Seducing the Playboy (A Hot Nights Series Book) (Entangled Brazen) (5 page)

A timer went off, breaking into his fantasy, and he remembered Cole’s text. Had Jenna really had a crush on him? If so, it put a new spin on what had happened last night, but not on what was going to happen in the future. He was certainly capable of keeping his pants
on
and his hands
off
his employees.

He gave her a curt nod as he stepped onto the line. “You’re hired.”

…

Jenna’s heart pounded as she dragged the spoon back and forth across the bottom of the saucepot. The steamy look from Roman had turned her knees to jelly, and the two words he’d just spoken had done the same thing to her brain. Luckily, she didn’t have to think to cook.

“Hot, coming through,” she warned, giving the vanilla bean crème anglaise a final stir and wrapping a towel around the handle of the pot. She picked it up and poured the sauce through a strainer into a bain-marie. Then she tucked it into the waiting ice bath and gave Roman a tentative smile. “I was hoping you’d say that, so I got a jump on the desserts for tonight. Your cookies have an unusual texture, but they’ll be delicious in ice cream. Want some when it’s done?”

He scowled at her. “No, thanks.” He stalked over to the salad station to stare at a menu taped on the wall. T-Bird stepped to the side to make room for him, head bobbing in time to the music pouring out of his earbuds as he peeled potatoes.

Jenna was thrilled he’d changed his mind, but what had killed his mood so suddenly? Max caught her eye and winked, then shot Roman a sly look. “Nice picture on the beach last night, you two.”

“What picture?” she asked.

“You didn’t see it? You’re even on TMZ.” Max pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped the screen. Jenna glanced down and gasped. The shot was small and grainy, but it was clearly her—big hair, big boobs, and teeny bikini bottom—on Hollywood’s most popular gossip site.

“Fabulous,” she said faintly.

Roman glowered at them. “At least your face isn’t visible, and they didn’t print your name.”

“You’ve seen this?”

“Just now when my mother read me the riot act.”

That explained the mood swing. “It’s hardly the first time your picture has been splashed across the Internet, party boy. I would have thought you’d be grinning ear to ear. Isn’t publicity a good thing? All press is good press?”

“Not when she’s trying to convince a conservative billionaire to back her last big project. I’ve been stashed at the beach until she convinces him my lurid reputation won’t jeopardize his investment. Apparently, that picture has caused her a significant setback.” He sighed. “There’s no help for it now, but she also informed me there’s been a change in plans for the charity dinner we’re doing in Las Vegas next week. I have a chance to redeem myself.”

Max had returned his phone to his pocket and begun chopping onions. Now he looked up, raising his eyebrows in a silent question.

“We’re doing the
dessert
.” Roman said the last word like it was a curse.

Max burst out laughing. “No wonder you hired Jenna. Otherwise, we’d be screwed.”

Roman flipped him the bird. Then he ripped the menu off the wall and stalked off the line.

Jenna stared after him.

“Be careful what you wish for, huh?” Max went back to chopping onions. “That charity event is going to be an ass-kicker. At ten thousand bucks a table, they’re going to expect a stripper to pop out of a cake…or at the very least a happy ending. Are you sorry you signed on now?”

“I’m not sure yet.” Last night she’d convinced herself she could focus on Cooper’s and forget about her crush on Roman, but that was proving impossible today. Every time she looked at him, her pulse jumped. In her fantasies, Roman was amazing, but her imagination had not done his make-out skills justice. Even though she kept reminding herself of how the evening had ended, memories of his kisses and the way his hands had set her on fire kept running through her mind. It wasn’t fair she’d spent ten minutes kissing him and a dozen hours trying to forget the experience.

Clearly, he was still furious with her, and the look that had turned her to jelly a few minutes ago probably hadn’t been the good kind of steamy at all. She carried her dirty dishes into the dish room, wishing Lila and Betsy hadn’t been too busy for their usual Sunday conference call this morning. She could have used some bolstering.

Gathering a stack of clean bowls and more butter, she returned to the line. Max was so right.
Be careful what you wish for.
She had what she wanted—he’d hired her. But every moment working for Roman was going to be torture if she couldn’t tease him, touch him, and laugh with him.

Max shot her a sideways look. “Speaking of happy endings, I saw you two sneaking down the beach last night. I guess Roman got over his big brother complex pretty fast.”

