“You’re wicked with that knife.”


“Knife skills are one of the best weapons in a chef’s arsenal,” Remy said.


Remy found the same comfort of working in the kitchen with Staci as he did in his own kitchen back home. But that didn’t surprise him; he’d always known he was meant to be a chef. He just wasn’t sure he was meant to follow his father’s and uncles’ culinary vision.


Staci distracted him and that intrigued him. He’d had affairs before—he was too passionate and his sexual drive was too high for him not to. But he’d never allowed himself an affair with another chef. It seemed to him that life was best served by keeping his personal and professional lives separate.


Now, he wasn’t sure. He watched her dip her spoon into the sauce she was preparing and that tiny pink tongue of hers darted out to lick it. In his mind, he moved closer to her and tested the sauce, not from the spoon but from her lips.


“Want a taste?” she asked.


He snapped back to the present and nodded. He wanted way more than a taste, but that would be a good place to start.

She held the spoon out to him but he took her wrist and drew her closer to him.
Her lips parted and her tongue darted out again, this time to wet her lips. Her pupils dilated and there was a rosy flush that climbed up her face.


“Delicious…” he said.