The Sextet - Sharing [The Sextet Anthology, Volume 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) by The Sextet Page A

until I say so.”
    “Sure thing, Wren.” He ambled to the cook station on the far left,
    leaving her to stare at his broad shoulders and tight, muscular ass.
    Mm-mm. Beefcake, it’s what’s for dinner.
    “Nice setup.”
    Of course it was. She worked in the space every day, had designed
    it herself. No respectable food chemist would settle for less.
    “Thanks.”

    Two Many Cooks
    87
    A metallic knock brought her attention back to the door. Spencer
    Andrews, Dane’s partner in crime, if not in business. She turned toward the man she fantasized about every other time she pulled out
    Reliable Richard. Storm-gray eyes met hers. Her lungs seized again,
    and her nipples tightened against the fabric of her bra, sending a
    spasm of anticipation between her legs. She suppressed a moan.
    Damn, but she’d have a vision of sexiness with Dick tonight. Maybe
    two if she felt adventurous.
    “Hi, I’m Spence Andr—”
    “Desiree couldn’t be here. I’m the—”
    “Wren McCoskey. Wow. I’d know those pretty green eyes
    anywhere. What happened to the long red hair? Not that I don’t love
    the multicolored spiky look.” He smiled and toyed with one of her
    spikes, sending a shiver down her spine.
    Be still my heart. And could I please not spontaneously combust?
    “—maid of honor. You’re at the station on the far right.”
    He tilted his head to one side. “You do realize this presentation is
    unnecessary, don’t you? Dane specializes in pompous in that
    pretentious restaurant he runs with your brother. If you want an
    enjoyable meal, I’m your guy.”
    I don’t doubt you taste delicious. “Desi said head-to-head
    competition.” Shall I smack myself now? What a choice of words.
    Why did she torture herself?
    His mouth formed a grim line. “I don’t like being forced to sell
    myself, but if that’s what it takes to convince you, then I guess I have
    no choice.”
    Brooding looked good on him. Not pouty or whiny. Too damn
    sexy. And she was buying, for herself, if not Desi’s reception.
    She strode to her test kitchen area, sensing Spencer’s presence
    behind her. “Gentlemen, you have four hours to create two appetizers,
    a salad course, one bread, a soup course, and two entrees—one meat
    and one vegetarian. Both stations have been stocked with the same
    supplies and tools. Read and sign the agreement on the center island,

    88
    Mellanie Szereto
    stating you will follow my rules and abide by my decision. Refuse to
    sign and you’re disqualified. Sabotage will not be tolerated. Any questions?”
    “Yeah, I have a question. Are you dessert?”
    The words must’ve come from Spencer since she stood facing
    Dane, and his lickable lips hadn’t moved, except to grin at the man
    behind her. Hmm . Maybe Desiree’s request had some benefits besides gourmet cuisine and great scenery after all. “That depends on who
    wins.”
    Let them stew over that. I win either way.
    Spencer rounded the center island of station two. “The bride
    didn’t say what we’ll be making. Do you have the menu, Wren?”
    She smirked at him, then at Dane.
    With pen poised above the contract, Dane froze. “Okay, what’s
    the catch?”
    “No menu. Use whatever you have in the kitchen to make your
    own.” She grinned.
    Fletcher frowned at her. “That twist was your idea, wasn’t it?”
    “Got it in one.” She shrugged. “Be creative. Isn’t that every chef’s
    desire?”
    Spencer’s laugh tickled her insides. “Or we’re put on the chopping
    block?”
    “Yeah. So chop, chop. The clock is ticking.” Tapping her finger
    against the face of her watch, Wren raised her eyebrows. “Six o’clock
    deadline. I’ll make my decision at six-thirty.”
    Then we’ll see about dessert. Eenie, meenie, mine-ee, mo. Was
    she in the mood for a Dane-ish or a Spencer Cocktail? Maybe her
    Magic 8-Ball could help with the answer.
    “I’ll be back in a minute.” Putting an extra wiggle in her hips, she
    walked to her office, closing the