Authors: Cheris Hodges
Recipe for Desire (7 page)
“Excuse me?”
Devon motioned for her to follow him into the kitchen area. “First Baptist West is going to provide a van and driver. You can come along and observe and make sure we get to the restaurant and return here without losing anyone.”
Marie folded her arms. “So, how long am I going to be here today? I do have work to do, work that I get paid for.”
“Miss Charles, you’re scheduled to be here for five hours today. You’ve been here all of twenty minutes and you’re trying to leave?”
“You don’t know how long I’ve been here, since you’ve just arrived.”
Devon placed his hand on Marie’s shoulder and she felt her skin sizzle. “Can we not make this difficult?”
Before she could reply, a group of women entered the kitchen. “Good morning, Devon,” one of the younger women said as the other ladies sized Marie up.
“Who is this?” another woman asked with a nod toward Marie. Devon looked up at the women and smiled.
“Ladies, I want to introduce you to Marie Charles,” he said. “She’s going to be helping us for a few months. I think it would be nice for us to introduce ourselves.”
“I’m Shay,” said a woman with her hair pulled back in a ponytail.
A younger girl with a skeptical look on her face nodded at Marie. “I’m Bria.”
The other six women introduced themselves as Andrea, Rita, Yolanda, Deidra, Skylar, and Thelma. Marie smiled and waved at the ladies. She had to admit, they were nothing like what she’d expected.
“So,” Skylar asked. “You’re a chef or a business woman like Serena?”
“I’m in ...”
“She’s here to do whatever we need,” Devon interjected. “And since we’re going to the restaurant for the taping of my show, we’d better get busy with our lunch.”
Marie rolled her eyes at him, but held her tongue. Thelma, who was the oldest of the women, tapped Marie on the shoulder. “I hope you have another pair of shoes. It gets pretty messy and wet in here.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Marie replied as she glanced down at her four-inch heels. Thelma shrugged and headed over to her work space. Devon waved for Marie.
Sighing, she crossed over to him. “Yes?”
“I need you to get the seasoning tray, the pots, and ...” He glanced down at her feet. “You’re not going to make it in those shoes.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do? These are the only shoes I have with me.”
It didn’t take long for Marie to find out that four-inch heels on a slippery kitchen floor were a bad idea. She’d slipped when she put the basket of vegetables in the middle of the counter. She’d turned her right ankle when Devon told her to get the knives.
“Are you all right?” he asked her when she limped over to him with the silverware. He wiped his hands on his soiled apron, then scooped Marie up in his arms in one quick motion. “Excuse me, ladies,” he said to his students as he carried Marie out of the kitchen.
“I can walk,” Marie said quietly as she felt her heart beating like a steel drum.
“I just want to make sure,” he said as he sat her on an ottoman in the lobby. “Hold your leg out.”
“You’re a doctor now?” she asked, but did what she was told.
“I’ve nursed many ankles of women wearing ridiculous shoes in my kitchen,” he replied as he gently squeezed her ankle, searching for a knot. “You’re going to have to get sensible shoes while working here. I think you should be fine for the rest of the day, since we’re about to head to the restaurant.”
“So, you keep your women in heels in your kitchen while you cook at home? Because OSHA would shut you down if you did that in the restaurant,” Marie said. “That’s pretty sexist.”
“First of all, when I cook for a woman, she doesn’t enter the kitchen,” he said. “I just happen to work with hardheaded women like yourself. Tomorrow, wear flats.”
“Do I look like I own a pair of flats?” she quipped. As Devon gave her a slow once-over and offered her a sly smile, Marie felt a heated explosion between her thighs that made her look away from his brown eyes.
“Yeah, you don’t wear flats,” he said. “You’re probably five foot nothing and just too afraid to let people see the real you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked with one sculpted eyebrow raised.
“Just what I said. Who comes to do community service in high heels, expensive clothes, and a fresh hairdo? No one needs to be impressed by how you look.”
