Her Sexiest Surprise. Dawn Atkins
of a TV chef.
“Looks like you know what you’re doing. Do you cook a lot?” Despite everything, he was pleased to have her in his kitchen making him breakfast.
“I’m practicing for culinary school.” She laid slices of ham into a cupcake pan, then began whipping eggs.
“So you’re looking to become a chef?”
“I love making people happy with food.” She grinned, her drying hair forming soft curls against her cheeks. “Eventually I hope to own a restaurant, though I know that’s a tough business.”
He realized he was ogling her. “Can I help with anything?” he asked to distract himself.
“Chop these mushrooms and scallions maybe? Very fine, please. Then, could you set the table?” She grabbed a knife from his rack. “These are good knives. You must cook some, too.”
“When I have time, which isn’t often.” He’d eaten far too much pizza, takeout and convenience-store burritos of late.
“You work too much?”
“Probably. More overtime than my lieutenant wants, that’s for sure.” He shrugged. “Leads dry up fast if you don’t push when you have them.”
“So you’re dedicated.” Her stirring slowed as she studied him. She was thinking that meant he’d move heaven and earth to save her father, he’d bet. “That doesn’t surprise me about you.”
“Why not?”
“Because of how you were…with me.” She blushed again. “You paid attention. You had a lot of…focus.” Her spoon slowed, as if she were remembering them in bed. Her eyes glowed like they had their own burners.
“I had you naked. Who wouldn’t focus?”
A shiver moved through her. “Riley…” she said softly.
“Yeah,” he said, backing away. Sex was out now. His body registered disappointment with a low-grade ache.
She turned to pour the batter into the waffle iron. The promising sizzle and the smell of sweet dough had him salivating like Idle, who sat at attention, hoping for spillage.
“God, that smells good,” he said.
“I hope it tastes as good.” She busied herself mixing what he’d chopped into the egg mixture, dashing in herbs and oil, then layering the ham into each cupcake space. He couldn’t take his eyes from her flying fingers. Or her tight backside and softly swaying breasts. The scene was like a dream—breakfast aromas and a warm, enticing woman in his kitchen.
Idle whined desperately.
Chloe laughed. “Maybe you can have a bite, Idle,” she said. “Did he get that name because he idolizes you?”
He laughed. “It’s Idle. Like an engine. He was in a cage in a suspect’s house, so skinny and weak I thought he was dead, but when I got close he vibrated with this low buzz like a car in Neutral. It was all he could manage.”
“How sad.” Idle stared up at her as if she was some kind of doggie saint.
“The way he’s looking at you at the moment, maybe I should spell it the other way. I know how you feel, boy,” Riley added.
She lifted her gaze to his.
He was leaning in, going for a kiss, kicking himself the whole way, when the timer dinged. They both pulled apart like boxers at the end of a round.
Chloe turned back to her cooking and he busied himself setting the table with the white plates and cheap silverware he’d bought when he got into the Academy. He dressed up the table with Chloe’s purple flowers in their pot. Not bad…
“If this meal turns out as good as I think it will, I’ll use it at my new job,” she said.
“You’re quitting Enzo’s?”
“No. I’ll still be there. My birthday gift from the Sylvestris was an offer to be their cook and housekeeper. They’re paying me too much, but it’s really to help me with culinary school. How could I say no?”
“That’s generous of them.” What was she doing getting so hooked up with a mob family? Not safe and not wise.
“It’s the kind of people they are. Our families go back a long way. My father worked for Enzo’s dad back in Chicago.”
“Really? How’d you all end up in Phoenix?” He needed to learn what she knew before he said more.
“Ten years ago, Enzo had a heart scare and retired so he could spend more time with his family—Natalie’s his second wife and the kids were little. We came out two years later. My dad drives him around and does odd jobs. Enzo mostly golfs, fishes, does the restaurant. He…putters, really.”
Putters? Not exactly how Riley would describe profiting from drugs, vice and extortion, but he kept that to himself. Instead, he said, “The guy hardly needs a driver. Can’t he drive himself?”
“It’s more of a favor, I think. See, my dad saved Enzo’s father’s life back in Chicago. He drove a taxi and was waiting for a fare when someone shot at Arturo as he came out of a restaurant. My dad threw him into the cab and drove him to safety, catching a bullet in his thigh for his trouble. That leg still bothers him.”
“So, the Sylvestris owe your father.”
She stopped working and turned to him. “They’re grateful, sure, but it’s more about how close our families are.”
This was worse than he thought. Chloe couldn’t be so naive she didn’t realize the Sylvestris were a crime family, could she? Or had she closed her eyes to it? Either way, he was disappointed in her.
Chloe flipped the waffle expertly onto a plate, then swung over to the oven to pull out the egg dish. “Let’s eat,” she said, smiling at him.
They sat at the table across from each other. The plant blocked his view of her, so he shifted it to the floor.
“This looks great,” he said, looking down at his plate.
“Dig in.” Chloe waited for him to cut into the waffle and put it in his mouth.
The bite melted on his tongue like cinnamon-flavored butter. “God,” was all he could say, going for more.
She grinned. “Now the eggs.” She leaned in, waiting.
He sampled the dish. “Incredible. See for yourself.”
As she tasted, she analyzed improvements—more oil, less cream, fewer scallions, homemade preserves and a dab of crème fraîche for the waffles.
As she talked, he watched the gleam of butter on her lips, caught glimpses of her tongue until he wanted to take her mouth. He pictured her last night, her hair wild, her body perfect, moving in complete sync with him. Control yourself.
Idle’s snuffle thankfully distracted him. The dog was nosing into the plant, so he carried it to the living room.
Back at the table, he kept eating. Every time he got the urge to kiss Chloe, he took another bite. Before long he was working on thirds.
“You really like it, huh?” Chloe asked, resting her chin in her palm, watching him as if this were her greatest pleasure.
“Mmm-hmm,” he said, swallowing.
“Did you always want to be a cop?”
“I guess,” he said, caught off guard by the new topic. “My dad was one.” He pushed away from the table, way too full. He’d be in the gym all night working this off.
“Did he retire?”
“Killed in the line of duty when I was twelve.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.” She grabbed her heart, like the tragedy had struck someone she loved.
“That