“Not even close.” She felt her cheeks heat, even though she was used to small talk in kitchens centering on food and sex. Did she have
Hot for Roman
emblazoned on her forehead?

Max patted his pocket. “Maybe I need to take another look at that picture. There was something very…
telling
about his profile.”

She glanced up and saw mischief in his eyes, but also kindness. Max had been her champion when she’d first arrived in the kitchen. Maybe he could help her put it in perspective. “I gave it my best shot,” she admitted. “He said no.”

Max scoffed. “Roman doesn’t say no.”

“Marvelous.” She concentrated on cutting butter into half-inch cubes. “I must be really special.”

“No kidding.” His voice was thoughtful.

“You heard him yesterday—he thinks of me as Cole’s little sister.”

Max swept the onions into a six-pan and walked over to stand beside her. He put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “See? This is brotherly.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pointed at the picture. “Trust me, that’s not brotherly. He likes you.”

She scowled up at him. “You’re not helping me come to terms with rejection.”

He gave her another squeeze. “You don’t strike me as a quitter.”

The deliberate sound of a throat clearing drew her gaze to the other side of the line. “If you two are finished hugging, I need to see Jenna in the office to fill out paperwork.” Roman’s voice was clipped and his gaze was cold.

“Sure.” She tried to shrug out from beneath Max’s arm, but he held her clamped to his side until Roman turned on his heel and headed down the hall, spine straight as an arrow.

“Thanks a lot,” she said.

“Just making my point. Did you see the look on his face? Totally jealous—not brotherly.” He gave her braid a playful tug before he returned to his station.

“Why are you so interested in Roman’s love life anyway? You looked like you had plenty to keep you busy in the ocean last night.”

Max’s gray eyes lost their gleam. For a moment, she thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he shrugged. “If Roman can find someone special, maybe there’s hope for the rest of us.” He blinked and the mischief was back. “Or maybe I just want to see the West Coast playboy go down for the count so I can take his place.”

She didn’t believe him for a minute.

Jenna left the line and walked down the hall, feeling like a fog was lifting. She’d spent most of the night tossing and turning, doubting herself and feeling like an idiot for even thinking he would want her. She had too much at stake to risk screwing up again, but…

What if Max was right? What if Roman wanted her and was just being stubborn? Her footsteps slowed and she leaned against the wall as her thoughts drifted to her favorite memory.

It had snowed the second Christmas Roman spent with her family, and for once the guys didn’t shut her out of the fun. They bundled up and stomped out to the hill behind the house and spent one of the best hours of her life taking turns sliding down the hill on an old yellow sled.

Eventually, they started going down in pairs. When Roman climbed on the sled behind her, she didn’t feel the cold at all. His legs straddled hers, and his arms were wrapped tightly around her waist. As they scooted forward, inching the sled toward the hill, she was in heaven. The ride down the hill wasn’t half as exciting as being held by Roman, especially when they hit a bump in the ice near the bottom of the hill, and they went flying through the air. She landed under him, laughing. He had a snowflake caught in his eyelashes, and she reached up with her glove to touch it. He must have thought she was going to rub snow in his face, because he pinned her arms above her head, and crushed her into the snow. As soon as his weight came down on her, she froze, staring up at him.

It had just begun to get dark, but his eyes were bright, hot. His breath smelled faintly of purloined bourbon. Her pulse hammered. She looked at his lips, waiting, hoping. Did he know how badly she wanted him to kiss her? His breath warmed her lips, and she closed her eyes in anticipation.

Then Cole, already at the bottom of the hill, had pelted Roman with a snowball, and Roman had rolled away from her as if trying to escape flames, not snow. He’d fired a rapid flurry of snowballs back at Cole, and the fight was on, the moment lost.

She’d always wondered what might have happened if Cole hadn’t thrown that snowball. Was there any chance she could find out now? Even if Roman had only been trying to force a confession out of her last night, the chemistry between them was too potent to be entirely one-sided. Why couldn’t they just have sex? She’d had a crush on him for what felt like forever, and it would be her chance to get him out of her system once and for all. Obviously he wasn’t going to settle down. That was too much to hope for from a player like him, but there was no reason they couldn’t explore the attraction between them before she went back home.

