“You Americans. Why do you do this to yourselves? You carelessly buy things off the rack and never make sure they fit you.” She pulled down one of Carissa’s suits. “This is a great style, wonderful fabric and nice cut and it would be perfect if you wanted to end up looking like a box.” She picked up a skirt. “And this? My dear, are you afraid of your hips? It gives you no dimension.”
Carissa laughed. “Some would say I have too much dimension.”
“That is your mistake. You never worry about what others think. You only worry about what you think. Now let me show you how clothes should really look.” She took five key pieces from Carissa’s wardrobe and two days later transformed them into exclusive pieces, giving her a designer style and flavor she’d never thought herself capable of carrying off. Just as she had done with her makeup, Carissa had taught herself everything she knew about buying quality clothes and styles, for less of course, and prided herself on having a classy wardrobe. But she had never before taken the time to have her clothes adjusted to fit her shape. She now saw how important having a personal tailor was.
“Don’t worry,” Sara told her after seeing her new clothes on her. “The Society has made arrangements to have your entire wardrobe altered, at no cost to you.”
That Monday, she’d strutted into the office feeling more powerful and professional than she ever had before. And it had been great to have others notice, but by the weekend, she felt her confidence fading.
Today was the day of reckoning—Saturday. She’d hoped for rain, but rays of the early morning sun slipped through her windows, bathing her room in light.
Carissa stood in her kitchen and looked over her menu for the fifth time that morning. She couldn’t believe what the Society had selected for her to cook and again wondered why Riverton had offered to pay so much for it. She’d spent last night shopping and gathering all the ingredients and going over the recipes to make sure she remembered everything, although she knew most of them by heart.
“I don’t know what’s got you so worked up Miss Carissa,” Malcolm said closing a lid on several cups of chopped carrots. “You never fail.”
He had helped her chop, slice and crush all morning. She hadn’t told him about the bachelorette auction, just that she wanted to do something special for a friend. She’d needed his help, since Sara was determined that Carissa had to focus on her clothes, make-up and hair.
“He didn’t just buy a few good meals,” she reminded her as she did Carissa’s make up. “He bought a personal service.”
She’d helped Carissa select a yellow dress, that pulled in at the waist, with a full, swing skirt, trimmed with white eyelets and finished off the look with a pair of 24 carat gold hoop earrings. Once Sara left, Carissa spent what little time she had left, making sure she had all of the items she needed to cook for a man she’d hoped only to see during the week. And even then, on a limited basis.
She glanced over at Malcolm as he checked to make sure all the lids were closed tight. He was a good little friend. Too bad her relationships with kids were always better than with men. She wondered what kind of man he would grow up to be. She hoped a good one. Not that his mother noticed, but so far she’d done a great job. He’d even given her ideas for her menu, suggesting some alterations she hadn’t thought of. She knew what she’d make for lunch and for dinner tonight, the hot and spicy buffalo chicken salad with a cheese stuffed mushroom appetizer for lunch and a rolled rib roast, with a steamed medley of yams and red potatoes and asparagus for dinner. On Sunday she’d prepare a white bean chili, with homemade cornbread for lunch, and poached salmon with a mustard dill sauce and Spanish rice and barley for dinner. As for dessert, she threw in several items, hoping she would be able to come up with something quick and simple.
As she drove over to his place, she decided she’d start the dinner that evening, with a fennel salad and champagne vinaigrette. Since she knew she couldn’t back out she wanted Riverton to get his money’s worth. She would not focus on the kiss. Although she hadn’t been able to forget it, she would just focus on the food and getting out of his place as fast as possible.
He’d invited trouble into his kitchen. He’d been able to survive yesterday, being as distant and professional as he could as she prepared two delectable meals. All Saturday, he’d kept the conversation light and casual—although that had become a struggle later in the day after he’d tasted a peach tart so succulent he couldn’t look at her for fear he’d pounce on her. But it was a new day—his last day—and he could feel his resistance waning.
Kenric watched Carissa set up to prepare dinner with more interest than he should. Today she was wearing a soft flowing light blue short-sleeve blouse over a pair of dark tan trousers. His brother was right, he didn’t just want to taste her cooking. First he’d start by taking off her apron. The kitchen was hot, he saw the sheen of sweat on her skin and watched one small liquid river slide down her neck and disappear into the sweet, dark crevice between her breasts. He nearly lost all control when she dropped a dishtowel and bent over to pick it up giving him a beautiful view of her behind. She was excellently proportioned, but not his usual type. He usually liked them fit and trim since he’d been a runner in college, but now he didn’t care about that. He didn’t need her to run. She was perfect right where she was.
“Sorry, this is taking a little longer than I thought,” Carissa said.
“That’s okay.”
Take all the time you want
, he wanted to say. He silently swore, now he was starting to sound like a pervert. He was her boss for goodness sakes he couldn’t have thoughts like that about her. He needed to get a grip, stop thinking about the sweet smells filling the air and the woman in his kitchen causing more than the hair on his arms to rise up. He stood. He needed to get some air. Go for a quick walk around the block.
He headed for the door. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Carissa jumped in front of him so fast that he crashed into her. And he felt the soft give of her breasts against his chest. He grabbed her as she stumbled back then released her just as quickly.
“Where are you going?” she asked almost in a panic.
“Just out for a walk.”
“Dinner will be ready in a minute.”
“I know, but—”
“Please just sit,” she said pointing to the table. “I know it’s taking longer than you wanted, but it’s almost done.”
Kenric reluctantly returned to the table not wanting to upset her.
