Feel the Heat (Hot In the Kitchen)

chapter Fifteen


There was no respite from the heat inside the fourth-floor studio of the Flatiron Arts Building in Wicker Park. Not that it would have made a blind bit of difference. The studio Lili shared with Zander was small and stuffy, but still large enough that she should have been able to keep a sane, chilled distance from Jack.

Seemed they both had other ideas.

Gravitating. That’s what they were doing. No touching, not since he had held her during her meltdown back at his restaurant, but a couple of circuits of the space seemed to exert a curious animal magnetism. If he wasn’t standing next to her, she came to him. If she found herself alone, it didn’t last. He would slide in by her side, swarming her senses.

He tilted his head while examining one of Zander’s very earthy male nudes, hung, ahem, on the studio’s north-facing wall, and did a marvelous job of keeping his upper lip stiff.

“This guy sells?” His gaze skimmed the $3,000 price card, tucked discreetly at the corner.

She nodded. “Quite well. He was part of the New Artists exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Art last fall.”

He arced around her and moved to the next one. Every hair on her neck stood to attention as he passed. “I’m going to go out on a limb and say you didn’t bring me here to look at photos of naked men. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. There was no reason to be nervous; he’d already seen her more conservative photos on DeLuca’s walls and the collage in her apartment where everyone but Lili took a starring role. It was just that she rarely showed her real work to anyone but her artist friends. The unsuitable people who understood the beauty and the pain.

Jack understood beauty, and from what he’d said about his father, he had more than a nodding acquaintance with pain. Back at his restaurant site, she had wanted to draw him into her body and hug away his hurt. Assure him she was worthy of his trust. But he had slapped on his emotional armor and shut her down. After how she had treated him, could she blame him?

Fingers shaking, she yanked open the top drawer of the corner file cabinet, acutely conscious of the stunning hunk of male at her shoulder. Which first? Which first? Her mind raced as fast as her deft fingers raked through the prints, passing over the luminous black and white close-ups of her mother, starkly beautiful during her treatment. Lili’s delicate emotional state meant those photos would have to wait for another day. Today, she would show the work that made her smile. She plucked out one of her favorites. Sadie Number Three.

She held it for Jack and smothered her surprise when he took it from her. No need to tell him to be careful about smudgy fingerprints. A man with hands like his knew exactly how to hold a photo. Like he held a woman. Gentle and sure.

He gave it a long beat of his attention, then walked the couple of feet to Zander’s drafting table, where he placed it in one corner.

“More,” he said, his eyes still glued to the photo. More, he’d said when he kissed her that first, pulsating time. Until now, she’d forgotten that brief exchange, that moment when they made the leap from testing to knowing. He hadn’t waited for her answer then. He had taken because he wanted.

She loved that about him.

Pulse quickening, she mined more prints from her catalog. On the table, she positioned them in a grid and stood back, waiting.

He switched a couple of them around. She sighed and earned herself a quelling look. Quiet. Genius at work. A couple of tight minutes passed, the hum of street traffic below providing inadequate cover for her thundering heart.

His brow crimped. “Why aren’t you selling these?”

The manic giggle she loosed did nothing for her nerves. “Do you know anything about art?”

“No, I don’t. I usually have to have it explained to me very slowly.” Touché. “But I know what I like.”

“Photos of half-naked women?” Damn, she had a serious case of foot-in-mouth disease today.

“Your photos of half-naked women, though really the way you’ve composed them makes them more Vanity Fair than Playboy. These are beautiful. You should be selling them or showing them, not hiding them away in a drawer.” He shook his head, bemused. “What are you planning to do when you go to grad school? Lock yourself in a garret and never exhibit your work?”

“Of course not. But I’m not at that stage yet. I’ve so much to learn.”

He frowned. “You need to put yourself out there and be ready to take your lumps. It’s all part of the creative process. How about explaining to this Philistine what he’s too ignorant to see?”

“It’s supposed to speak for itself,” she said, flustered by his challenge. “Like your food.” That was so dumb. As if her work could exist at the same stratum as Jack’s culinary artistry.

“I describe my food on my shows and in my cookbooks all the time. And MFA students have to defend a thesis, don’t they? Orally.” He rolled the word orally around his mouth like he was tasting it, and her breasts tingled in memory of his hungry mouth devouring her last night. Doubly flustered, she averted her gaze and studied the floor.

The pause stretched like a rubber band.

“So, Rock Chick Red.” He pointed at Sadie Number Three. “What should I be seeing here?”

Lili wasn’t sure why she loved this photo so much. Sadie, the cashier at Classic Trax Records two blocks over, was an indomitable redhead with more curves than the Indy 500 racetrack, so there was that. There was also the elaborate cluster of blue roses that inked up most of her right side, its curly vines snaking down her shapely leg. With her arms strategically placed, the side angle was still more suggestive of her beautiful curves than any full-frontal nude photo.