She thought of how he’d felt throbbing against her last night, and heat filled her breasts, belly, and hips. He’d been teasing her, but he’d wanted her, too. She wasn’t giving up until he admitted it.

She pushed away from the wall, sailed through the office door, and locked it behind her. Roman looked up from his seat at the desk, startled. “Paperwork doesn’t require a locked door.”

“Enough bullshit, Roman.” She closed the distance between them and laid a hand on his shoulder. Her heart pounded so hard, she wondered if he could feel it through her palm, but she wasn’t going to chicken out now. She’d been honest with him last night, and he had agreed to help her. She’d been honest with him today, and he had agreed to hire her.
Third time’s a charm?

She smiled and dropped into his lap.

Chapter Four

Roman instinctively caught her. Then he forced his hands back to his sides. “There’s a perfectly good chair by the door.”

“I’m trying to make a point.” She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, and her soft breasts pressed against his chest.

He shifted, hoping she couldn’t feel the effect she had on him. The desire to grab her hips and grind against her was overwhelming. “Are you going to make me dump you off my lap?” he bluffed.

“Are you going to pretend you aren’t enjoying this?” she shot back.

The first blush of his life heated his cheeks. He spoke through gritted teeth. “Merely an involuntary reaction to a beautiful woman.”

“Careful, Roman. That sounded like a compliment.” She shifted position again, using his shoulders for balance. He flinched as the muscles spasmed, sending a bolt of pain up his neck.

“What’s wrong with you? And don’t tell me nothing this time,” she said.

“I fell asleep on the couch last night. My neck is killing me.” Maybe now she’d take pity on him and get off his lap. He repressed the flash of disappointment he felt when she slid out of his lap and stood behind his chair.

“Poor baby. I’ve heard getting old sucks.”

“Brat.”

She laid her hand on the back of his neck and squeezed, making him gasp. Her grip tightened. “Which side hurts?”

“The left,” he said reluctantly.

She pressed her thumb into his left shoulder and he sagged in relief. As she dug deep into the knots that braided his muscles, the agony was exquisite. He knew he should stop her, but it felt so good, he couldn’t bring himself to do it, especially when her hands heated up, further easing his pain.

“Thanks,” he murmured, when he could take a deep breath and feel only a slight twinge of discomfort.

“You’re welcome.” She slid her hands down his chest and rested her chin lightly on his shoulder.

He inhaled, savoring her sweet scent. He knew he should say something to create distance between them, but it was such a comfortable silence he hated to break it. Her embrace made no demands on him. He was warm and content, feelings he usually didn’t associate with a woman. But Jenna had always been special—which made it even more disturbing she’d tried to play him. He tensed, remembering how tantalizing she’d looked last night. Desire surged through him again, and he leaned forward, breaking her grip. The back rub ploy was the oldest trick in the book. What was she softening him up for now?

On cue she slid back into his lap. “I have a confession to make.”

“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
Here it comes.
If he had any sense at all, he’d leave now, but he felt paralyzed by the heat of her body and the press of her soft curves.

“Probably not.” She snuggled closer, tucking her face beneath his chin. Her breath feathered his neck as she chuckled, giving him goose bumps and making him even more aware of all the places their bodies touched.

He put his arms around her, intending to push her away but pulled her tighter against him. She stopped laughing. Her head tilted back, and her gaze met his, full of everything he was trying to hide—arousal, affection, and recklessness. She reached up to stroke his cheek, and he held his breath.

“If I’m honest with you, do you promise to be honest with me?” she asked.

He nodded, lying.

“I don’t believe you.” She swung her legs around to straddle him in the chair. “But I know how to tell if you’re lying.” He sucked air into his lungs, feeling dizzy as the blood trying to make its way to his brain rushed to his cock. A small smile flirted with the corners of her mouth as he pulsed against her, the thin material of his cotton chef pants hiding nothing. “You don’t think of me as a little sister, Roman. Admit it.”

He shook his head, but his hands tightened on her waist. She was right. He couldn’t be in the same room with her without wanting her, and when she touched him, the desire to get them both naked trumped everything else.

Her hands tangled in his hair, and she leaned forward to put her mouth near his ear. Her breath tickled his ear as she whispered, “I’ve always had a huge crush on you. I’ve been waiting for years for you to come back to New Jersey so I could see you, but you never did.” Her hips rocked against his, driving the words home.

