Page 85 of Sinfully Shameless Chef

Heat floods my core just thinking about what he did with his hands. The beautiful food he created. How he touched so much more than just my body. How he reached inside to my soul and made me feel so…complete.

And I destroyed him. I used the words I knew would hurt him the worst to push him away.

I bury my face in my hands and shake my head. “I can't. I just…can't.”

“Please, Isabella, just give me five minutes. And then, if you want, Ashley will bring you home.” His voice doesn’t waver or reveal anything.

Is he still mad? Does he hate me?

I force my head up and glance at her. A naughty grin tugs the corner of her lips as she doesn't even bother to hide her amusement at the situation.

Yeah, real fucking funny. I'll get her back for this.

One thing the Jameson situation has taught me is that I am capable of coming up with some pretty good tricks of my own. She’ll pay for her betrayal once I’m done dealing with whatever Jameson wants.

You can do this, Iz. Five minutes…

With the man who almost broke you…

Because letting him in and letting myself believe in something I could never have almost did break me. But now, I’ve survived a kidney transplant. I can survive Jameson Fury for five fucking minutes.

I hope.

After a deep breath and intake of courage, I reach out and place my hand in his. His strong, warm palm wraps around mine, and he gives me a gentle tug. I unbuckle my seatbelt with my free hand and let him pull me from the car slowly.

Jameson’s being so careful, so gentle with me. The very thing I hate so much, even if it might be a little bit warranted due to the pain I’m still in.

He pulls me from the car until I'm standing, facing him on the street; the only thing between us is the chilly fall air and the harsh words that were spoken. His hands reaches out to brush a stray hair behind my ear, and I have to physically fight the desire to lean into his warm palm and embrace his touch.

Instead, I take a fortifying breath. A familiar scent mingles with the one that’s all Jameson.

Food.

Something I’ve eaten before.

Something that makes my mouth water and my stomach rumble.

“What’s that?” I glance over his shoulder at our restaurants—at least until my half gets leased to someone else. His sign isn't lit. Besides, he never struck me as a breakfast-joint-type chef. “Are you open?”

He shakes his head. “No. But I have something to show you.” His grip on my hand tightens, and he tugs me forward, but not toward his door, toward mine. “Come on.”

“What are you doing? Where are we going?”

He glances back at me with humor dancing in his eyes. Whatever animosity he had for me that day when I said those terrible words and forced him out of my life seems to have dissipated over time. Either that or he's a hell of a good actor.

I let him open the door to my place and drag me into the unknown.

* * *

JAMESON

Izzy follows me into the restaurant tentatively, as if she’s waiting for some massive prank like a bucket of water to fall on her head.

She doesn't trust me.

Maybe she shouldn't after all the things I did to her. But she will. I just have to give her some time to understand everything that’s happening and where I stand in all of this.

She freezes just inside the door, her gaze bouncing around the restaurant and the staff bustling around getting things organized. Lifting her head, she sniffs the air, heavy with the smells of some of the things I have them working on. With her jaw hanging open, she whips back and looks at me, her eyebrows raised. “What the hell is going on?”

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