Free Fortune's Just Desserts by Marie Ferrarella Page A

thoughts of Wendy’s smile or hints of that accent of hers would suddenly burst into his brain, distracting him and ruining what should have been a perfect evening with a very desirable woman. He’d wound up taking her home rather than to his bed. And it was all Wendy’s fault.
    â€œGood morning, Wendy.” Marcos mouthed thegreeting automatically to get it out of the way. “I want you working in the kitchen today.”
    This wasn’t the first time he’d ordered her to stay in the kitchen rather than serve out in the dining area. Exchanging a look with Eva, Wendy suppressed a sigh.
    â€œWhat am I peeling today?” she wanted to know, raising her eyes to his. “Potatoes or carrots? Or is it both?”
    â€œIt’s neither,” Marcos informed her tersely. He looked impatiently at the rest of the staff and they took the hint, making themselves scarce. All but Enrique, who made it his business to know everyone else’s. The chef waited expectantly.
    Wendy stiffened. She was confident enough in her own skin now not to want any special treatment, but neither did she want to be singled out for all the mind-numbing chores that required absolutely no skills whatsoever.
    For a glimmer of a moment, as a hint of anger flitted across her face, Marcos saw his way out. But then, because right now it served his purposes better to have her stay on than to leave, Marcos let the opportunity pass. Especially since he’d sampled what she could do in the kitchen. And Enrique had assured him that Wendy was capable of more, so much more.
    And, after yesterday, Marcos knew that the man had turned out to be right.
    He was far too good a restaurateur to pass up atalent like hers just because she was incredibly irritating—and alluring—and had taken to haunting his dreams.
    â€œI’d like you to take charge of desserts,” he said evenly.
    â€œDesserts?” she asked, incredulous. Her eyes narrowed as she continued looking at Marcos.
    This had to be some kind of a trick.
    Or a cruel joke.
    At her expense.
    But the next words out of the restaurant manager’s mouth proved her fears wrong.
    â€œYes, desserts.” Each word seemed to burn on his tongue as he said, “I want you to make some more of that thing you came up with yesterday.”
    He still didn’t actually believe that Wendy was responsible for creating the confection all by herself on the spot, but this was no time to get into a discussion about it. They would be opening the restaurant doors in less than an hour and he needed to have a number of those desserts ready to go the minute an order came in for it.
    â€œThink you can do that?” he asked pointedly.
    Hot words rose in her throat as the temptation to quit nearly overcame her. But then what Marcos was saying registered.
    The man was actually acknowledging that she’d done something right! It couldn’t have been easy for the Marcos she’d come to know to say that, she thought.
    So she smiled warmly and said, “I think I might be able to manage that for you, Marcos.”
    He started to tell her that she still had no right to be that familiar with him, but then he let it go. He wasn’t about to continue playing games with her.
    Oh, no? What do you call all but begging her to whip up her dessert so that you could list it on the menu again? Whose game is that?
    Marcos pressed his lips together, suppressing yet another sigh, and did his best to ignore the annoying little voice in his head. He still had to get out the rest of this offer.
    â€œAnd when we close our doors for the lunch-dinner break—” he began, pushing each word out as if it was an unwieldy, heavy rock.
    And then he stopped. This was really hard for him to say.
    She’d drawn closer to him, as if to coax out the rest of his sentence. “Yes?”
    â€œFeel free to experiment with anything else that we can put on the menu.”
    Wendy gave him a