Devour Me (Master Chefs Series #1) (5 page)

But
as she looked at him now, she saw the little boy who’d found a passion thanks
to the loving hand of a sweet old woman he called Nana.  Maybe he wasn’t so bad
after all.  Maybe he was just one of those horribly misunderstood celebrities.

She
looked into his brilliant blue eyes, eyes made all the more intense by the dark
waves of hair that framed his face.  As much as she enjoyed the thought of
ending up in his bed, she was pleased with this side of him.  Maybe it was for
the best.

 

Chapter 3

 

 

T
he week continued with the same leisurely and
casual pace as that quiet and intimate lunch.  Taryn and Errol discovered each
others’ little quirks, their strange idiosyncrasies and one or two neurosis.

Errol
had an almost military discipline when it came to keeping his kitchen clean. 
No sooner was a dish no longer needed that it was cleaned, dried and put away. 
Taryn tended to leave things lying around until her space was a tad crowded
then she would rush to clean everything at once, something Errol told her to
correct.

“I
know,” she had said.  “Clean as you go.  My mom has told me often enough.”

Errol
counted out every chop as he cut any vegetable, while Taryn always chimed
one
potato, two potato
.

As
they worked on a variation of a gazpacho, Taryn leaned against the counter and
looked at Errol.  “What’s your take on molecular cooking?”

“A
silly, modern trend.”

“Did
you ever try it?”

“No,
but I’ve tasted the results of a few who have.  Either they didn’t have the
technique down or the desired result was not what I want when I sit down to a
meal.”

“So,
I guess then that we won’t be touching on that in class.”

“Not
in my class.”  He threw three zucchinis into a food processor and pressed the
button until they were pureed.

“Tomorrow,
right?”

“Yep. 
You ready?”

“I’ve
been ready for the past week.  I’ve been ready from the very moment I learned
I’d been accepted here.”

“You
know, the Institute must have seen real talent in you.  Few applicants are
accepted.”

“I
know,” she gushed.

The
next day, Taryn sat front and center in the class of eighteen.

“Today,”
Errol said after everyone had introduced themselves to the class, “we’re going
to start with a basic run through of different cuts of beef; which cuts to use
in soups, which to grill, and which to roast.”

With
the help of a PowerPoint presentation, he showed the class the various cuts and
gave examples of the best ways to prepare each.

“When
preparing a sauce to accompany this cut, what base can you start with?” Errol
asked.

“A
roux,” Taryn said as she shot her hand into the air.

“Interesting,
Taryn….  And how would you prepare your roux?”

“I
heat up a saucepan and melt a few tablespoons of butter then add the same
amount of flour.  Then it’s just a matter of adding a sufficient amount of
liquid, like a really strong tea.”

He
nodded his acceptance of her answer.  “How many of you have attempted to string
up a top blade chuck roast?”

A
few students tentatively raised their hands, including Taryn.

“How
many of you have prepared a rack of lamb?”

Again
a few tentative hands rose.

“Okay,
so I’m going to have you guys pair up.  We’re going to put a few quick skills
to the test.”

Taryn
turned to the fair haired young man beside her.  His eyes lit up when he
noticed she was looking his way.

“Henri,
right?” she said as she remembered his introduction.

“Oui,”
he said.  “Yes.  We work together, no?  Umm… Taryn.”

She
instantly fell in love with his French accent and his charming manner. Though
she estimated he was a year or two younger than her, he seemed strong and
capable.  “That’d be great, and you can call me Taryn.”

“Very
good, Taryn.  You have
la passion
for
cuisine
like me,” Henri
said as the remainder of the students tried to find suitable companions.

“I
can’t imagine myself doing anything else.”

“Just
like me.  I come from a small town.  A bit far from
Paris
.
  I
think my father would have preferred I stay on the farm and tend to his herd of
cows.  Thankfully my mother had bigger plans for me.”

“I
hope your father wasn’t too upset.”

“He
wanted me to stay, but I think, deep down, he’s happy for me.”

The
class finally settled down and Errol shouted out a series of demands, all to be
precisely executed within the shortest amount of time.  Several students seemed
completely befuddled by the string of requests, while others cursed at their
inability to execute properly.

