Page 25 of Sinfully Shameless Chef

The score may still be Jameson five, me only one, but at least I'm on the board now. Having something he wants shouldn’t give me such joy, but the weight resting on my shoulders placed there by what’s been happening with him and the impending fight over our openings suddenly feels lighter somehow.

“It wasn't easy to get.” A miracle, really. But I’m not going to let him know how much work I had to put into it and how I almost cried, thinking I wasn’t going to succeed. “I called Vulcan and around to every supplier and had them put me on the top of a waitlist if anyone canceled an order or one randomly came in used or on return. I told them to call me with literally any leads on one.”

“Shit.” He clenches his jaw, and the heat of anger reddens his neck. “I should've done that.”

I don’t bother fighting the smug grin pulling at my lips, and I turn and offer him a shrug. “Yep. Guess you should’ve. Sorry.”

Not sorry.

It's about time Jameson feels what it's like to be on the losing side. It can't be good for his already inflated ego to keep having things go his way all the time. Not good at all. A man like this needs to be knocked down a peg or two regularly to be reminded he’s human and not some god.

Jameson eyes my prize with a lust I'm sure most women would kill to have directed at them. The driver starts to move it toward my door, but Jameson holds out a hand, stopping him, and turns back to me. “I'll buy it from you.”

“What the hell?”

The man has clearly lost his mind.

His jaw hardens. “I'll buy it from you.”

I snort and shake my head. “Uh, no. You won't.”

“You paid what? Twenty grand? I'll give you double what you paid.”

Until this moment, I wasn’t aware it was possible to choke on one’s own saliva just trying to swallow, but somehow, I do and sputter out a cough. “What? That's insane.”

A muscle tics in his jaw as he glances between the range and me. “Let's not beat around the bush here, Isabella. I want that shiny new range. You have it. But one thing I have that you don’t is deep pockets.” His typically hard bourbon eyes soften slightly. “Can you honestly tell me that having an extra forty thousand dollars wouldn't be potentially a game-changer for you right now?”

Well, shit. He has me there.

I glance at the stove and sigh. That kind of money would make a huge difference in what I'm able to accomplish in the grand scheme of things. Game-changer doesn’t even begin to describe what it would mean.

But this is my one win. I don’t want to lose it just because it might stretch my budget a bit—or a lot. A whole hell of a lot.

He steps closer to me, lowering his voice so the delivery man waiting impatiently can’t hear him. “Isabella, don't dismiss my offer outright just because you hate me.”

“Hate you?” I shake my head and run my hands through my hair, pushing the strays back into my bun. “I don't know that I hate you.”

It’s a strong word and not one I use lightly. It breeds the kind of poison in your system I already have enough of. While I definitely find him pompous and annoying, I don’t know that I hate the man standing next to me.

Jameson chuckles and leans in a little closer—too close for what I would consider proper etiquette. Even outside with the smells of Brooklyn surrounding us, a rich, spicy scent invades my next inhaled breath with him only inches from me. “I'm happy to hear that. Though, I don't know that I believe you.”

Neither do I.

I don’t know what I believe when it comes to Jameson. He’s as infuriating and arrogant as he is handsome and talented. It makes it really hard to say no to him…

About this. Definitely just about this.

* * *

JAMESON

Standing this close to Isabella, it’s easy to momentarily forget what I’m trying to accomplish here. The woman twists me up in ways that make me very uncomfortable, especially when that sweet cinnamon scent floats off her and toward me, coming into my lungs with every breath even though we’re outside in the warm summer air.

And while she says she doesn’t hate me, the animosity with which she’s greeting my offer suggests otherwise. This is a no-brainer. A way for her to pocket forty grand by doing nothing. Yet, she seems unwilling to budge.

No matter what she says, she definitely hates me.

The beauty next door takes a deep breath and releases it in a huff. “Even though I don’t hate you, Jameson—despite what I’m sure you think and the fact that you’ve given me every reason to—I can’t accept your offer. As much as I may need that money, I need the range more.”

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