Page 51 of Sinfully Shameless Chef

Avoiding him?

Definitely not. Though I may have extended my stay in bed a little longer than needed because I just wasn’t sure what to say to him when I did see him.

“Uh, nope. Not avoiding you. I wasn’t feeling well.”

Shit.

That just slipped out. More than I wanted him to know, for sure. If this man smells weakness, he’ll pounce on it like a lion who finds an injured gazelle in the Sahara.

He stills behind me, then his hand leaves mine on the spoon, and he uses it to turn my head to the side to meet his gaze. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Gosh, that almost sounded sweet.

“Oh, God no. Nothing like that. Just tired. Needed to recharge a bit.”

A tiny grin pulls at the corner of his mouth. “Good.” He glances over his shoulder toward the door out into the restaurant. “And you’ll probably need to do it again after spending the night with my family. I’m apologizing ahead of time for anything they say or do that’s going to be wildly inappropriate. I wasn’t really prepared to have you thrown into this mix.”

I chuckle and stir. “I doubt they can do or say anything that bad.”

He laughs into my ear, his chest vibrating against my back before he steps away from me. “You don’t know Bash.”

The loss of his body heat radiating through me is like getting doused with a bucket of ice water.

Jameson pressed against me shouldn’t feel so good. I shouldn’t let it. This whole thing is a recipe for disaster. And just because he kissed my neck doesn’t mean he wants a repeat of the other night. Or that I should want one.

Dammit. This was so much easier when I tried to hate the guy.

13

IZZY

“I’m sorry. I don’t really follow sports.” I shrug in apology and take a sip of my water. “I never would have known if you hadn’t mentioned it.”

Greer laughs and smacks Bash in the chest. “Oh, stop it. Don’t apologize. I wouldn’t expect anyone to know who I am.” She hitches her thumb toward Jameson’s brother. “But this guy, he’s the one with the ego. You may have mortally wounded him.”

I chuckle, relieving a bit of the tension that had formed in my shoulders when everyone was discussing “the game” they’re in town for and I had absolutely no clue what they were talking about.

Now knowing Bash played in the NHL and Greer coaches, I vaguely remember hearing at least his name at one point in time. Probably Ashley ogling him on the cover of some sports magazine or something.

But I never would have put two and two together on my own, let alone recognized either Bash or Greer without Flynn jumping in to rescue me with some basic knowledge about the Fury legacy and how Bash and Greer ended up together—somewhat scandalously apparently.

Hockey royalty.

I never would have guessed it. Jameson seems about the least likely person I’ve ever met to go play a violent sport like hockey, yet apparently, his father was one of the best in the game and his brother was at the top of his when he retired. “Jameson, how come you didn’t end up in the NHL?”

Rachel and Bash exchange a look and laugh, but Jameson’s face almost immediately hardens, and he goes stiff in his chair beside me. I hadn’t missed the tension radiating off him when the conversation turned this direction, but my question seems to have struck some sort of nerve I didn’t intend.

He swallows whatever was in his mouth and takes a long drink of his wine. “I was never very interested in it. That was Dad and Bash’s thing.”

His tone makes it unmistakable that’s the end of that conversation.

I clear my throat. “Is that how you ended up cooking?”

He glances at me out of the corner of his eye and nods. “Yeah, spent a lot of time with our mom.”

Who I insulted pretty badly when we first met…

Cringing internally, I take another bite of my mouth-watering lamb, waiting for someone else to take the lead on another topic of conversation—any topic at this point to break up the thick air of discomfort hanging over the table.

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