“A
mirepoix
,” Errol called out.

Taryn
grabbed a handful of carrots and celery while Henri reached for the onion. 
They chopped madly for sixty seconds then tossed everything into a hot
saucepan.

Grinning,
they silently congratulated one another.  They finished every task first while
one other pair was often a close second.  On more than one occasion, Taryn
caught their glare of open disdain.

“I
don’t think they like us,” Henri noted as Errol barked out another order.

Taryn
began trimming the cut of beef they’d been assigned.  “I didn’t come here to be
liked,” she said with a shrug.

“I
think I’m going to like working with you,” Henri said with a playful grin.

“Good,”
she said.  “I like working with you, too.”

“Tomorrow
we’ll take a look at haute cuisine terminology.” Errols words sounded unusually
harsh.  “I thought we could by-pass that, but seeing the looks on your faces
when I mentioned a few terms today, I’ve reconsidered.”

 

Chapter 4

 

 

E
rrol watched Taryn and Henri with keen
interest.  While he tried to make it look like it was their work he
scrutinized, he became aware of staring at Taryn on more than one occasion and
quickly averted his gaze.

Her
skilled hands impressed him, working with surprising dexterity and speedy
precision, but it was the warm and engaging smile she offered Henri that continually
caught his attention, stirring something hot and possessive in him.

As
soon as they’d paired up, Errol had mentally gone through the young man’s
résumé.  From the region of Pays de la Loire, Henri Boisjoli was the son of a
dairy farmer… hardly competition for a top chef.

Forcing
himself to scan the room, he nonetheless brought a fleeting glance back to Taryn
before continuing his scan.  Every pair of students cleaned up their stations
and prepared to leave.  When he heard Taryn laugh, he turned to her and was
surprised to see Henri, the innocent young man from the country, brushing a
wisp of long blond hair off Taryn’s face.

Affection
already gleamed in the young man’s eyes.

As
the students waved goodbye and filed out of the class, Errol couldn’t help but
wonder how much time Taryn would spend with the boy.  Was she going to her next
class with him?  Would they have lunch?  Dinner?

He
shoved the speculation and questions aside until he arrived home later that
night.  As he pushed the key into the lock he wondered if she’d be there. 
Perhaps Henri had invited her out for a drink, or a bite to eat.

Did
he care?  Really?  She was just a… He inhaled deeply and reminded himself who
he was.  He could have any woman. Yes… but he wanted this one. He desired this
one.

On
opening the door he was flooded with an unusual wave of relief as he heard Taryn
humming in the kitchen.

“Don’t
look,” she called out with childish glee.  “I’m trying something new.”

“Well,
it certainly smells good.”

“I
hope you didn’t eat yet.”

“Of
course not.  It’s only six-thirty.”

“I
went to the wine store you brought me to,” she said as she emerged from the
kitchen and met him in the living area.  She offered him a glass of red wine. 
“I thought you might like this one;
Chateau du Pape.
.”

He
took a sip, rolled it around in his mouth a moment then swallowed.  “A very
good choice.  And what will you be serving with it?”  He looked her over,
taking in her casual and relaxed attire that suited her to perfection.

At
the institute, students were asked to wear a white chef’s jacket to every
class; an overcoat that hid any attribution a young woman might have. It
pleasured him to now see Taryn in snug yoga pants and a teal tank top that
hugged her breasts in a full, well-rounded manner.  Her long blond hair was
pulled off her face in a neat ponytail.  Without a trace of make-up, her face
was the picture of clean, fresh beauty. She was breathtaking, a natural beauty,
who didn’t seem to know how gorgeous she was.

“I
had an idea for a hot and spicy take on a rack of lamb,” she called over her
shoulder as she returned to the kitchen.

“Are
my classes already inspiring you?”  He absent-mindedly rolled the wine around in
the glass while his eyes remained steadfastly on her exiting buttocks…perfectly
round, soft, and tight. He felt his jeans tightening in front as he imagined
running his hands over them, grabbing them and holding them while he rammed
hard into her.