So it was true.
She had a crush on him. He groaned and grasped her waist, stopping the motion of her hips. “Don’t do this.”

“I knew you’d say that.” She smiled into his eyes. “Stop insulting my intelligence by pretending you’re not attracted to me.”

The heat of their skin scented the air with arousal. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Their bodies were as close as they could get while clothed, and every beat of his heart betrayed him, bringing them closer together. No, he couldn’t deny he wanted her. “It isn’t that simple. If you get off my lap so I can think straight, I’ll tell you why.”

Instead, she kissed him.

Her lips brushed his in a sweet invitation. Her tongue teased the curve of his upper lip, a sensual caress he longed to deepen. Her eyes were open and holding so much desire, he had to close his, but that made it worse. In the dark, his lust was overpowering, a dark undertow that swept him out to sea. “You are not my kind of girl,” he mumbled against her lips as he thrust his hands under her shirt.

“Clearly.” Her breathless chuckle mocked him. She pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it on the floor. Underneath, she was wearing a sheer red bra.

He groaned. “I’m having a hard time holding on to my good-girl image of you when you keep showing up in hot lingerie.”

She nipped his lip. “Good girl? When did you get that impression? Six years ago? We’re in the same profession, Ro, and it’s not exactly conducive to chastity. It’s impossible to have a real relationship when you work every night, but who doesn’t like sex?” She unbuttoned his chef coat and pushed it off his shoulders.

“It’s not impossible to have a relationship.”
Not for someone like her, at least.
“Your brother got married two years ago, and your parents have been married over thirty years,” he countered, keeping his arms bent so she couldn’t get his jacket off.

Her hands stroked his chest. “Cole sold out. He’s not cooking anymore. He’s in management. And my mother worked her ass off to keep our family together. You never heard the fights they had when Dad missed dinner. He felt like he should be at Cooper’s every minute, but Mom insisted the sous-chef could run the line for an hour while Dad spent time with his kids. She said that was the advantage of also owning the business.”

“So why don’t you want to follow in their footsteps? Don’t you want a family?” He leaned back in the chair, looking up at her. He’d always imagined she’d grow up and be just like her mother, wrangling a work-obsessed husband and a couple of mischievous kids, insisting they show up at the dinner table or else. The thought made him smile.

“Eventually, but I don’t plan on settling down anytime soon and certainly not with a working chef. I’ll need somebody who will do what my mother did, cook dinner and hold the fort. No offense, but if you’re worried I want you to come back to New Jersey and live happily ever after with me, you can relax. I know how you operate. Short-term only. No-strings sex. Quick and dirty. I totally get it.” She pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. “But we’re friends, right?”

He nodded, unable to resist putting his hands on her hips again. She shifted against him, and he sucked in a hard breath.

“Let’s be friends with benefits while I’m here. I’ll make great desserts and use your hot body to get over my crush; you teach me how to save Cooper’s. When it’s time to go home, we part friends. No harm, no foul, just great memories.”

Why did she sound so sensible? The odd sinking sensation in his chest felt like disappointment, but that was silly. She was right. He was a short-term kind of guy. It wasn’t fair to get involved when he worked all the time, but that didn’t mean it was okay to get involved with Jenna.

She raised her head. “Next objection?”

That was easy. “Cole.” Her brother would make stock from his bones if he found out about anything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

“My sex life is none of his business. Or anybody else’s, before you mention my parents.”

She continued to explore his chest and shoulders, thumbs caressing his nipples through his T-shirt. His chest tightened, skin tingling. “I owe your family a lot. I don’t want them mad at me.”

“I promise not to tell them.” Her grin was full of irrepressible mischief that spoke to him on his deepest level. She was preaching to the choir, just not when it came to her. At least, not to the woman he had believed her to be. “Think of it as doing me a favor. Once I get you out of my system, I’ll be able to go out and find my dream man with a clear conscience.”

He scrambled to remember his other excellent reasons for saying no and almost groaned with relief when one came to him. “I don’t have sex with my employees.”

“Don’t hire me, then.” She giggled. “I’ll help with your new menus, train Max to do the simpler desserts while you’re looking for someone long term, and work on the Vegas event. You give me a plan for Cooper’s, and I’ll be out of your hair in a couple of weeks.” He would be gone, too. Once the Beach House menu was set and the profits were firmly in the black, he’d turn it over to Max. So why did the thought of her leaving so soon bother him?

