Undercover Lovers (4 page)

August leaned closer, ever
mindful of their appearance and the potential approach of any
pedestrians. Just because luck served them now didn’t mean it would
last.

He tried to tell his feet to
move, to tell his hands to take Saffron’s and lead her to his car.
He lived eighteen minutes away in rush hour; at this time of night,
less than ten. In less time than that, he could be balls deep
inside her.

Saffron draped her arms over
his shoulders, holding him in such a casually intimate pose, he
could have believed they’d been doing this together for years,
instead of just minutes.

“
I won’t tup you here,” he
murmured, more of a reassurance for himself than for her. He had to
say the words aloud. Had to get his body to understand to dial it
down a notch. Just a hair.

“
You wouldn’t respect me in
the morning if I let you,” Saffron reassured him gently.

Not exactly a no.

She tilted her mouth to his
again, letting him take possession for a few minutes more. And
every stroke of his tongue against hers, every time he breathed in
her sweet air to delve in for another soul-clenching kiss, it was
possession he took. August lifted her leg, his hand caressing over
hose, rising higher, pushing the damned dress out of his way,
higher still. He stood between her legs, heat from her body coaxing
him closer. His hand cupping the soft curve of her ass.

Not here
, he warned himself again. While his rational mind had one
idea, his hands and cock were already two steps ahead.

Was it possible to love the
way a man kissed more than Saffron did right now?

She didn’t think
so.

August consumed her
voraciously, as if an appetite had been whetted and could not be
satisfied no matter how passionate their kisses, how deep her
moans. How wanton her whimpers.

Nothing around them
mattered. She vaguely recalled there’d been some reason she’d met
him in the first place.

Oh wait. Right!

“
August…” His mouth
continued to nip. To explore. “August, please.”

She cherished the way he
held her now, fingertips digging into the flesh of her thigh, his
prominent erection pushed hard against her abdomen. Instinct urged
her to tilt her hips a little, aligning their bodies so the
delicious contact that resulted would put his cock against the
juncture leading to her sex.

He pulled back and placed
his forehead against hers. She breathed him in, watching the
gorgeous man struggle to regulate his own breathing. “Of course,”
he said, his hand kept smoothing over her upper thigh. “Not
here.”

It was more than the
location, but the hard fact she needed to come clean with him that
bothered Saffron. If they were going to take things further—and
hell, yes, she planned on going all the way—he needed to hear the
truth. The subtle way she’d avoided answering him about her exact
job might have served her earlier, but to continue on, not telling
him the rest of it made her stomach a little
queasy. 

“
Not just that—”

The sound of a train
rumbling past broke through her speech.

August’s eyes went wide. “My
God, was that your stomach?”

Horrified—
mortified
—Saffron
blushed furiously. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast,” she
mumbled.

“
Come on, Saffron. What kind
of an animal must you think I am to starve you like
this.”

“
Wait…”

“
Let me take you to my
house,
liebling
,
where I will feed you from my own hands and then make love to you
until the sun rises.”

Well hell.

“
Sound like a plan?” he
asked.

 “
Yes,
please.”

Those weren’t the words
supposed to be spilling from her mouth. She should have been
telling him that she had a deadline. That before the night was
over, she needed to sample his restaurant’s food because she’d be
facing the unemployment line if she had to wait another four months
to get a reservation. By then, Restaurant Week would have come and
gone anyway. The one little edge she had on her competition poofed
and begone.

But if she told and he
didn’t get pissed off enough to send her away, the other edge she
had on him would similarly vanish. A chef on show simply wouldn’t
be the same as a chef in his natural environment, prone to the same
mistakes and foibles of any cook.

As she considered her
situation, she realized an especially delicious twist on being with
August now. He’d treat her to a private showing of his skills. With
just the right nudge, perhaps she could get him to pull out all the
stops. To present something that would make every newspaper around
the country clamoring to syndicate her column…

And what a totally assholey
thing to do.

“
Second
thoughts?”

August’s voice penetrated
her concentration. Saffron finally realized they’d stopped walking
and stood before a black sports car. He gripped the open door she
stood before, but had obviously not advanced toward yet. “No, I’m
sorry. I mean, I haven’t changed my mind.”

Holding on to the skirt of
her dress, she lowered herself into the car. No, she hadn’t changed
her mind, but she needed to figure out a game plan before getting
to his house.

Plans evaporated as she
snuggled into the plush interior. It was clean and masculine, with
a hominess to it that should have seemed out of place. Sniffing the
air, she realized why.

She waited for him to buckle
up before pouncing. “Am I smelling McDonald’s french fries? I am,
aren’t I? I know that smell.”

After turning the key in the
ignition, he glanced at her, embarrassment lighting his face even
in the dim car. “They’re good.”

Saffron snorted in surprise.
And then the giggles kicked in. “McDonald’s? Really?”

“
They’re good.”

The car pulled away from the
parking lot and the back of her mind whispered some little warning,
but Saffron ignored it. “You said that already. But shouldn’t you
be eating
pommes frites
made in white truffle oil or something?”

He chuckled. “Listen, just
because I serve high-end food doesn’t mean it always hits the right
spot. And don’t forget, after being on my feet for fourteen hours,
the last thing I want to do is go home and cook something for
myself. McDonald’s is only a few blocks from the house. Sometimes,
there’s just nothing better than scarfing down some hot, salty,
greasy fries. Say what you want about the place, but they know how
to make those things.”

