Free Some Like It Hot by Lori Wilde Page B

and peeling and slicing and dicing. The food processor whirled. The radio perched on the windowsill played zydeco music. The air was thick with steam from the kettle of gumbo simmering on the back stove, the perfect blend of garlic and onions and bell peppers scenting the air.
    As Melanie stared into Robert’s eyes, the background sounds and smells faded away and all she could think was I’m in deep trouble here .
    And then she saw something in his face that surprised her, something that took her thoughts from herself and her own concerns. Robert looked like a man who’d been hurt deeply and was scared of finding himself right back at a place he thought he’d left far behind. There was a melancholia about him that she’d only caught quick glimpses of before.
    A loneliness, a longing. She understood how that felt, and it called to something familiar inside of her.
    She kept staring at him, trying to see more, read him better, but his expression changed and he put a sexy smile on his face, belying the darkness lurking in his eyes just seconds earlier.
    Had she imagined it?
    “How’s the burn?”
    She glanced down. She’d taken off the bandage. The burn was nothing but faint pink streaks now. “Feeling no pain, thanks to your quick response and first aid.”
    “I’m glad.”
    More awkward silence stretched between them. This time he was the one who rushed to fill it.
    “Your turkey awaits.” He gestured toward the bird laid out on the prep table.
    “Are you trying to butter me up for some reason?” she asked, still feeling suspicious, waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was being too nice. What was the catch?
    “Guilty,” he admitted.
    She should have known. A guy who could admit he was wrong, with no strings attached, was a mythological creature.
    Melanie crossed her arms over her chest. “What is it?”
    “You’ve got to make me a promise.”
    “I don’t make promises until I know what it is I’m promising,” she said.
    “We can’t have a repeat of last night.”
    “You’re saying no more kissing?”
    “Precisely.”
    “Why not?” On the one hand, she agreed with him completely, but on the other hand, she really wanted to kiss him again. Fool that she was.
    “We need to set a good example for the rest of the kitchen staff.”
    “Lame. I’m not buying it.”
    “It would disrupt our work environment.”
    He had a point. She thought of how her volatile relationship with her ex had boiled over on the job.
    “Especially,” Robert continued, “when things don’t work out between us.”
    “What makes you think things couldn’t work out?” she asked.
    His expression grew serious. “Come on, Melanie, we’re night and day. The best we could hope for would be a lot of great sex.”
    “And what’s wrong with that?”
    “No matter how hard you try to keep emotions out of it, sex always complicates things.”
    “You don’t know what you’re missing,” she teased.
    Robert’s smile was wistful. “I’m certain you’re right about that.”
    “Be honest. You’re afraid of me, aren’t you? That’s the real reason.”
    “Hell, yes.”
    “How come?”
    “You’re way more woman than I can handle.” His gaze traveled from her eyes to her lips and lower.
    “Is that a compliment or a complaint?”
    “I like things ordered, organized, predictable.”
    “I know that. The first thing you did when you got this job was label the shelves and have everyone’s name sewn on their aprons. But here’s a little secret.” She leaned closer, her lips grazing his ear. “Predictable is boring.”
    She didn’t imagine it; he was doing his best not to shudder. Oh yeah. Whether he knew it or not, she could have him if she wanted him. Question was, did she want him?
    “Predictable is safe,” he continued.
    “What’s so great about safety?”
    “Cuts down on the chaos.”
    “What’s wrong with chaos?”
    “It’s messy.”
    “What’s wrong with messy?”
    “It’s out of