Free Heat: A Bad Boy Chef Romance by Lila Moore Page B

take control of the situation before the whole restaurant burned down.
    “Well?” he asked. “Say yes.”
    We stood there trapped in limbo. I wanted to say yes, but could I trust him? Was he lying to me again? To my surprise, Moreau stood before me, waiting for a response. It must have killed him knowing there was disaster brewing in his kitchen and he wasn’t there to correct it. Was he really putting me ahead of the restaurant? It was hard to believe.
    “Yes,” I said.
    Moreau smiled and leaned in as if to kiss me. He thought better of it when he realized the entire kitchen was watching. He ran his hand down my arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps across my skin.
    “I’ll see you after work,” he said running out of his office to put out the fire.

Moreau
     
     
     
     
     
    So Gwen was fucking the food blogger Boone? Figures. One way or another, Gwen always got what she wanted. She wasn’t above using her body to manipulate a situation. I’d fallen into that trap once before.
    For a time, Gwen drove me crazy. She was amazing in bed, but the girl could be psychotic. She had a vengeful streak in her that any reasonable person would fear. Of course I wasn’t always the most reasonable guy. I thought I could control the situation, but Gwen was too much for me.
    After her husband caught us together, she blamed me for her divorce. She was under the impression she bore no responsibility for anything. I told her that I wasn’t the one who took a vow to love, honor and cherish her husband. She didn’t care.
    I put the incident behind me when she approached me with an offer I couldn’t refuse. Gwen was opening a new restaurant with a group of investors. They wanted me to oversee it. She promised me total control. I got to pick the menu, the ingredients, how the restaurant was decorated, everything. I should have known it was too good to be true, but I was too eager.
    I wanted to start a new restaurant after the disaster that was my last place. We’d managed to get a Michelin Star, but I couldn’t enjoy it. I hated everything about that place. The investors were constantly breathing down my neck to maximize profits, the staff was incompetent, the clients were demanding. It felt impossible to please anyone.
    Eventually, the restaurant folded. The failure humiliated me, but I was more than happy to get out of there and start over.
    Lost in thought, I suddenly found myself in front of Roche’s apartment. Was this what starting over felt like? My stomach was a bundle of nerves. Girls don’t make me nervous, but there was something about Roche. Not only was she stunning, but I felt like I had to prove something to her. Maybe that I wasn’t the asshole everyone dismissed me as.
    I knew I’d been hard on her in the kitchen, but that’s life in a stressful, demanding job. I didn’t treat her any differently than the others.
    I cleared my throat and rang the buzzer. The door unlocked and I headed up. I’d come with an impressive spread: a charcuterie board full of the best meats and cheeses in the city, not to mention a very good bottle of wine. I was sure she’d appreciate it, if for no other reason than the fact she’d been eating nothing but crap lately. I don’t know how a chef could tolerate microwavable dinners. It was sacrilegious.
    Roche opened the door as I approached her apartment. She gave me a small, enigmatic Mona Lisa smile. Her hair was down, hanging long over her breasts. She wore a tight ankle-length, white dress- again without a bra. Did she do that on purpose because she knew it drove me wild?
    I wasn’t sure how to greet her. Should I hug her? Kiss her? Luckily, my hands were full. I didn’t have the opportunity to be awkward and set a strange tone for the night.
    “Am I late?” I said, for lack of anything better to say.
    “No. We never set a time, really… though I was starting to wonder if you were coming.”
    “I wouldn’t let you down like that,” I said awkwardly. So much for