Page 6 of Recipe for Love (The Andrades 0.5)
Maddy almost laughed, until she realized he wasn’t kidding. “No, but I needed to find someplace where I could think.”
“And you thought you could do that here?”
She raised her chin defiantly. “You were supposed to be short and fat.”
A corner of his mouth lifted, as if her comment amused him despite his annoyance. As he continued to look at her, his expression changed, and with unexpected compassion he asked, “Did someone hurt you?”
The question threw her. They had, but not in the way she knew he thought. It was too complicated, and the details could potentially hurt her family if they went public, so she merely shook her head.
He didn’t believe her. He rubbed a hand roughly over his face as if trying to clear his thoughts. “You don’t have to lie to me. You’re safe here.”
“Am I?” she asked hoarsely. They both knew what she was asking.
With his features set in harsh, cold lines, he said, “It was a kiss. People do more on the dance floor after a few drinks.”
Where do you dance? Maddy thought as a gurgle of nervous laughter bubbled in her throat. “I should probably still go.”
“I told you you’re safe here. Nothing further is going to happen between us.”
“Because I’m a virgin?”
He growled something in French beneath his breath. “Oui, and too young for me.”
Let it go, the voice of reason in her pleaded, but she couldn’t. “You’re not much older than I am.”
“In years, perhaps not. In experience, we couldn’t be more different. Sex to me is like a good meal, pleasant but not necessarily best always served from the same cook. Could you handle that?”
“No.”
“That, ma puce, is why you are perfectly safe here tonight.” He turned and headed toward the door of the suite.
Maddy doubted that, after he’d walked out, she’d ever see him again. Despite their verbal clashes, the thought made her a bit sad. What do you say to someone who just made a decision you should have—one you would have if you weren’t so angry with the world that a dose of danger felt good? “Richard,” she called out to him softly, and he stopped. “Thank you.”
He turned slowly and leaned against the doorjamb, watching her cautiously, “It’s not a problem.” Then he smiled a bit playfully and, in a beautifully sexy French drawl, said, “Well, it was less a problem before I saw those beautiful breasts of yours. But it’s nothing a cold shower won’t fix.”
The connection they’d felt earlier deepened when she smiled at his joke and he smiled back. There was more intimacy in that moment than there’d been in kissing and ripping at each other’s clothing. It shook Maddy. She didn’t want him to leave, but she wasn’t brave enough to ask him to stay. “I should have been honest with your sister. I’m here because I quarreled with my father. Have you ever been put in a situation where you have to do something, but no matter what you do, you know nothing will ever be the same?”
His expression darkened with the pain of some memory. “Oui.”
“What did you do?” she asked in a hushed tone.
“What I had to, and then I walked away.”
“I don’t think I can do that.”
The sincerity in her voice seemed to touch a cord in him. He straightened from the wall and said, “It looks like you already did.”
“I’m so confused,” she admitted hoarsely.
He closed the distance between them and kissed her gently on one cheek. “You and I both, ma puce, I will not sleep easily tonight.”
He spun and left with the cat following at his heels.
Maddy groaned and, picking up her tablet, walked alone into the guest bedroom. She slid under the covers of the bed, still clutching the device, which she didn’t turn on. I doubt there is a book on there that could make me forget that I almost gave my virginity to the first sexy Frenchman I met, only to be refused like I’d offered him a case of the measles. She set the tablet on the night table, flipped the light off, and stared at the dark ceiling above. Is he lying in his bed imagining what it would have been like between us? Not that I want to be just another meal he enjoyed and then forgot. She closed her eyes and remembered how her body had responded to his touch. Her skin still tingled at the memory.
Sex is supposed mean something.
A hot night with a complete stranger would have been wrong.
She rolled onto her side and hugged one of the pillows to her chest.
Or it would have been heaven.
Chapter Three
Early the next evening, Richard paused from issuing orders to his kitchen staff to throw a sheet pan in the dish pit with enough force that the sound echoed throughout the room and caused a momentary halt in activity. With a glare, he set his workers back on task. They knew better than to joke with him when he was in a mood.
Yes, he held them to impossibly high standards, but he didn’t ask them to give any more than he gave of himself each day: everything.
He was an artist, not a cook. He fed people’s souls, the same way a painter or musician would. The world could survive without art or gourmet food, but who would want to live in such a world? He was driven to create dishes that would be remembered long after they were experienced. It was an obsession—until today.
The only thing worse than spending the day distracted by the thought of Madison in his house was the thought that she might no longer be there.
Memories of her tight body outlined by the light of a side lamp brought him to an uncomfortable level of arousal. And those eyes. Mon Dieu, those chocolate eyes—flashing with anger, melting with desire, while she offered herself to him.
An offer I turned down.
No matter how he tried, he couldn’t stop his thoughts from returning to his houseguest and their short encounter. He’d formed an opinion of her before they’d met and had been set to dislike her. Instead, he found himself fascinated, and not just sexually.
She was in his thoughts, his blood, an itch that could not be denied.
And all I did was kiss her.
I don’t even know her last name.
If she left, I’d never be able to find her.
That thought was enough to have him striding over to Bertrand. Even though the restaurant was closing early that day, he couldn’t wait a moment longer. “I’ll be at my house if you need me, but only call if you’ve lit the place on fire.”
His sous-chef was so surprised that he asked a question he already k
new the answer to. “Y-you’re leaving?”
Richard imagined Madison as he’d found her, lying on the couch, and hastily discarded his chef coat. Bertrand was perfectly capable of running the kitchen—even if it was the first time he’d been asked to do so. Richard had never been one to second-guess his decisions and was not about to start now. “I am.”
“Are you ill?” Bertrand asked with real concern.
“No. I have something at my house that requires my attention.”
Bertrand shook his head in confusion and said, “In all the years we’ve worked together, I’ve never seen you leave early. You don’t celebrate the holidays. Is it your sister? Is Alyson okay?”
“Everyone is fine,” Richard said impatiently. “I just have to go.”
Bertrand persisted, “You know, we’re business partners, but we’re also friends. If you need help, let me know.”
“I probably need psychiatric help, but tonight just worry about the restaurant.”
A slow, understanding smile spread across the older man’s face. “Only a woman could make a man that crazy.”
“Just close the restaurant tonight. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Or not,” Bertrand said happily. “Take your time. I’m perfectly capable of running this place without you for a few days.”
Richard opened his mouth to say he’d be back early in the morning as usual, but if everything worked out the way he wanted it to, he wasn’t sure he would be. So he kept his thoughts to himself and headed toward the door. Bertrand clapped his hands loudly and, in a tone much like Richard would have used, put the kitchen staff back on task.
Richard exceeded the speed limit on all the roads that separated him from the woman he couldn’t stop thinking about. On the way he rehearsed how he would tell Madison that he’d changed his stance on virginity.
***
Right, left, then another left after the farmhouse. Or was it left, right, then left at the farmhouse? Shit. Maddy stood at an intersection, wishing she’d paid more attention on the way into the small town near Richard’s house. Her arms were aching from the weight of the bags she’d filled with Christmas decorations.