Marie folded her arms across her chest and glared at him, feelings of desire for this man waning slightly. “A cook, a doctor, and a dime-store psychologist. Is there anything that you don’t do?”
Devon shook his head from side to side. “You know what I don’t do: deal with diva attitudes,” he said. “Since you can walk, why don’t you head across the street and see if the van is ready?” He turned and went to the kitchen, and Marie felt as if she’d been dismissed by her principal. Men didn’t treat her this way. They were oftentimes in awe of her and leapt to do her bidding. Who did Devon Harris think he was?
Chapter 7
When Devon and his crew arrived at Hometown Delights, he smiled at the excitement bubbling through the ladies from My Sister’s Keeper. Even Bria was showing signs of enthusiasm, despite trying to keep her face neutral.
“Hey, Devon,” his sous-chef, Daniella King, said when she greeted him at the door. “Are these the ladies I’m taking care of today?”
“Yes,” he said, then pointed to Marie. “She’s going to be your assistant for the taping.”
Marie rolled her eyes, but didn’t say a word as Daniella crossed over to her and extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Daniella.”
“Marie Charles,” she replied with a limp handshake.
Daniella gave her a questioning look. “All right,” she said. “Well, let’s get busy. Chef is going to have a great show. So many people have been trying to get in here.”
Devon hoped Marie and Daniella would be able to handle the seating arrangements because he needed to focus on his cooking. “All right, guys,” he said. “I’m going to leave you to it.”
He rushed down the hall to change into his chef’s jacket and get cleaned up for the demonstration. As he headed for the kitchen to get his utensils, Serena stopped him.
“Devon, is that Marie Charles in the audience out there?” she asked.
He sighed and nodded. “That’s her. She’s working with me at My Sister’s Keeper.”
“Get the hell out of here,” Serena exclaimed. “And here I thought all she could do was party. Wait a minute, you mean she’s doing her court-ordered community service at the shelter.”
“Yeah, look, we can talk about that later. You got your front-row seat, right?”
She nodded. “And you better not say a word about my cooking on your show, or I am going to throw grits at you.”
“As long as they aren’t hot, bring it on,” he quipped. “You probably can’t even cook grits.”
Serena shrugged, pouted, then sauntered down the hall while Devon laughed at her. The show’s director ran over to him. “Devon, five minutes!” Monique exclaimed. “It’s pretty crowded out there. This is going to be great. Like Emeril’s old shows.”
“Hopefully better,” Devon said. “I don’t have a catchphrase.”
“Good, because I wanted to ‘bam’ him after hearing it a million times; now let’s move,” Monique said as she placed her hand on Devon’s back and led him to the front of the restaurant. As soon as the audience saw him, they erupted in applause.
Monique gave him the signal to start the show, and he smiled at his adoring public. “Thank you for being here today on
Dining with Devon
. I’m your chef, Devon Harris,” he said, full of energy. “Today, we’re going to combine two of my favorite things, fish and shrimp.”
Dining with Devon
. I’m your chef, Devon Harris,” he said, full of energy. “Today, we’re going to combine two of my favorite things, fish and shrimp.”
Marie watched Devon intently, not because she was interested in what he was cooking or his explanation of the different flavors he was mixing up for his marinade. She was just captivated by his passion. If he was this passionate about cooking, what would he be like with a woman? She watched as he rolled a filet of tilapia in bread crumbs, paying attention to his fingers as they stroked the fish. How would her breasts feel as he brushed his thumbs against her taut nipples the way he did the fish? Would he use his tongue along with his fingers to make her cry out in pleasure?
Shay broke into Marie’s wanton thoughts when she pinched her on the arm. “Are you all right over there with all of that moaning?” she whispered. “Hungry much?”
“Well,” Marie said, “I did skip breakfast.”
“Shh,” Bria admonished Marie and Shay. “Some of us are trying to learn something.”
