Page 24 of Sinfully Shameless Chef

The driver climbs out and comes around with a clipboard in his hand and approaches me. “Isabella?”

“Yes, that's me.”

He narrows his dark eyes. “Are you okay, ma'am?”

“Huh?”

Why wouldn’t I be okay?

He motions toward my cheek. “Um, your face. You have a big red mark.”

“Oh! Shit!” I reach up and rub my hand across it several times to work away the evidence of my little impromptu nap. Embarrassing. But my life seems to be full of those moments, especially lately. I motion back toward the restaurant. “I just fell asleep. It was an imprint from my little nap.”

He chuckles and nods. “Man, I could use one of those, but I have a long day ahead and a delivery for you. I just need you to sign here.”

I take his clipboard and sign without even reading it. That’s probably bad. A real, put-together businesswoman would examine the paperwork and know what she’s signing. That clearly isn’t me. Not when the excitement over what he has in that truck bubbles under my skin and makes me practically bounce in place.

This is like Christmas morning!

The only thing that could make it any better would be if Grams were here. Or if Jameson weren’t. So, I guess two things could really make this day perfect. Too bad I won’t be getting either.

The driver tosses the clipboard back into the truck and moves toward the back. “I’ll have it in there in a few minutes.”

For some reason, this delivery feels like moving a massive step closer to my ultimate goal. Even though my to-do list is still huge, having the kitchen complete feels like Grandma’s Kitchen is finally real. I can nail down my menu and get final inspections scheduled.

Progress.

And this delivery is more than just getting a necessary item. Securing this range was not easy, and it's the one piece of kitchen equipment I truly splurged on. There were other options. Less expensive ones. Many of them. But ever since culinary school, I dreamed of having this spaceship of a stove, of creating Grams’ classics as well as brand new recipes on it.

It’s the kind of hardware chefs fantasize about, and now, I’ll have my grabby little hands on it.

The door to Jameson's place opens, instantly shattering the joy I’m feeling in this moment. That’s apparently all it takes now to ruin my day—a threat of a run-in with that man.

He saunters out, looking dangerously hot with his disheveled hair like he just rolled out of bed and his muscular arms exposed in his snug T-shirt.

Christ, why does he have to be so sexy?

He motions toward the truck. “You going to block my sun all day?

I scowl and cross my arms over my chest. “Very funny, since you’re the one blocking us from using this spot for its actual purpose right now.”

He snorts and grins at me in a way that goes straight between my legs. Jameson is a man who knows what he does to women. It’s written in every smirk, smile, grin, wink, or waggle of an eyebrow. Men like him use it to their advantage, too, to charm the “weaker sex” and get what they want.

Well, he won’t get it from me.

He wants me to cave and give up. He wants to crush the competition before I even open. But I’ve been fighting too many things for too long to let an arrogant, shameless man like Jameson Fury get in my way.

The driver raises the back door of the delivery truck, and I move behind it to watch him unload—and to put a little more distance between myself and the ridiculously hot chef who makes my blood boil.

Of course, Jameson steps up right next to me, watching intently while the driver maneuvers the range onto the lift that will bring it down to the ground.

One of the pieces of cardboard pressed to the side falls away, and Jameson freezes and takes a step toward the truck. “Is that…” He glances back at me and points to the massive piece of equipment. “Is that the seventy-two inch Vulcan with dual convection and steam?”

I smirk at him, not even trying to hide my glee. “Sure is.”

His jaw drops almost to the street we’re standing on. “How in the hell did you manage that? I've been trying to get one for weeks.”

Aha. Finally. A victory.

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