Page 14 of Elijah’s Whim

“You’re not—”

“Yes or no, beauty. Do. You. Understand?”

“This is not—”

His hungry and much-too-quick kiss stole my protesting words and every other remaining feeble comeback I had at the ready. His full lips felt as velvety as I’d imagined they would. Even though there was only the press of his lips to mine—no tongue, nibbles, sucking, buildup or cool down of any type—I was instantly breathless.

Holy shit. Elijah Banks was a dangerous man. Dangerous to my sanity, physical well-being, sexual stability, and everything else I could think of.

Finally, he released my hair but held firmly to each arm, just above my elbows. This time I was grateful for the bondage because my head was twirling with arousal and my sense of balance was completely thrown off.

“Now, what did you want to ask me?” he asked with that sexy grin.

After a steadying inhale, I stammered, “I…I have to go by my house to pick up some things. There’s no way I’ll get away without staying for dinner, maybe cards or board games. Just depends who’s around while I’m there.”

Elijah straightened my chef’s coat while he answered, “Then I’ll join you.”

“You weren’t invited.”

He tilted his head, and his freshly fucked–looking hair flopped to one side. How did he look so put together yet so sinfully disheveled?

“So we’re good?” I was gaining a bit of my spine back as I opened the door to go inside. I had to get my day started, and I had to put space between this man and me if that was ever going to happen.

“Thanks for understanding. Have a great day at work.” I gave him my fake competitive cheer smile. “Don’t wait up. Like I said, I might be home late. If at all.”

“Hannah. I’m warning you now.”

“You know what, Elijah?” I stepped inside the kitchen and surreptitiously engaged the lock so when the door closed, he wouldn’t be able to open it again. “I don’t really care. Buh-bye.” Then I closed the door in his ridiculously handsome face with a solid whump.

By the time Rio arrived about two hours later, I had made all the planned lunch menu items and my grandmother’s pie dough. Perfectly round balls were covered and chilling in the walk-in, awaiting their fate.

“What is all this?” she asked as she came out of the cooler and saw the inventory. “Someone was working off some steam. Who do I need to steer clear of?” She was grinning from ear to ear because only another chef would recognize that much dough for what it really was.

Working out one’s anger the old-fashioned way.

I gave a stilted wave, signaling that I was the guilty party. Although when it came to making pie crust from scratch, was anyone really guilty?

Rio shook her head slowly from side to side while chuckling. “I knew that bastard would be a nightmare to live with. I’m so sorry, honey.”

After giving me a longer survey, she asked quietly, “Do you need to talk? Outside? Or better yet, do I need to do the lunch deliveries for you today and serve him his balls instead of what he ordered?”

When I’d gotten dressed this morning, I planned for my turn at lunch deliveries by wearing my tennis shoes instead of my usual kitchen clogs. We rotated the chore through the staff so no one got burned out. But with all the drama that went on when I first arrived, I had forgotten what that meant.

I’d be seeing my sexy landlord sooner than I thought.

“Can you help me get some supplies out of my car?” Rio asked, her voice a bit louder than it had just been. Clearly this question was more for show for the other staff.

“Sure. Lead the way, boss.” I tried for my normally upbeat attitude instead of the sour one I’d been nursing so far. I was pretty sure the others had noticed I wasn’t myself, because everyone was giving me a pretty wide berth.

When we were far enough from the building, Rio asked, “What’s going on, my friend?”

“Not much. What’s up with you?” I tried to keep my smile as real as possible. Rio’s bullshit meter was a finely tuned piece of equipment, and I knew I wouldn’t get away with faking it.

“Cut the crap, Hannah. There’s enough pie crust dough in our walk-in to supply Julian at Thanksgiving. I know it’s that glowing-eyed motherfucker you’re bowing down to that’s the problem. Now out with it.”

“Nah, I can handle him.”

Rio stopped in her tracks and faced me. “Mama, I’m worried about you, and you aren’t making it easier by protecting him.”