Marie threw her hands up and turned her attention back to Devon’s big hands. Shay leaned into Marie and whispered, “You don’t care about Devon’s cooking, do you? I see how you’re looking at him.”
“What? No,” Marie said quietly. “I’m going to try this recipe.”
“Whatever.”
Bria turned around and glared at Shay, who rolled her eyes in response. Marie crossed her legs and stroked her ankle, remembering how Devon had touched her after she’d twisted her ankle in the kitchen at the shelter.
Stop it,
she thought.
The only reason you’re looking at this man like this is because it’s been so long since you’ve actually had some satisfaction in the bedroom. William didn’t know how to do anything remotely satisfactory.
Stop it,
she thought.
The only reason you’re looking at this man like this is because it’s been so long since you’ve actually had some satisfaction in the bedroom. William didn’t know how to do anything remotely satisfactory.
“All right,” Devon said, his silky voice causing Marie to snap her head up and lock eyes with him. “I need a volunteer because this dish is so easy, even the most novice cook can make it.” He pointed at Serena, and Marie felt a slight twinge of jealousy, despite the fact that she knew Serena and Devon worked together. She also knew Serena was married since she’d followed Emerson Bradford’s trial for the attempted murder of Serena, but she wanted to be up there with him. Close enough to inhale his masculine scent and feel those magic fingers dancing across her hand as she rolled the fish like Serena was doing.
“Now, Serena,” Devon said. “Was that so hard?”
“You know, I don’t like you right now,” she quipped.
Devon laughed. “Serena is a newlywed and one of the owners of the restaurant, so she doesn’t do much of this in the kitchen,” he said as he directed her to drop the fish in the pan. “Your husband will thank me when he comes home to a hot meal.”
“You’re lucky we’re on TV,” she replied as she dropped a second piece of fish in the pan. Marie crossed and uncrossed her legs as Devon squeezed a lemon over the shrimp he had simmering in another pan. As he spoke about the flavor that would come from adding the juice, she watched his lips, taking note of how full they were. When he picked up a piece of shrimp with a fork and took it into his mouth, Marie closed her eyes and imagined what it would feel like to have his lips closed around hers.
The director signaled for a break, and it couldn’t have come fast enough for Marie, who bolted from her seat and went outside to catch her breath. She paced back and forth in the parking lot, ignoring the pain in her ankle as she struggled to bring her hormones under control.
He’s just a man and it’s his job to be charming when he’s on TV,
she thought as she continued to pace.
He’s just a man and it’s his job to be charming when he’s on TV,
she thought as she continued to pace.
“Hey,” Shay said as she walked outside with a cigarette in her hand. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, just needed some air,” Marie said. “You know those things are bad for you.”
Shay lit up anyway and shrugged. “There are a lot of things that are bad for me. Those shoes, as sharp as they are, will kill your knees one day.”
Marie looked down at her feet and nodded. “Touché. May I ask you a question?”
Shay blew a plume of smoke upward. “Sure.”
“I’m not trying to be disrespectful when I say this, but how did you end up in the shelter?”
Shay flicked the ashes from her cigarette and looked at Marie. “Well,” she said, “I married the wrong man. When he decided to leave me, it seemed as if everything started going downhill from there. When we were married, he was the primary provider, I worked for First Union. Then they merged with Wachovia and my job was no longer needed. I was laid off, living in a house with a mortgage I couldn’t afford on my own.”
“Wow. So, what did you do?” Marie asked.
“I moved out, got a job at another bank, and then all hell broke loose in the industry,” Shay said as she shook her head. Cocking her head to the side, she looked at Marie. “Not the story you expected, huh? Thought I was a former crack head or something?”
Marie didn’t want to say yes, but that had been what she’d been thinking. “I just ...”
“It’s all right, a lot of people hear ‘homeless’ and think drugs, prostitution, and forget that anyone could find themselves in my shoes at any time. Nothing is promised.”
Marie nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “Nothing is promised. Your family couldn’t help you?”