“
You’ve got a good point,
but it’s just funny to me. You don’t let the media near you, so I
guess what I know about you comes from a lot of preconceived
notions.”

“
Is that your way of getting
me to open up about myself?” He grinned, but kept his eyes on the
road.

The journalist in her perked
up. “Why not? What would you say if you had a camera stuck in your
face right now?”

Grunting, he said, “To get
out of my fucking way.”

Saffron slapped his thigh.
“Not an option. Tell me what you want your fans—and you have a ton
of them, I can tell you—and people in general to know.”

Silence passed while he
mused. The pause gave her a minute to study the sharp angles of his
face and the gentle slopes of his lips. The contrast was meant for
running her fingers over, to trace the contours in precision study.
“That I’m a stereotype who just got lucky. I’m temperamental and
prone to bursts of creativity. I’m your typical type A and want
things done my way. I’m just someone who likes to cook.”

The last sentence was almost
mumbled and Saffron’s eyebrows narrowed. “Are you being humble or
do you really mean that?”

He reached for the key and
turned it. She glanced in surprise at their surroundings, noting
they’d come to a stop in front of a lovely ranch-style
house.

 “
I’m just a cook who
got lucky. It’s true.”

She reached for him, laying
her hand on the same thigh she’d just accosted. “I hope you don’t
really believe that. You are an amazing chef. How many Michelin
stars do you have?”

“
Two.” A whispered
admission.

“
Two. Do you know how many
chefs around the world would kill to get even one? The reviews
about you are always glowing; the wait to get into your restaurant
is insane. Heck, I came to your place tonight in hope…”

Tell him now, her conscience
encouraged. Tell him before things went too far and it’s an apology
instead of an admission.

“
Yes,
liebling
?” He leaned closer to tuck a
strand of hair behind her ear. “Why did you come to my restaurant
tonight?”

The confession teetered on
the tip of her tongue.
I came to get ahead
of my competition by tasting your food. I hoped like hell I’d get a
sneak peak at your menu for Restaurant Week. I dreamed you’d let me
get close enough to get an exclusive no one else has ever
managed.

“
I wanted…I hoped…to meet
you.”

Her eyes slipped closed when
his mouth brushed hers. With the delicate touch of his lips, her
apprehension evaporated into the small space. So did the
confession.

By the time he pulled away
to exit the car, her insides trembled. Now wasn’t the time to tell
him the reason she wanted to meet him. They’d eat and she’d tell.
Or maybe she’d tell him while he cooked. Or maybe, once they got
out of the car, she’d gather the courage. One way or the other,
she’d tell him before things got too far.

If they hadn’t
already.

August opened her door, took
her hand and helped Saffron out of the car. Between the heels she
rarely had the opportunity to wear, the dress she’d slipped on
despite feeling uncomfortable with how it clung to her jiggly bits,
and the serene surroundings, the evening seemed the stuff made of
dreams.

Somehow they went from the
car to the kitchen as if magicked there. She supposed she’d been
too caught up in the warmth of his hand, the comfort of his
presence and the knowledge of why she was even here at
all.

“
So,” August said, once they
stood in the middle of his kitchen, “this is my home.”

The kitchen gleamed, as in
sparkled like something from a cartoon. Unlike her own disorganized
cooking space, there wasn’t a single cluttered surface. The
stainless steel appliances shone as if polished on a daily basis
and the sundry kitchen items present in most households were
mysteriously delinquent from view.

Saffron scanned the
countertops, looking for crumbs,
hell
, even a fingerprint on the
pristine surfaces. No such luck. No matter where she looked or ran
her fingertips, all evidence pointed to the fact August couldn’t
possibly be human.

“
Your place is immaculate,”
she said with a note of admiration.

He continued to stack
miscellaneous items in his arms, not answering until he’d returned
from a trip to the refrigerator. As he laid out milk, eggs and
raspberries, he said, “It only takes one report from the health
department and I’m shut down. If I don’t live it, I can’t expect my
staff to work it.”

“
Admirable.”

About to get out of his way,
Saffron went still when August approached her. He gripped the
counter behind her with both hands, trapping her between him and
the island. Time slowed when he lowered his head, his lips sweeping
over hers with such promise, she almost decided the food could
wait. “God, I could just eat you up,” he muttered. “I don’t get it.
I’m not normally like this, but you are…so…
beautiful
.”

After that admission, he’d
have to pry her out of there with a crowbar.

“
Thank you.” Her cheeks
heated up for the hundredth time tonight, but looking back at him,
there wasn’t a doubt in her mind he meant what he said. The passion
in his eyes was too raw to be faked.

“
A light snack until dinner
arrives, yes?”

She nodded hesitantly. “I
already had scallops and now something else before the other
courses? You keep plying me with food and eventually, you’ll have
to bury me in a piano box.”

Blue eyes darkened. “I love
your curves. It would be my pleasure to make certain you stay
curvy, just the way you are now.”

Letting that thought sink
in, he moved away with lightning fast efficiency and she almost
called him back. The press of his body against hers sent a very
good kind of tremor shuttling through her muscles. Still stunned by
his amazing attention though, Saffron climbed onto a nearby stool
to watch him work.

“
Help yourself to some
Riesling that’s in the fridge. Glasses are in the cabinet next to
it,” he said, a few minutes later while whisking eggs, flour and
other things she couldn’t keep up with. “It’ll go well with
these.”