“I don’t mean to suggest the guys are sexist or anything, sugar—”
Yeah, right. If she ever met a guy who wasn’t sexist, now that would be something.
“—but I’m pretty sure they would give me even more crap if I got beat up by a woman.”
“It’s better to lose to a kitten than a woman?” Vi demanded, so furious he was seriously lucky she didn’t have a pot to hand.
“I didn’t say I thought so. I’d definitely rather lose to you.” He looked hopeful. “Want to see if you can floor me?”
She growled.
“Physically, I mean. You’ve already floored me in all the figurative ways.” He gave her a bewitchingly cute smile.
“You do realize that the only thing keeping you alive right now is how badly it would ruin my chances of having your president visit if I was in jail for homicide?”
“Well…there might be one other little thing keeping me alive,” he mentioned, with this lurking amusement. As far as she could tell, amusement pretty much always lurked somewhere in him. That man had not taken her seriously once.
She gave him a blank look.
“I might be able to defend myself a teeny bit?” he suggested meekly, hunching his shoulders to try to look small and vulnerable. He completely failed to manage to shrink that tough, big body with that gesture.
She frowned at him.
“Except against pink peekaboo panties. I’d definitely lose to those.”
Yeah, see. She’d had exactly the same thought about how fast she could get him on his knees with the right panties. Damn it. Why was he doing this to her?
Fine.
Fine.
She knew exactly why.
He was hot. He was cocky, in that way she utterly loved, as if his confidence was very well-founded. He kept making her laugh. And if she didn’t manage to control that utterly enticing cocksureness of his—
“Oh, thank you, Jesus, I had a thought,” he said with stunned relief.
She blinked. “Ah…I take it that’s rare for you?”
“Well, I was beginning to think you had permanently fried my brain.” He put his fingers to his head and gave it a slight, adjusting shake. “Look at that,” he said with delight. “There are two entire brain cells there that managed to survive. Maybe there’s hope.”
“Why don’t I share your optimism?”
He grinned at her. “Because you’re French. And it rains and it’s forty degrees in your country in freaking July. You’re going to like Texas so much better, honey. In July, we hit 114! Plus, there are stars.”
“Not Michelin ones, there aren’t.” Might as well go open a restaurant in the Antarctic, as far as Michelin was concerned. “That thought you had?”
“Oh, you’re going to like this one, honey. I thought it on your behalf, in case your brain was fried, too.” A hopeful look.
She rolled her eyes.
He grinned. “Listen to this brilliance: failing to control me doesn’t mean you’ve failed to control your kitchens, lost hard-earned respect, exposed yourself to sexual gossip from your staff, and ruined your career. Isn’t that beautiful?” Just like that she was against a wall, and he had his hands braced on either side of her head, laughing but with a heat in his eyes that curled all through her. “Like right now. If you fail to get a handle on me, your entire career doesn’t suffer for it.” He smiled down at her. Down, even though she was a tall woman and wearing heels. “Pretty fun, right?”
Well…yeah. It was almost irresistible fun. Because if she could get him out of her actual kitchens, it was true. She could tangle with his cockiness all she wanted, flex her strength against his and maybe, for once, not win, and the next day, she could stride into her kitchen and still be in charge of it. Nobody would be gossiping about her. Nobody would be thinking that since she let him roll her under him in a bed, she was under him now in her kitchens, too. She could have just, like, fun.
With that hot body, and that irrepressible cockiness, and that sense of humor. That refusal to take her seriously, that ability to turn every single damn thing she said into a joke, could have devastating effects on her authority in the kitchens. She’d dealt with enough men who tried not to take her seriously, thank you.
But here…she could just let him drive her crazy and enjoy it. Drive him crazy, too.
Hein. For only two functioning brain cells, he’d managed to come up with a halfway decent thought there.
It almost suggested that a man who could manage to turn every single thing she said back on her, and nearly get a laugh out of her every time, might be far smarter than he was currently playing.
A wisp of caution ghosted through her.
Those blue eyes laughed and challenged. Those big biceps were just a few centimeters from her head. “I’m all done here,” he murmured. “I guess you pass muster.”
“I…what?”
He made a little moue and held up a cautious hand. “You run a fairly tight ship.”
“I run a—fairly—” She should never have put down her knives.
“I guess my client will be okay in your hands,” he said. “Your food probably won’t kill him.”