Feel the Heat (Hot In the Kitchen) (39 page)

Lili’s heart thumped a rabbit’s beat in her chest. Holding her breath, she spoke over Shona’s shoulder to the one person who needed to hear this.

“Jack is the smartest, funniest, most challenging and demanding guy I know. From the moment we met, he supported and pushed me to be better, and then he risked everything to defend me. I didn’t think I had the
coglioni
to deserve someone as awesome as him. I’m still not sure I do, but I need him to know that he rocks my world and I love him.”

Jack’s broad shoulders lifted on an inhale. Shona’s mouth dropped open. A collective sigh of relief swished through the room.

“Well.” Shona fanned herself with the microphone before realizing it needed to be stationary to pick up the audio properly. “I think after tonight, he’ll definitely know.”

“Not sure I can wait that long, Shona.” Lili sidestepped her and stole her way to the bar, dimly aware of a platoon of indulgent DeLuca smiles flanking her journey. Others, too, but the gauntlet was a blur, like a Vaseline-edged lens with a single point of clarity in the viewfinder.

Jack.

It took forever to get there and he made no effort to meet her halfway. That was okay because she owed him the trip. Behind her, she heard Burt Reynolds shuffling into position at Shona’s blatant urging.

On reaching Jack, he turned in his seat to face her with legs apart, almost in invitation, his gaze viciously hot. Just like the man. Only sheer willpower prevented her from slotting in between those mouthwatering thighs and snaking her arms around his strong body.

“You get all that?” she pushed past a lump the size of a ham hock wedged in her throat.

He paused long enough to irritate. “Well, I’ve never been known for my brains.” His voice rumbled too low to be picked up by Shona’s microphone or the easily scandalized ears of her older relatives. “Are you telling me you love me so I’ll sleep with you?”

She gave a half-shrug. “Thought crossed my mind. Would it work?”

“Maybe. I’m sort of superficial that way.”

She moved as close as she could without touching him. Not yet.
Please, soon.
“You going to make me beg?”

He shook his head, but with it he gifted her a contrary smile, one of those smiles that lit him from within and coated all her nerve endings. She couldn’t think or speak, but that didn’t matter. All she had to do was rip a leaf from the Book of Jack and take.

She took what belonged to her, moving her mouth softly over his until the hunger overtook them both and their cores imprinted on each other. She fit just right, but then it had always been that way. Her body registered a throaty Jack sound and her ears registered the cheers and if her eyes had been open, she would have been rolling them because it was just so cheesy and gosh-darn-romantic.

“You never had to beg, sweetheart,” he murmured against her lips. “I was yours from the start.”

Somewhere deep inside, that knowledge had resided and of course she hadn’t trusted it. It wasn’t every day a commoner receives the favor of royalty. Tears stung the backs of her eyelids and she didn’t even have a Jack-made orgasm to blame. At least, not yet.

“I always suspected brain damage,” she rasped while the tears made good on their threat and rolled down her cheeks.

He shaped her jaw, stretching his thumbs to catch her saltwater leak. “Sure, how else could you land a catch like me?”

“Arrogant, conceited, impossible”—
Gorgeous, perfect, my
—“man.”

His hands fanned her hips, levering her body flush, though it wasn’t really possible to get any closer. Not all that advisable either, judging by how his hardness was making her damp, and she was about to burst into an inferno. She so wanted him to cup her, to squeeze her booty and worship it like he used to in private, but he kept it clean. When it came to lewd groping in public, he’d always been the one with more self-control.

She couldn’t move, and not just because his thighs had scissored her in their muscular grip, but she thought that maybe she could live here for a while. Safe in the cradle of Jack’s body. Great for her work commute, too.

Seemed he had other ideas. He could be so difficult.

“That little performance of yours was enough to get you to first base, but I’m going to need a lot more before I let you slide home.” Slipping off the stool, he enfolded her hand in his warm, male grip. “Let’s go, Lili.”

