Page 4 of Chef's Kiss

He reaches forward and selects the ones he wants, the tips of his long, calloused fingers brushing across the back of my hands.

I feel like I stuck my finger in a wall socket and my head is being whipped to a pulp in one of his mixing bowls, like cream.

“Perfect,” he says, taking two. Alexa quickly types in the codes for them and he taps his payment.

“Chef’s Kiss,” he says. “That’s the show. Just ask for it when you come to the studio lot and they’ll show you right there.”

“I’m just starting a new job so I might not—“

“Market research. You should come. It will help with your job. See you there,” he says and turns before I have a chance to say another word.

I just stare, watching his wide back and oh so perfect tush walk out the front door, the jingle of the bells signaling me like Pavlov’s dog. But it doesn’t make me hungry. It makes me terribly sad.

“Which are you gonna clean up first? That coffee or the puddle of drool you’re making right now staring at him?” Alexa asks.

I swallow, noticing all the saliva in my mouth for the first time.

“I’ll get the coffee. Sorry about that.”

“You can just keep stalking the shelves when you’re done. I’ll be back when I finish these customers. Today might be too early to start with the register.”

I nod, and hurry back away from all the angry faces that are staring at me as if I’m the one that kept them waiting. And in some ways I guess I did.

But I’ve been waiting my whole life for a moment like what just happened. It wasn’t even a fantasy of mine because there was just no way it could happen.

I thought.

And my thoughts are still on what did just happen.

He’s a celebrity, a public figure, and he has to be nice to people.

But Alexa said he’s always in a hurry and he didn’t even look at her. Alexa is the reason nobody was yelling the whole time he was standing there. With her Henley top that was open about two buttons too far, her impossible hips to waist ratio, those dainty shoulders, perfect skin, straight white teeth…I could go on all day. I mean, I’m perfectly straight and I can still acknowledge and admire her beauty.

But am I losing my mind or did it feel like Christian was admiring me?

I’m new. I’m his target market. There’s just no way, I remind myself as I head back to get the mop.

Maybe in another lifetime…although that Eastern North Carolina Vinegar Barbecue Sauce did sound intriguing, and a little bit serendipitous for someone named Charlotte.

Nah, I still don’t believe it.

CHAPTER 2

Christian

“Don’t ever remember you being at the lot this early, sir,” Larry, the studio security guard says.

“Big show today. Gonna need some extra prep time.”

He gives me a nod and presses the button so the metal arm attached to the guard shack raises and I drive through.

Truth is the lot is closer than my house, and I needed to get somewhere private, and fast, to do something about this extreme need for her.

Seconds later I jerk the steering wheel to the side, pulling into my reserved spot, cutting the gas, and putting my elbow into the door all in one move.

The steering wheel isn’t the only thing that needs jerking.

Visuals of those bright blue eyes of hers and that blonde hair falling across her shoulders have me more worked up than I’ve ever been before. And I have to know if the color of her hair is the same below.

Does she have it, so I can see it when I run my tongue across her folds? Or does she keep a light dusting of fur, only bringing out more of the savage, feral side of me she’s already awakened?

If she knew the thoughts racing through my mind right now she’d think I was beyond perverse. But all the ways I wanna make her mine definitely include some things I’m pretty sure she’s not ready for.

She’s just so damn innocent, so perfect, and unlike any other woman I’ve met in showbiz, let alone Hollywood or all of Southern California for that matter. All the girls these days, and most of the women, are trying to stand out in any way they can.

They show more skin. They damn near sell themselves online for followers. And they throw themselves at men on dating apps for both attention and short-lived sexual pleasure. Where’s the pleasure in that?

Right, there isn’t any.

These people think a quick release is something to aim for, something to brag about? I’ve never been a short term thinker, not to mention how amazing it would be to connect with someone on every level, body, mind, and soul, as corny as that sounds shooting through my thoughts right now, but it’s true. The connection, the delayed gratification, and then the ultimate payoff.

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