Page 47 of Whisking It All

“I don’t know. Dove? Glove?”

Tessa laughed, her hair swaying around her shoulders as she did. A strand of hair caught on her lipstick. Before he’d even processed the impulse to move, Jamie reached out and swept it away, brushing it behind her ear. Click. He looked up as Kyla snapped a photo, a wide grin spreading across her face.

“Don’t mind me,” she said. “Pretend I’m not even here.”

Tessa took another sip of her wine, arching an eyebrow at him over the top of the glass. Click.

“I think we’ve had enough wine for now,” Jamie said, taking her glass in his hand. Click. He set their glasses down and retrieved the cutting board, doing his best not to notice how rosy Tessa’s cheeks had gotten over the last half hour.

“What are we cooking?” Tessa asked as she scanned the ingredients arranged before them.

“It’s mostly cooked already. We’re just assembling,” he said, moving glass dishes of diced, roasted butternut squash and a fine chiffonade of parsley off the board and onto the workstation. Tessa reached over him and swiped a cherry tomato, popping it into her mouth. Click.

They worked together to assemble crostini from the various ingredients, Tessa pausing occasionally to sneak another sip of her wine, accompanied by the soundtrack of Brozone’s greatest hits and the clicking of Kyla’s camera.

“You can’t put the apple on that one,” Jamie said as Tessa moved to sprinkle tiny cubes of apple over the crostini he’d assembled with scallops and herb oil.

“I can’t?” she asked.

“The apple is for the squash and ricotta one.”

“Why can’t it be for both?” She stared him down as she dropped the bits of apple over the scallop crostini.

“There’s not enough for both.”

“Then we’ll put the walnuts with the squash and ricotta,” she said, reaching for that bowl.

He stayed her hand. Click. “The walnuts are for the red pepper.”

“Come on, take a risk.” She met his eyes, a challenge gleaming in those raven-dark depths. “Chef.” The word was soft but it reverberated through his body like a siren’s song, vibrating in his bones.

He released her hand, triumph flaring in her gaze as she dug her fingers into the walnuts, sprinkling them over the crostini.

Tessa reached for the squeeze bottle of balsamic glaze, leaning over the workstation so that her chest brushed against Jamie’s forearm, the contact like a burn radiating across his skin. “Sorry,” she said with a smile.

“No, you’re not,” he rumbled, recognizing the edge creeping into his voice. It was a tone not meant for his kitchen, under bright lights. It was a tone best suited for darkness.

She threw her head back and laughed, his eyes drawn to the movement of her throat. “You’re right. I’m not.” Click.

He wasn’t sure if he was drunk on the wine or the proximity to Tessa or both—he suspected it was both—but inebriation was his only explanation for what he did next. He stepped behind her, bracing his hands on the workstation on either side of her hips, caging her in with his body. He swept the hair from one of her shoulders, exposing the long line of her neck to him. A shiver moved through her at the brush of his fingertips and he was instantly hard, barely able to keep himself from pressing his lips to the place where her pulse pounded beneath her skin.

“You’re chaos,” he murmured.

“You like my chaos.”

He hummed in agreement, watching as she lifted her latest crostini creation and held it up to him. He had been the one to top the crisp slice of bread with perfectly roasted asparagus and shaved Parmesan, but she had drizzled it with the balsamic glaze. His eyes were drawn to a tiny, white scar on her hand, exactly like the one Whisky had. Scars were common enough in a kitchen, but something about seeing that particular mark made him want to press his lips to that small imperfection on her skin. Instead, he took a bite of the crostini, the bright vinegar coating his tongue, and a low thrum of approval sounded in his throat.

“I do,” he said.

She turned partially towards him, still in the cage of his arms, and popped the other half of the crostini in her mouth. Something deep and primal flared in his chest as he watched pleasure bloom on her face when she ate the food they had prepared together. Her tongue appeared at the corner of her mouth, skating over that red lip as she sought out every drop of the dark, sticky glaze. For half a moment he pictured those lips wrapped around his cock, the streaks of lipstick they’d leave behind.

“I think we’ve got it!” Kyla said, her voice breaking through the little bubble he and Tessa had created.

Jamie cleared his throat and took a step back, turning to hide the erection pressing against the placket of his pants from Kyla’s view.

“Great,” he grunted. “We done here?”

“Yeah,” Kyla said. “I’ll have these pictures over to Gavin by the end of the week.”

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