He led her through the crowd, holding tight while people alternated between slapping him on the back and clasping her arm affectionately. Her mother beamed, Gina’s eyes looked suspiciously shiny, and Cara gave her a dirty wink.

Then they ran into Obstacle Number One. Her father.

Tilting his head, Tony considered her for a heartbeat before kissing her on the forehead.
“Mi mancherai tantissimo, Liliana.”

A too-full feeling ruled her chest and she nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She would miss him, too.

Her father turned to Jack, but before he could say a word, Jack squeezed her hand. “Lili, could you give your father and me a minute alone?”

“Sure,” she murmured, taking a couple of surprised steps back.

Jack leaned into her father and spoke in too low a voice for Lili to hear. And she tried, she really did.

“Nice to see you finally taking my advice,” Tad whispered in her ear. “Though I wonder how Jack would feel if he knew the real reason you made a play for him. That all you wanted was a ride on the chopper. Tsk, tsk.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said nervously as she watched Jack and her father finish up and exchange what looked like bone-crushing handshakes. It must be about the cookbook. Let the fun times begin.

“Any time you want to ride the hog, babe, it’s yours.” Tad kissed her on the temple. “I think you earned it.”

“Oh…” But that thought would have to wait because she was on the road again with her own personal thrill ride, Jack dragging her toward the back office…no, the restroom…oh, the kitchen. A mercifully empty kitchen, now that service was over and the crew was out celebrating with the revelers. Finally alone with him, butterflies collided in her stomach and she felt ten times more nervous than she had in front of the news camera and the entire restaurant of customers.

“What’s going on with my dad?” she asked, stalling.

His smile was a warm secret. “Just very important chef stuff. Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.”

“Jack!” Why, that arrogant…At his sly grin, it dawned on her that he was trying to get her riled up to move her into communication mode. Clever, clever.

Her heart zigzagged in her chest and she rubbed her collarbone, seeking calm. “I’m no good at this. I’m Italian and I know I should be better at all this emotional stuff, but we’ve never really been like that in our family. So, I’m sorry if I get it all wrong, but I’ll try not to make any jokes.”

He bestowed on her an encouraging smile. “You’re doing fine.”

She ran her fingers along the nearest scratched up stainless-steel countertop.

“Lili,” he said, not ungently.

She swallowed past the lump of emotion. “I used to be fat and I used to be scared. Then I was no longer fat, but the fear stayed. Yeah, I took edgy photos and attacked would-be burglars dressed as Wonder Woman and made shocking passes at TV idols in bars, but I was determined not to allow any of those dalliances out of my comfort zone change who I truly was. Lili DeLuca, stoic restaurant manager, martyr daughter, all around chicken. I was all those things and I had every intention of staying that way.”

“Ah, sweetheart.”

She shot him her most condemning look. “Don’t interrupt. You wanted this, so you’re going to damn well listen. Besides, you’ll like the next part. It’s all about you.”

He raised his hands. “Please. Continue.”

“Then you came into my life. Well, the coming part took a frustratingly long time because first you had to needle and get under my skin and tell me I had potential and could do anything. That was pretty overwhelming for me. To have someone as amazing as you care about me that much—” She flapped cool air at her face, hating herself for acting like such a girly-girl and loving how the weight she’d carried for so long seemed to lift with every word. “I wasn’t sure it was real. I wasn’t sure you were real because let’s face it, you’re the fantasy. So yes, I panicked because that’s a hell of a lot easier than trusting my heart to what might be a figment of my imagination.”

“But I’m very real.” His voice was heartbreakingly compassionate.

Yes, he was. He was flesh and blood and fantasy, all rolled into the sexiest, most awesome package of male she had ever seen. No wonder she was confused.

“I’m sorry I didn’t trust us, but mostly I’m sorry I didn’t trust myself. I’m just getting used to being a superhero, you know.”

He kissed her, slow and sensual and so, so hot. “All right, that wasn’t half bad. There’s hope for you yet. Think we can move to second base now.” Sliding his hands up along her ribs, he thumbed her already-primed nipples. Bones and other important body parts went with the flow and liquefied in pure pleasure.