“Actually
it’s Henri who gave me the idea… you know, the guy I paired up with.”

Errol
frowned and set the glass of wine on the table. With an unhappy pout pursing
his lips, he cracked his knuckles.

“You
know, he first gives the impression of being some country bumpkin who doesn’t
know squat about
haute cuisine
, or any
cuisine
for that matter,
but, when you take a minute to talk to him, he really knows what he’s talking
about.”

“That’s
nice,” Errol muttered.

“Dinner
should be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll
hop into the shower then.”

“Perfect.”

Under
the hot running water, Errol tried to scrub off the uneasy sense of insecurity
that engulfed him.

He
closed his eyes and imagined her, nude, her firm breasts glowing under thick,
creamy lather.  Droplets trickled down to her navel and onward between her
thighs. A thin line of fine blond hair indicated the heated passage he longed
to lose himself in.

There
was something fiery about her; something hidden behind the innocent, wide
eyes.  He’d seen it in her frown when he’d released her that first night; the
wanting; the desire.  Her delicious lips had remained parted in hunger long
after he’d left her side.

As
he lathered his torso, his hand brushed against the hard-on that cried out for
release.  Tempted to take a firm grip, to envision Taryn’s body against his as
he pumped out his need to touch her again, he reached for the faucet and cooled
the water.

When
his body had thoroughly chilled, he shut the water and patted himself dry.  As
he returned to his room to dress, he debated whether to dress like the
professional he was or to entice Taryn with something more alluring; snug but
casual sweatpants that hung low on his hips.

Enticement
won.

He
looked at his nude torso and imagined her lips on his skin, her tongue licking
every ridge of his stomach and while heading down to take him into her mouth.
His penis hardened thinking how she would first suck shyly and then hard,
vigorously, running her teeth over his sensitive tip. “God, I want you bad,” he
groaned as he pulled a tight white t-shirt over his head. “I’ve waited long
enough.”

“Perfect
timing,” Taryn exclaimed as he entered the dining room.

The
table was beautifully set. The silver candelabra his grandmother had given him;
the one he had never used, now sat in the center of the table with three long
tapered candles that glowed with romantic promise. His finest china was laid
out, as was his flatware.

“If
your meal is as good as this table looks, I think I’m going to enjoy having you
in my home even more.” He narrowed his eyes appreciatively at her blushing
cheeks and flushed chest.

“I
was afraid you might not take too well to my cooking my own dishes.”  She sat
down facing him then looked down at herself.  “Oh, I forgot to change.  This is
such an elegant meal, I can’t just…”

“You
look perfect.  I like this laid back look.”

“Well,
in that case.”  She raised her glass.  “
Bon appetit
.”


Bon
appetit
.”

Taryn
looked apprehensively at him as he sliced through the lamb and took his first
might.

“The
verdict?” she said when he remained silent.

He
cocked an impressed brow.  “Interesting.  Is that cumin I taste?”

“It
is.”

“And
a hint of… what is that?”  He took another bite.  “Cinnamon?”

“Could
be,” she said with a pleased and teasing grin.

“It’s
not something I would have ever thought to try, but… it works. 
Congratulations.”

“I’m
happy you like it.”

Throughout
dinner, they spoke of the upcoming classes and the cookbook that she’d be
working on.  While he managed to speak clearly enough about his culinary
intentions, his mind was far from the kitchen.  Repeatedly, his gaze dipped
into the valley of her breasts and he was mesmerized by the thought of seeing
her completely nude, feeling her soft heated skin against his, her wet folds
touching his hardness like a kiss. She’d be as sweet as she looked, but with a
touch of spice that seemed to heat up every part of his body. The combination
of innocent and sexy was intoxicating to him, especially the hint of defiance
in her eyes. He wasn’t sure if she despised him, but was humoring him to get
ahead. Whatever it was, he wanted to possess her, own her, make her his. His
erection harden just thinking about having her naked in his bed, while his
mouth worked on her most delicious core. Errol’s face darkened with desire as
he stared heatedly at her.
He would be damned if he didn’t fuck her tonight.

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