything? Nothing? “Exactly right.”

“I know,” she whispers. “The perfect… kitchen.”

“And how do you know that?” I stalk after her as she moves backwards into the kitchen. Winding an arm around her waist, I lift her onto the stainless steel, then settle my hands on her hips, smooth them down her thighs to her knees, and push them apart.

“Talent.” Her voice is so breathy and light. It makes my cock throb, and my pulse hammer against my jaw.

Standing between her legs, I grasp her chin, rub my thumb across her jaw in a feather light touch as I lower my mouth to hers. The way she looks at me makes my heart trip, the tremor under her skin where I touch her creates a corresponding ripple in my pulse. I suck her bottom lip between my teeth, press down gently on it. She tastes like strawberries and sugar and lemon. Her breath is warm and accompanied by the rise and fall of her tits. I cup one of those perky breasts, trace a finger over the diamond point as I stroke my tongue over hers. The way my blood is pumping through my veins, the fizz over my nerves wherever we touch makes me feel wild, insatiable, greedy. Things I haven’t felt in years, not since I was a kid. “What talent might that be?”

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