“Lili, I walked in here tonight expecting nothing, and I got everything I needed. Seeing your art and all the changes, I’m so proud of you. And then to put yourself out there on camera. Woman, you’ve got balls.”

“Yes, but I needed a push, someone who saw me. Really saw me. It’s scary when someone can read you that well, can understand what you need better than you do yourself.” She gulped. “I applied to graduate school.”

His thumbs stopped that lovely plucking at her breasts. Damn, she needed to time these revelations better.

“Atta girl.”

“And I sold a picture.”

His eyes went as wide as charger plates. “Which one?”

“Sadie Number Three.” When his brow furrowed, she translated, “Rock Chick Red. For twelve hundred dollars.” Her hand flew to her mouth, still not quite believing
that
had happened.

“One of my favorites. Sounds like some perv got a bargain.”

She socked him in the chest. His rock-hard, wonderfully touchable…
Focus, girl.
She placed her hands flat on that same chest, like she meant business. “I’m still worried about something.”

“What’s that, sweetheart?” He lay molten kisses along her jaw, getting a head start on smoothing away the worry.

“That hot head of yours. I don’t want you going off when someone says something. You can’t. Not with all you could lose.”

“Well, that’s no longer a concern. You’re looking at the guy who will
not
be the next big thing in daytime TV.”

She knew her features must have shuttered to blank because her brain had ground to a halt and he was looking at her strangely.

“I’m not signing with the network,” he explained. “And I’m not renewing with the Cooking Channel, either.”

This time, when she thumped his chest, sexy muscles were the last things on her mind. Lightning fast, he covered her body with his and caged her with his palms to the refrigerator door. Lord, she had the reflexes of a two-toed sloth.

“Before you call me an idiot, hear me out.”

“Okay,” she muttered mutinously, like she had a choice with all his hard parts clicking like LEGO into her soft parts.

“I want my life back. I want to wake up on lazy Sunday mornings, screw you breathless, then think about which of the farmers’ market ingredients will make the best special at the restaurant that night. I want to cook for people instead of viewer demographics. I want to be the best brother to Jules and the best uncle to her kidlet. I want my own kids to value family and food and know they are loved to an embarrassing degree. And I want them to stay virgins as long as possible, and frankly, that can only happen if we’re sitting down at the dinner table and talking like real families do.” He put a finger to her lips because she must have opened her mouth to interrupt. “I know you’re concerned about keeping all this culinary genius and sex appeal under wraps, but I can still spread the Kilroy gospel with books and Web videos. Or something.” He punctuated his speech with a brazen grin.

“World domination ten minutes at a time?” she asked when really she wanted to say,
Kids, Jack? You’re already talking about kids!
Unavoidable images of emerald-eyed, dark-headed tykes tugged at her ovaries, though she suspected a lot of teenage angst might be avoided if the girls inherited Jack’s lustrous locks instead of her obdurate mop.

“I’ll still have businesses,” he said. “I’ll have to travel, but not as much. My life will be with you, wherever you want that to be. Here. New York. Anywhere.”

“You’d move here?”

Cue another heart-fracturing smile. “As long as I have a sharp knife, a place to chop, and my woman, I can live anywhere. Turns out Laurent has been filing away the significant coin I pay him in some nefarious plan to usurp my throne, so I’m selling him a half-share of New York and making him executive chef. I could work there but I’m not very good at taking orders.” He brushed away the hair that had fallen over her eyes. “I know you have your heart set on Parsons…”

“The School of the Art Institute is also on my list.”

His eyes sparkled. “Interesting. You might not have heard, but I’m planning to open a restaurant in Chi-Town. And my sister seems to like it here.”

Or rather she liked a particular person here. Rather than let Jack’s boxer briefs get in a twist about the threat her man-slut cousin presented to Jules, she focused on the positives. “She’ll never want for a babysitter.”