Exquisite. Breathtaking. A feast made for Lili’s camera. These were all good reasons but not why she loved it.

“Power.” She coughed, peeked sideways, looked down, and stumbled on. “In her eyes, she’s got this look of power. This ‘I’m f*cking beautiful, so bow down before me’ look that’s impossible to fake.” Even now, that power radiated through Lili’s body and made her proud to have witnessed it in person. To have captured its spark through her lens.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod. Unable to meet his direct gaze, she told him what else she saw. Jenny, shot from the neck up, with eyes so fierce they could fell the college quarterback. Kayla, her skin glowing with freckles like a connect-the-dots puzzle, her gaze self-aware and sure. Details of Lili’s favorite spots on a woman’s body: the seductive hollow at the base of the throat, that vulnerable spot behind a knee, the swell of a generous hip. Close-ups of shoulders that bore the weight of families, lovers, and lives well lived.

Each woman was a prime example of female magnificence and strength. Every one was proud of her body, whether it was petite or large, skinny or ample. What she didn’t say was that all of them were braver than Lili, who faked bravado in her superhero costume.

She’d always had little confidence where her work was concerned, though she could occasionally get enough distance to realize it might be good. After all, she had saved for graduate school, hadn’t she? But she never took the next step to apply. Her mother fell ill, her father fell silent, she was needed at the restaurant…excuses, excuses, excuses.

Because it’s never enough and I’m greedy. That’s what Jack had said when she asked why he continued in TV. Why he wasn’t satisfied with what he had. If only she could inhabit for a moment that aura of certainty he projected, feel a sliver of the confidence he exuded, one iota of his raw passion. She lay her head against his strong shoulder and made a wish.

He slid an arm around her waist and grazed his lips against her temple. “Stop hiding, sweetheart. Your work is amazing and so are you.”

Jack Kilroy, woman whisperer.

She wanted to take a chance. She wanted to look at a photo of herself and see the power and pride. Be more like Sadie Number Three instead of Little Miss Do Nothing. Panic at losing this opportunity overrode her cowardice. Faint heart never won fair beefcake.

A murmur, so indistinct she was unsure words had formed, passed her lips.

“Didn’t catch that.”

“I think we should go out on a date,” she said quickly before the true scale of it all could kick in.

He released her and took a couple of steps away, his face strangely impassive. Not exactly the reaction she was expecting. Fear that she had made a huge mistake rocked her, but she’d already come too far to bow out gracefully.

“I mean it,” she protested.

“What changed your mind? My erudite opinions on modern art?”

“Let’s just say I didn’t sleep well last night,” she said, hoping he understood.

“I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since I met you either, Lili.” He looked perturbed. “And the press stuff? You’re all right with that?”

Hell no. “I want to do this.”

He hauled a deep breath and stared at her, his eyes stark and unfathomable. Still no smile. If anything, he appeared relieved. “I can’t guarantee that being with me will be a walk in the park, Lili. But know that I’ll do everything in my power to protect you.”

“Do you promise?” she asked, not because she needed confirmation or even because she believed he could possibly do that. No, she wanted to hear how his voice roughened when he got his caveman on.

His eyes darkened and her panties dampened. Oh, yes.

“Anyone who f*cks with my woman will have me to answer to.”

She had a mini-orgasm on the spot.

His face was awash with fluttering thoughts as he worked something out. “I have to travel for the next few days, but for our first date, I’ll take you anywhere you want. London, Paris, Rome. You name it.”

London, Paris, Rome…oh, my. “Well, there’s this hot dog place I know,” she said.

His mouth twitched. “Sounds classy.”

“Sometimes I’m so classy I can’t stand myself. Best chili dog in Chicago. Duck fat fries. All-night bar.”

“So you liquor me up and ply me with encased meats, and I suppose you’re expecting to get lucky?”

Leaning in, her lips brushed against his stubbled jaw on the way to his ear. “It’s a pretty awesome hot dog, Jack.”

He laughed, a deep rumble that heated her blood and made her heart brim over. This was the Jack she was crazy about. Plumb crazy.

Now that they were dating—oh God, she had agreed to this madness—she felt it was within her rights to touch him freely. Mimicking the guided tour he had given of his body last night, she trailed her hand against his chest and paused as his nipple stiffened under her touch. When she bordered his waistband, he halted her explorations with a hand tight over hers and raised her wrist to his lips.

Hallelujah.

“A little self-control, sweetheart.” He placed a scorching, openmouthed kiss on her pulsing wrist.

Every cell in her body sparked to life and warmth rushed to where his mouth lay. Tingles fired down her arm. Heat raced to her cheeks. The whole shebang.

