Page 103 of Feel the Heat

“Atta girl.”

“And I sold a picture.”

His eyes went wide as charger plates. “Which one?”

“Sadie Number Three,” and when his brow furrowed, she translated, “Rock Chick Red. For twelve hundred dollars.” Her hand flew to her mouth, still not quite believing that had happened.

“One of my favorites. Sounds like some perv got a bargain.”

She socked him in the chest. His rock-hard, wonderfully touchable … Focus, girl. She placed her hands flat on that same chest, like she meant business. “I’m still worried about something.”

“What’s that, sweetheart?” He lay molten kisses along her jaw, getting a head start on smoothing away the worry.

“That hot head of yours. I don’t want you going off when someone says something. You can’t. Not with all you could lose.”

“Well, that’s no longer a concern. You’re looking at the guy who will not be the next biggest thing in daytime TV.”

She knew her features must have shuttered to blank because her brain had ground to a halt and he was looking at her strangely.

“I’m not signing with the network,” he explained. “And I’m not renewing with the Cooking Channel, either.”

This time, when she thumped his chest, sexy muscles were the last things on her mind. Lightning fast, he covered her body with his and caged her with his palms to the refrigerator door. Lord, she had the reflexes of a two-toed sloth.

“Before you call me an idiot, hear me out.”

“Okay,” she muttered mutinously, like she had a choice with all his hard parts clicking like Lego into her soft parts.

“I want my life back. I want to wake up on lazy Sunday mornings, screw you breathless, then think about which of the farmers’ market ingredients will make the best special at the restaurant that night. I want to cook for people instead of viewer demographics. I want to be the best brother to Jules and the best uncle to her kidlet. I want my own kids to value family and food, and know they are loved to an embarrassing degree. And I want them to stay virgins as long as possible, and frankly, that can only happen if we’re sitting down at the dinner table and talking like real families do.” He put a finger to her lips because she must have opened her mouth to interrupt. “I know you’re concerned about keeping all this culinary genius and sex appeal under wraps, but I can still spread the Kilroy gospel with books and web videos. Or something.” He punctuated his speech with a brazen grin.

“World domination ten minutes at a time?” she asked when really she wanted to say, “Kids, Jack? You’re already talking about kids!” Unavoidable images of emerald-eyed, dark-headed tykes tugged at her ovaries, though she suspected a lot of teenage angst might be avoided if the girls inherited Jack’s lustrous locks instead of her obdurate mop.

“I’ll still have businesses,” he said. “I’ll have to travel, but not as much. My life will be with you, wherever you want that to be. Here. New York. Anywhere.”

“You’d move here?”

Cue another heart-fracturing smile. “As long as I have a sharp knife, a place to chop, and my woman, I can live anywhere. Turns out Laurent has been filing away the significant coin I pay him in some nefarious plan to usurp my throne, so I’m selling him a half-share of New York and making him executive chef. I could work there but I’m not very good at taking orders.” He brushed away the hair that had fallen over her eyes. “I know you have your heart set on Parsons…”

“The School of the Art Institute is also on my list.”

His eyes sparkled. “Interesting. You might not have heard, but I’m planning to open a restaurant in Chi-town. And my sister seems to like it here.”

Or rather she liked a particular person here. Rather than let Jack’s boxer briefs get in a twist about the threat her man-slut cousin presented to Jules, she focused on the positives. “She’ll never want for a babysitter.”

“A ready-made army of child minders.” His face lifted in a grin. “That kid’s going to be so lucky.”

A wave of unease rolled over her. “What about Cara? Does she know about the show?”

His brow crinkled. “Not yet. In a couple of days, there’ll be a carefully-worded announcement from the network about creative differences, but I still have to talk to her. Don’t worry, she’s the best at what she does and she won’t have a problem finding some other poor sap to order about. Come the zombie apocalypse, I want to be on Team Cara.”

“Jack, are you sure?” She had to ask, though she could tell he was decided. He might be impulsive when provoked to kiss or defend women in bars, but he wasn’t one to take a business decision, or a family one lightly. And knowing that Jules figured largely in his thinking made her heart expand in love even more.

“I am. So sure. Now, do you think you could be with a once-famous, now-ordinary guy, who in a couple of years might be featured on one of those ‘Where are they now?’ TV shows?”

She perched up on her toes with a little help from his hands that had now slipped to cup her toast-of-the-town behind. At last. Her lips baited his, and her tongue swiped the seam, teasing and tasting.

“You know I was never interested in your fame.”

“Right, just my body.”

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