Shay snorted and took a deep drag of her cigarette. “My family and I haven’t spoken in over fifteen years. Even if I had reached out to them for help, they wouldn’t have helped me. My father is a pastor, and he didn’t approve of my lifestyle.”
“Your lifestyle?”
“He didn’t approve of my husband, nor the fact that I had an abortion,” Shay revealed. “When he threw me out, I told myself that I would never ask him to help me with anything.”
“But ...”
Shay threw her hand up. “I wish things had turned out differently for me. I wish that I had a home and supportive family, but I’m getting back on my feet and making my own way. I’m learning how to be a chef from one of the most world-renowned chefs around. Things are not as bad as they could be.”
“I think it’s amazing you can find something positive in your situation,” Marie said.
Shay laughed. “I guess you think having to volunteer at the shelter is pretty difficult. Probably the worst thing that ever happened to you.”
“Well,” she said with a shrug.
“You’re lucky and I hope you know that. So many times, we take life for granted until something happens and makes you look at what’s really important. I’m going back inside, you coming?”
“In a minute,” Marie said. She watched Shay return inside and thought about life without her father. So many times he should’ve turned his back on her after antics that she pulled, but he didn’t. Maybe it was time for her to change her ways.
Marie walked into the restaurant as the filming of Devon’s show wrapped and the audience gave him a standing ovation. She watched him as he shook hands with his fans and took pictures with many of them. Devon’s smile made Marie melt, made her think of ways she could make him smile. Too bad he simply saw her as a troublemaker.
Devon glanced at Marie, wondering why she was staring at him intently. Figuring that she was pissed off about how long it had taken to complete the filming of the show, he winked at her and continued taking pictures with his fans.
Was that a smile he saw on her face?
he wondered when he glanced at her. Marie was pretty when she smiled. Hell, she was pretty when she scowled, but that attitude of hers. He noticed that she and Shay were talking and smiling at each other. That was interesting. Maybe Marie wasn’t as bad as he had originally thought. Shay didn’t take well to strangers, but she and Marie were talking as if they were old friends.
Was that a smile he saw on her face?
he wondered when he glanced at her. Marie was pretty when she smiled. Hell, she was pretty when she scowled, but that attitude of hers. He noticed that she and Shay were talking and smiling at each other. That was interesting. Maybe Marie wasn’t as bad as he had originally thought. Shay didn’t take well to strangers, but she and Marie were talking as if they were old friends.
“Devon,” Alicia said as she nudged him in his ribs. “Are you listening to me?”
“What?” he replied. Alicia followed his gaze to where Marie was standing. She laughed quietly.
“So, what’s that all about?” Alicia asked.
“Just watching how she interacts with the ladies from My Sister’s Keeper,” he said. “Stop trying to read into things.”
“I saw how you were looking at Marie Charles, and I’m sure that it had nothing to do with the ladies you work with. You’re starting to like her,” Alicia teased.
“No, I’m not,” he said. “I’m just impressed that she’s getting along with the ladies.”
“And how are you two getting along?” she asked.
“Today is our first day working together,” he replied. “So, I can’t answer that. But whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”
“OK,” Alicia said. “If that’s how you’re playing it.”
“I have to get the ladies back to My Sister’s Keeper. Do you have some information for me about the fund-raiser?”
Alicia reached into her purse and handed him an invitation. “I’m going to send these to some of the businesses around the city. People who probably won’t show up but will make a donation; they’re going out this week.”
Devon hugged Alicia excitedly. “That’s great. I can’t wait for this event to happen and see how much money we can raise for these women.”
“I’m glad you’re excited about this, but I still think you want something extra with Marie. I know that look.”
“What look?”
Alicia folded her arms across her chest. “The same look you gave Kandace in college before you asked her out for the first time.”
“Whatever,” he said as he took his chef’s jacket off and draped it across his arm. “I’m going to change and check on the kitchen staff.”
“And I’m going to talk to Marie,” Alicia said, then walked away.
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