“I don’t want you to report me.”
“Why would I report you?”
“I know you want to get your money’s worth,” she said heading back into the kitchen.
“I’ve already gotten it and more,” he mumbled.
“What?” She peeked her head out of the kitchen. “You want something more?”
Oh yes.
“No, nothing.”
She returned to the stove. Kenric briefly covered his face and groaned. This had been a mistake. He’d never be able to look at her again in the office without remembering the sight of her licking hot, spicy sauce from her lips, delicately adding fresh basil to a dish as if it were a work of art.
“Here you go.”
He lifted his head and watched her place the poached salmon and rice in front of him. “Looks delicious.” He took a bite. “And tastes even better.”
“Good.” She reached back for her apron string. “Well, this is embarrassing. I seem to have made a knot.”
Kenric jumped up with a little too much eagerness. “Let me help.” He slowly untied the knot, for a moment allowing himself to imagine, unzipping her blouse, unlatching her bra, pulling down her…
He took a deep breath and returned to his seat, while she sat across from him.
“Are you okay?” Carissa looked at him concerned.
“What?”
“You just groaned.”
“I did?”
“Yes.”
He cleared his throat. “Old knee injury,” he said patting it. “But this meal will cure it. Ever thought of catering?”
Carissa paused. “What?”
“You could make a lot of money. I hired a caterer once who wasn’t half as good as you and he’s very successful.”
“I like what I’m doing.”
“Really?”
“Don’t you?”
He shrugged. “It’s just work, I don’t really think about enjoying it.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged again. “I guess because there’s really no point.” He set his fork down and sat back. “I’d like to do this again.”
“Can’t you afford a chef?”
He furrowed his brows. “A chef?”
“Also there are several fine restaurants around if you’ve gotten tired of the food places near your apartment.”
Somehow he’d lost control of the conversation. “I’m sorry?”
“You want me to continue to cook for you, right? That’s the one thing James said he misses most in jail. A home cooked meal.”
Kenric stiffened. That wasn’t what he was referring to, but he didn’t try to clarify. “Who’s James?”
“My ex. At least one of them,” she said with a slight chuckle.
“Your ex is in jail?”
“One of my exes. I married twice.”
“What’s he in jail for?”
“Dealing drugs. I didn’t know it at the time. I never touched the stuff and—”
Kenric returned his attention to his plate. “That’s okay you don’t have to defend yourself to me.”
“From that look on your face, you hate dealers don’t you?”
His head shot up, surprised by her words and knowing tone. A piece of salmon dropped from his fork onto the plate, spraying his shirt with sauce. He looked down and swore. First she made him jumpy, now he was a klutz. He pushed himself from the table. “I’ll go change.”
“It’s just a little stain, I can—”
He stood. He didn’t want her anywhere near him. “I’ll be right back,” he said then disappeared into his bedroom.
***
At least she discovered one thing, Riverton didn’t like drug dealers. She hadn’t been able to figure out much about him over the past two days. He kept the conversation flowing, but revealed little about himself, except today. The look of revulsion on his face spoke volumes. She might as well have said she’d been married to a murderer. Maybe that was why he was at the charity event. He probably wanted to support their victims. She wondered why it was such a tender spot for him. Over the past two days she’d started to wonder a lot. She no longer saw him as a henchman. He was easy to talk to and loved her cooking.
No, ‘loved’ seemed to be too tame a word. Adored sounded better. No one—not even her two exes—had ever approached her food with such reverence. Riverton didn’t lick his fingers or his lips, he was too refined for that, but he approached her food like a saint at the footsteps of a grand cathedral. For a brief moment she’d wanted to be his spoon as he seemed to caress the bowl of white bean chili
she’d made for lunch until it was completely gone.
Although she was certain he was used to fancier fair, he ate her meals as if he were dining at a five star restaurant. He complimented her, using some adjectives she’d never even heard before. But even though she didn’t know their exact meaning the look on his face said it all, and the flush of pleasure that followed his words and the light in his brown gaze, let her know she was treading on dangerous ground. However, that didn’t stop her from being disappointed that tonight would be their last meal together. She wondered what other dishes he might like and thought of her signature Red BBQ coleslaw and potato salad.
She heard the doorbell.
“Someone’s at the door!” she called out to him. “Do you want me to answer it?” When she didn’t hear a reply, Carissa went to the door and opened it.
A tall, striking looking man stood there. He tossed her his coat. “Is Kenric around?”
“He’s getting changed,” she said as the man waltzed past her.
He flopped down on a chair. “Hmm, something smells divine and I’m starving. Did you make extra?”
“Well…”
“Something cool to start things off would be nice as well,” he said kicking off his shoes and resting his feet on the coffee table.
She didn’t know who he was, but he certainly was messy. Carissa moved his shoes out of the way and hung up his coat then poured him some lemonade. She didn’t know whether to feed him though. She went to Riverton’s room and knocked, wondering what was taking him so long.
“I’ll be right out,” he said.
“There’s someone here to see you.”
The door swung open. He looked at her surprised. “To see me?”
She was just as surprised at the sight of him with his shirt open, revealing a muscular chest. A man who ate like him had no right to such a beautiful body. She pulled her gaze away from him and glanced behind him. A selection of shirts lay scattered on the bed. “Yes, he wants me to—”
“Hey lady, I’m starving!” the other man said.
“Get him dinner,” Carissa finished.
She saw Kenric’s face change to an expression she’d never seen before. “I’ll deal with him,” he said in an ominous whisper, storming past her.