Page 26 of Her Irresistible Sheik
Damn that raspberry dessert.Damn his weakness.
Chapter 15
Heather stepped into the back of the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks.The tray of scones Princess Nahla had baked still sat untouched—well, mostly untouched—on the counter.That wasn’t unusual.The scones looked like miniature cement discs with powdered sugar on top.Whatwasunusual was the faint pink smudge on the floor.
She blinked.Then stepped closer.
Flour had been swept up…badly.There were still streaks across the tile like someone had half-heartedly pushed a mop through it during a fire drill.But it was the reddish-brown splotches that gave her pause.
That wasn’t raspberry sauce.She’d just served the last of that to the royal pain and the pretty photographer twenty minutes ago.And—was that…?
No.
Oh, hell no.
Bending slightly, Heather squinted at the small, pale object glinting beside the trash bin.
“Atooth?”she whispered.
Straightening with a shudder, she took three generous steps back, nearly tripping over a stool.“Oh,absolutely not,” she muttered, grabbing the wall phone with the same urgency she reserved for exploding soufflés.
This was not part of her culinary dream.She had survived three Gordon Ramsay impersonators, opened two Michelin-recognized restaurants, and once reattached a server’s pants with cooking twine and a prayer—butthis?
This was new.
Five minutes later, her kitchen staff was re-assembled.She surveyed them with hands on hips and that familiar mother-of-the-kitchen look that meant she was moments away from issuing clipboard-related consequences.
“Okay,” she said calmly.“Let’s keep this simple.Who lost a tooth yesterday?”
Dead silence.Everyone looked around, waiting for someone to ‘fess up about a missing tooth.
Nothing.No one raised their hand.
Impatiently, she straightened and looked at her staff.“You heard me.Tooth.Out.”She flicked her cheek.“Missing from your face.Possibly fell on the floor.”She gestured to the offensive tooth as if it were a crime scene.
More silence.A few more side glances.One shrug.
Heather pursed her lips.“Look, I’m not mad.Accidents happen.I just need to know how yourtoothended up in the middle of my almost-clean kitchen.”
Still nothing.
Okay, this wasn’t good.She had a gut feeling this wasn’t a case of aggressive chewing.Something was wrong.And Heather trusted her instincts more than she trusted half her pastry staff with piping bags.
“Thank you everyone.”As the staff dispersed, she snatched the phone again and called security.
Which is how Tom entered her kitchen ten minutes later.
Big.Broad.Blue-eyed.With a face like a carved mountain and a voice that sounded like it had been aged in whiskey and sharpened with gravel.
He walked in, scanned the room with all the calm menace of a lion at a buffet, and locked eyes with her.
Heather blinked up at him.
Okay.Fine.Maybe her ovaries hiccuped.
Just once.
“What’s going on?”he asked, stepping closer.