“I love when you blush, Lili. When your lips part—” On cue, they did just that and she sucked in an emergency breath. “I can’t stop thinking about how beautiful you looked when you came for me last night.”

Speaking of coming… “When does the taping start?” she asked. Begged.

He made a low, needy sound in her ear. “Not enough time, love.”

“I don’t mind if it’s fast. Fast can be hot.” Desperate much? She flicked her tongue along his jaw. “So hot.”

More sexy rumbling noises ensued. “What I have in mind for you is going to be torturous and slow and will take the whole night. In short, we’re going to need a bed.”

After a mind-blowing kitchen table orgasm with gelato as foreplay, now he was reverting to traditional? “Beds are overrated,” she murmured.

“You won’t be saying that after you’ve spent a night in one with me.”

Sweetly struck darts of pleasure shot straight to her groin and she matched his now ragged breathing with her own short tugs. He scraped his jaw against hers, the scruff hiking her desire to urgent. Last night, he had taken care of her. Surely, she could do the same for him?

“You’ve already made me feel so good, Jack. Let me touch you. Please.” She placed her hands on the hard plane of his chest and crept lower. Her hip rocked against the hard ridge of his erection. Wrapping her hands, her mouth around him was all she could think about.

He closed his eyes, evidently rallying his strength. When he opened them again, she read determination. Damn.

“Hands off the goods, DeLuca.” Quickly, he manhandled her shoulders into a turn toward the studio’s exit. “We’ve got a show to get through.”

“Sadist.”

He sighed. “This is—”

“So much harder for you than it is for me. I know. Tell it to the judge, tough guy.”

She made sure to infuse some sway into her step as she headed to the stairs. His deep groan was her reward.

On the short walk back to DeLuca’s, Jack demonstrated steely self-control with hands in pockets and subduing glares whenever she strayed into his orbit. Gorgeous, infuriating man. Inside, Marco and Tad were talking at the bar, or rather Marco was sounding off about something to a silently skeptical Tad.

“Lil,” Marco said chirpily; then his face blackened on noticing Jack. His heavy gaze ping-ponged between the two of them, assessing the situation. “Out and about in public, you two? The rumor mill will be in full swing before the day is out.”

“Marco,” Lili said, exasperated.

Her ex held his hands up in a conciliatory gesture, but the goodwill didn’t quite reach his eyes. His gloomy, sneering gaze told Lili something unexpected—Marco was jealous of Jack. It seemed there was nothing more attractive than being attractive to someone else.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Marco continued, his voice dripping with sullen incredulity. “You two are great for business.”

Something that sounded like a growl came from Jack’s direction; then she felt his hand splay possessively on her hip. Seemed touching was okay when a woman needed claiming. Men. Cara stuck her head around the corner of the short side of the bar, her judgmental gaze immediately shooting to Jack’s hand. “Where the hell have you been?”

Unsure of her sister’s target, Lili looked at Jack only to find him glaring at Marco, a muscle pumping at the edge of his mouth. Oh, boy. Any moment now, they’d be whipping out the tape measures. Last night’s brief hand inspection told her Jack would win. By far.

“You said you’d help, and you”—Cara pointed a peremptory finger at Jack—“need to be in the kitchen. Now. Laurent is having a Gallic fit over the salsa for the lamb chops.”

“I’d best go,” Jack said. Before Lili had a moment to gather herself, he clamped his hand on her butt and drew her close for a kiss that she couldn’t have said no to even if she wanted to. Fairly safe to say that she didn’t want to.

It lasted mere seconds, an infusion of hot, scorching roughness. His lips cut a path of sweet torture across her jaw until coming to rest at her earlobe.

“Tonight, Lili DeLuca, you and that sweet arse of yours are mine.”

Wow, oh wow. With a gentle squeeze of said sweet arse, he strode toward the kitchen, indulging in a clearly calculated shoulder bump against Marco. Tad gave a low whistle while Cara scowled and flounced off to shout at someone else. Heaven help the first person to cross her path.

At Marco’s grim smile, the line from the Grinch song about termites popped into Lili’s head.

“Nice job. Maybe you’ve managed to throw Kilroy off his game.”

Lili considered her ex and flattened her lips. Jack thought she had a beautiful figure. He said she made him so hard it hurt. He wanted to jump her bones in assorted European capitals.

Marco had called her body “comfortable.”

“Tosser,” Lili muttered.

From behind the bar, Tad’s cough sounded suspiciously like, “Awesome.”

Marco frowned. “What’s that?”

“Nothing,” she replied with her most saccharine smile. While she would like nothing more than to stand around telling off her ex for his various dating crimes and misdemeanors, she had better options for channeling the power flooding her veins. It was only a date, but it felt like so much more. A new beginning, a fulfillment of all she had to offer. Tonight, the taping would propel DeLuca’s Ristorante into prosperity and later…later, she would have Jack.