work. He grabbed an apron and tied it around his waist.
He tossed the sandwiches Nikki made into a fry pan to heat them up, melting the cheese and toasting the bread. Joan Jett curled around his ankles begging until he tossed some chopped ham into her bowl. “Don’t ever ask me to cook much more than this. That’s why I have Jean-Luc.”
Nikki leaned her elbows on the counter and he got a delicious glimpse of cleavage. She’d tasted like vanilla and spice. Merde . He wanted more.
“Didn’t you literally grow up in a bakery? How can you not cook? How can you judge chefs if you’re not one yourself?”
“So many questions, ma petite gateaux . So you have discovered my real secret, oui ?”
She frowned and he found it adorable. He resisted the urge to kiss the frown away.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were on television? Now everyone will think I have some diabolical plan to use you to further my career.”
“Don’t you? Stick with me, baby, and you’ll learn a thing or two.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“That is a very bad Groucho Marx impersonation.” She took a swig of her milk and he watched her.
“Where are your glasses?” She had beautiful eyes. He wanted them to watch him pleasuring her.
“They’re upstairs in my room. I don’t need them all the time, just for distance. You’re avoiding my questions.” She fiddled with her earlobe as if unsure she should be so direct, but her gaze boldly met his.
“I thought you’d know everything about me. What with Emmaline and Mimi emailing so often.” He slid the grilled sandwich onto the plate in front of her.
“Mimi never mentioned anything about you. She just kept telling me I should go work for Madame Guiscard. We both thought it would be a done deal. I didn’t expect to be turned away.” She waited until he had picked up his sandwich before she took a bite.
“Ever since my Uncle Victor died, Emmaline has been very cautious.”
“Wouldn’t you help her if she got in trouble?”
“Of course.” He frowned at her. What kind of man did she think he was? “She’s family. Wouldn’t you help your family?”
“Absolutely. I stayed with Mimi while she was sick instead of going to college. It seemed more important.” Nikki ate her sandwich with gusto, the juices from the roasted pepper dribbling down her arm.
He couldn’t let himself be distracted from his goal. “Jessica didn’t help?”
Nikki sighed, sucking on her arm before she wiped it with a paper towel. “Jessica’s never been the most reliable person. She did look out for me as a kid when we were young. And she was like a second mother to me, after Mimi, of course. But she’s gone her own way for the past five years—found other causes. I guess she figures I can take care of myself now. Although, I have you to thank for rescuing me this time.”
“That’s me—the knight in shining armor.” He gave her a wry grin. If she only knew, she’d probably run screaming from the room. Or take a knife to him. That seemed more her style.
Nikki shifted on the stool, giving him another of those looks as she had in the pantry, trying to decipher if he was lying or not. “I don’t want to talk about her. Tell me about you. How can you judge people’s food when you don’t cook? How can you criticize me for wanting a life making pastry, when you yourself enjoy it so much? And tell me how you can kiss me, then act like nothing happened.” She twisted the paper towel between her hands.
He stood and opened a high cabinet, took out the Green Spot whiskey, and splashed some into two highball glasses. He handed her one. “To your health.” With a clink and a salute, he tossed it down, noting with satisfaction as Nikki threw hers back. She gasped at the burn and he smiled. “You’re a brave one, aren’t you?” He poured another glass and waved the bottle toward her in a silent question. She nodded. He sat down and sipped his second measure.
“One, a person can know flavors
He tossed the sandwiches Nikki made into a fry pan to heat them up, melting the cheese and toasting the bread. Joan Jett curled around his ankles begging until he tossed some chopped ham into her bowl. “Don’t ever ask me to cook much more than this. That’s why I have Jean-Luc.”
Nikki leaned her elbows on the counter and he got a delicious glimpse of cleavage. She’d tasted like vanilla and spice. Merde . He wanted more.
“Didn’t you literally grow up in a bakery? How can you not cook? How can you judge chefs if you’re not one yourself?”
“So many questions, ma petite gateaux . So you have discovered my real secret, oui ?”
She frowned and he found it adorable. He resisted the urge to kiss the frown away.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were on television? Now everyone will think I have some diabolical plan to use you to further my career.”
“Don’t you? Stick with me, baby, and you’ll learn a thing or two.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“That is a very bad Groucho Marx impersonation.” She took a swig of her milk and he watched her.
“Where are your glasses?” She had beautiful eyes. He wanted them to watch him pleasuring her.
“They’re upstairs in my room. I don’t need them all the time, just for distance. You’re avoiding my questions.” She fiddled with her earlobe as if unsure she should be so direct, but her gaze boldly met his.
“I thought you’d know everything about me. What with Emmaline and Mimi emailing so often.” He slid the grilled sandwich onto the plate in front of her.
“Mimi never mentioned anything about you. She just kept telling me I should go work for Madame Guiscard. We both thought it would be a done deal. I didn’t expect to be turned away.” She waited until he had picked up his sandwich before she took a bite.
“Ever since my Uncle Victor died, Emmaline has been very cautious.”
“Wouldn’t you help her if she got in trouble?”
“Of course.” He frowned at her. What kind of man did she think he was? “She’s family. Wouldn’t you help your family?”
“Absolutely. I stayed with Mimi while she was sick instead of going to college. It seemed more important.” Nikki ate her sandwich with gusto, the juices from the roasted pepper dribbling down her arm.
He couldn’t let himself be distracted from his goal. “Jessica didn’t help?”
Nikki sighed, sucking on her arm before she wiped it with a paper towel. “Jessica’s never been the most reliable person. She did look out for me as a kid when we were young. And she was like a second mother to me, after Mimi, of course. But she’s gone her own way for the past five years—found other causes. I guess she figures I can take care of myself now. Although, I have you to thank for rescuing me this time.”
“That’s me—the knight in shining armor.” He gave her a wry grin. If she only knew, she’d probably run screaming from the room. Or take a knife to him. That seemed more her style.
Nikki shifted on the stool, giving him another of those looks as she had in the pantry, trying to decipher if he was lying or not. “I don’t want to talk about her. Tell me about you. How can you judge people’s food when you don’t cook? How can you criticize me for wanting a life making pastry, when you yourself enjoy it so much? And tell me how you can kiss me, then act like nothing happened.” She twisted the paper towel between her hands.
He stood and opened a high cabinet, took out the Green Spot whiskey, and splashed some into two highball glasses. He handed her one. “To your health.” With a clink and a salute, he tossed it down, noting with satisfaction as Nikki threw hers back. She gasped at the burn and he smiled. “You’re a brave one, aren’t you?” He poured another glass and waved the bottle toward her in a silent question. She nodded. He sat down and sipped his second measure.
“One, a person can know flavors
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