“After all, we’re just old friends hanging out together. Nobody is going to pay attention,” she coaxed, nibbling on his neck. “We’ll spend most of our time working. It will look perfectly normal. No one will notice.”

She made it sound so simple. It would be easy to give her what she wanted, especially since he wanted it, too. He’d never felt anything as strong as the crushing need hammering at his balls right now. He wanted to believe her more than he wanted to breathe, to eat, or even to take over Gallagher Holdings.
But this is Jenna.
Despite her bold words and actions, he just couldn’t think of her in terms of no-strings sex. Hadn’t she just admitted to having a crush on him? Crushes weren’t made of quick and dirty; they were made of romance and fantasies. What would she do if he called her bluff?

He knew what she would do if he kept saying no—she’d never quit. She was too used to getting her own way, and there was no doubt in his mind they’d find themselves in this exact situation as soon as she regrouped. How long would he be able to resist? Whether he liked it or not, things had changed between them. But as much as his body was screaming for relief, jumping straight into bed with her felt wrong. Jenna wasn’t a random hookup.

Her lips brushed his ear and coasted over his cheek. By the time she reached his mouth, he had an idea. She wanted to play games? Fine, but they were going to play by his rules. Maybe he couldn’t ignore the chemistry between them, but he could damn well take charge of it. Until he was certain she wanted more than a few kisses to satisfy her teenage fantasies, he wasn’t going to do anything except give her a good long time to think about her choices.

Playing games was his forte. He’d hold her hand and kiss her senseless, but that was it. He wasn’t going to jeopardize his relationship with her or her family because she’d gotten it into her head she wanted to sleep with him. After they spent some time together, she’d come to her senses and realize he was nothing like the fantasy guy she’d built him up to be.

He lifted her out of his lap and stood, pressing her against the door. With one hand, he caught her hair and tugged, pulling her head back. When her astonished gaze snapped to his, he bent to capture her lips, and her mouth opened in surprise. He plunged inside, taking possession of her in the way he had been dying to, honestly, no-holds-barred, proving he wanted her as much as she wanted him. It was ridiculous to pretend otherwise when he was hard as a rock.

He raised his head. “Let me get this straight. You want to have sex with me to get me out of your system? So you can go off and marry some guy to be your househusband without regrets, right?”

Her head fell back. “Stop torturing me, Roman.”

“I accept.” He stepped back, grinning. “But I have one condition.”

…

Anything
was the first thing that popped into her head. That kiss had been every hot Hollywood clinch rolled into one mind-melting, thigh-shaking, panty-soaking miracle. And the smile on his face was fantasy-worthy, the stuff of wicked and wild dreams. Her heart pounded as he took her hand and caressed her fingers, bringing them up to his lips. His tongue tickled a sensitive spot in between her knuckles and a flash of heat shot through her. “What’s the catch?”

“We go at my pace.”

Unease stole through her. “You’ll have to forgive my confusion. I thought you were a player, but I keep striking out. What
is
your pace?”

“You asked me to be honest with you…so here goes.” His eyes darkened to cobalt. “I want you. Everything about you makes me crazy, your curls, your curves, your delicious desserts, even your inability to take no for an answer works for me on every level. You are impossible to resist, and I’m not going to pretend like I want to anymore. But I’m not convinced sex is what you want from me.”

She looked at his sun-streaked mop of golden hair. His sensuous lips and his fierce blue eyes. She took in the breadth of his shoulders and chest. His lean hips, strong thighs. “I’m pretty sure it is,” she said slowly.

“You have a crush on me.”

He made it a statement, not a question, but she nodded her head anyway. “Which is why I’m pretty sure—”

“Shh.” He touched a finger to her lips and it burned. “Crushes are made of fantasy and romance, not getting naked and going at it.”

She wanted to be offended by his summation of her emotional immaturity, but there was understanding and tenderness in his eyes, and this time it didn’t irritate her. “I’m not sixteen anymore, Ro. I want more.”

“You’ll get it. The full Roman Gallagher, playboy-of-the-West-Coast experience, I promise.” She cocked her head to the side at the self-deprecation in his tone, unable to read his expression.