“Fine.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Maybe I did that. But I wasn’t the one who carved my initials into your final dessert evaluation. When I pulled my perfect cheesecake out of the fridge to present to our instructor, you’d completely defiled it!”
“It needed a little embellishment. Pretty sure my efforts only helped your grade point average.” He shrugs. “Plus, in return, you changed FOX to FOXY in the student record system. I don’t even know how you managed that one, but every single piece of paper from that point on was affected. Attendance sheets, grade reports, permanent files. I’m surprised my damn diploma didn’t read EMMETT FOXY.”
I can’t help cracking a grin. “That was some of my best work.”
“Honestly, I’m still curious how you made it happen.”
“I’ll never reveal my sources.” I pause. “However, I will say, it always pays to befriend the school secretary.”
He shakes his head sternly. “Devious. Truly.”
We both grin and, for a moment, it’s easy to forget he’s my arch-rival.
“See?” His smile falters a bit. “It wasn’t all bad.”
“It wasn’t exactly good, though.” I sigh. “I’m surprised we didn’t kill each other. Probably best we haven’t crossed paths, since we graduated.”
“I don’t know if I’d say that.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows roughly. “It’s nice to see you. It always is. Even when you’re glaring at me or threatening to carve me into bits with your rather impressive knife collection.”
I blink slowly, startled by his words.
“Look…” He runs a hand through his hair and blows out a sharp breath. “I can’t apologize for all the shit that went down ten years ago, ‘cause the truth is, I’m not sorry. Sparring with you was damn entertaining. Some of those pranks we played on each other were the best times of my life. You may be a tyrant with a spatula… but you’re a hell of a lot of fun, Ems.”
My mouth gapes.
Did my nemesis… just… compliment me?
“That said… I’m not the same guy I was back then. I’ve changed.”
“Yeah?” I put on a bitchy tone, hoping it might drown out the pounding of my pulse. “Is that why you spent the evening insulting me in every way possible?”
“I insulted your cooking,” he corrects, eyes narrowed. “Not you.”
“Same thing!”
“Is it, though?” His tone drops to a low, intent murmur. “Are you really so defined by this job, you don’t know who you are outside this kitchen?”
I don’t answer.
“When was the last time you got out of that chef’s hat, Emmeline? Let your hair down? Got a bit wild?” He leans in, across the table, eyes never shifting from mine. “When was the last time you did anything at all just for fun?”
Truthfully?
Back in culinary school. With him. Playing stupid pranks.
Since then, my life has been one long string of late nights and endless work. I’ve been so caught up improving my craft, pushing myself to succeed… I can hardly recall the last time I did something just because it made me happy.
“Emmeline.”
My eyes fly up to his and I realize I’ve gone nearly a minute without responding. I search my mind for a convincing lie, coming up short as I get lost in his too-blue stare.
“I… I…” I fumble and, without any other options, blurt out the truth. “I don’t have time for a life. Not yet. Not when I’ve worked so hard to get to this place.” I gesture around at the empty kitchen. My small empire. My entire reason for existence, contained within one room. “Not when I’ve sacrificed so much to land here.”
Emmett shakes his head. “Don’t you see, though? You can’t wait to start living. If you do that, you’ll end up on your death bed, lamenting all the shit you should’ve done. Life isn’t about work.”
“But work is my life.”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s not bullshit!” I snap back. “You should understand better than anyone — what this world is like, how hard it is to get to the top, let alone stay there. Don’t act like you’d walk away from La Folie after everything you did to score that gig.”
His grip tightens on the table. “I never said I’d walk away. And I do get it — trust me, I do. Why the hell else do you think I’m here?”
“Frankly, I have no idea!”
“I came to see you, Emmeline,” he growls. “I had to see you.”
My breath catches. “What?”
“I know it doesn’t make sense — not after all this time. The truth is, I don’t even understand it myself. But… for months, since I first heard you got the job here… Hell, long before that, since the fucking day we left school… I’ve been thinking about you. Wondering about you. Wanting to see you. And I can’t stop.” His voice drops so low, it’s almost inaudible. “I don’t want to stop.”
My mind is spinning. My eyes are wide as saucers.
He stares at me for a moment — one, two, three thudding heartbeats — before he pushes off from the table and starts walking. Every step of his designer shoes against the tile floor rings out like a gunshot as he comes around to my side. He stops a foot away, so close I have to crane my neck to keep my eyes on his.
“Here’s the thing…” His voice is no more than a murmur. “You drive me fucking crazy. You’re the most cocky, competitive, crazy-ass woman I’ve ever met in my life. I don’t see you for eight years and yet, after eight seconds with you, you’re right back under my skin.”
My brows lift. “Is there a point to this deeply complimentary speech? Or am I just supposed to stand here as you list all my less-than-attractive qualities?”
His eyes darken as he leans down, invading my space. I’m breathing too fast as his gaze drops to my mouth, lingering there for what feels like an eternity.
“My point?” he whispers, so close I can feel the words against my lips. “This is my point, Emmeline.”
Before I can respond, before I can move, before I can breathe… his arms wind around my back and he hauls me up against his chest. Our bodies collide the same second his mouth crashes against mine in a hard, unapologetic kiss. I can barely wrap my head around the fact that I’m kissing the very man I swore to hate for all eternity because…
Holy. Mother-Effing. Shit.
Passion explodes between us like two opposing storm fronts. I taste lightning on his tongue as a hurricane of emotion churns through my veins, spinning me out of control within the circle of his arms.
We are a wild tempest. A cyclone of arrogance. A squall of indignation.
He touches me, and a whole decade of hate and lust lashes me like warm rain. He pulls me closer and ten years of need and torment claw at me like gusts of wind.
In the span of a heartbeat, I’ve abandoned my ability to breathe or think or do much of anything, except hang on for dear life while Emmett Fox singlehandedly ruins me. His hands fist in the fabric of my chef’s jacket as he deepens the kiss, his tongue spearing into my mouth as though he’s staking a claim over my body.
My memories.
My mind.
My heart.
His lips are somehow hard and soft, playful and passionate. A steel blade and the softest caress. I can’t quite suppress the small moan that emanates from my throat. I’d be embarrassed he’s managed to elicit such a sound in so short a time, if I could summon a single thought except holy-shit-holy-shit-holy-shit as his lips move over mine.
We’re both panting hard when we finally break apart, breathless and dazed from the force of this strange new attraction tugging us together. His forehead comes down to rest against mine. Our ragged breaths mingle in the gap between our faces. And, for once…
We are entirely out of words. I can conjure no insults, can fathom no quippy retorts. I simply stare at him, dumbfounded by his kiss even as the desire it ignited continues to pump through my system like a drug.
I hate Emmett Fox.
Hate him.
Hate.
Him.
Except…
What if I didn’t?
My lips twitch in the beginnings of a smile as I look up into the eyes of a man I’ve loathed and cursed and taunted. A man I’ve wanted and hated and tortured. A man I’ve never been able to get out of my head, whether it’s obsessing over ways to destroy him or dreaming of what it might feel like to take a peek under his chef’s jacket.