Delicious (14 page)

He stabbed at the End button and shoved the phone back at Natalie. “Reggie should fire that asshole. He was way out of line.”

But Natalie suddenly felt like Gabe was right. “He takes his job seriously. Besides, I think he still has a thing for Reggie.” Like the rest of the world. Suddenly, Natalie felt excruciatingly sorry for herself.
Look at you,
she thought scornfully,
twenty-six years old and nothing but a glorified gopher living off your sister’s charity so you can pay rent on that rathole you call an apartment.
Maybe she should go home, grab a box of Krispy Kremes, and have herself a full-blown pity party.

Tyler came over to her side of the desk and squatted next to her chair. Handing her a tissue, he awkwardly patted her shoulder. Natalie turned to face him, knowing that her tear-ravaged face looked like the wrath of God. He, of course, looked perfect, the epitome of a Nordic god. This close she could see the tiny golden hairs sprouting on his chin where he’d missed a spot shaving. That tiny crack in his Ken-doll perfection was oddly comforting. His blue eyes, which never regarded her with more than casual friendliness, were deep and warm with what looked like real concern. “You’ve been doing a great job lately, so don’t let him upset you.”

Natalie sniffled, wishing with everything she was worth that she could lay her head on his big, cotton-clad shoulder. But he stood up and looked at his watch. “Speaking of which, I need to wrap this up.” He waggled his eyebrows mischievously. “I have a lunch date with that hot little lawyer who works across the street.”

For some reason she chose not to examine, that made her want to cry even harder.

If Gabe wanted the silent treatment, Reggie had no problem giving it to him. Bad enough that he’d refused her olive branch—the last she would ever offer, guaranteed—then he’d had the gall to insult her sister.

Before they went to the airport, they stopped at an Internet café so Reggie could check her e-mail and send off another round of notes to her editor. About halfway through the list of nearly fifty messages was one from “Your One and Only,” with the subject line: Black lace and cream.

Though the address was unfamiliar, she knew instantly who sent it. She called out to Gabe, who sat across the room from her at the only other available terminal.

“It’s from him,” she said, indicating the message with her mouse.

Gabe pulled up a chair and clicked on the message.

C
old shock iced Reggie’s limbs as reality hit her. Whoever was sending the creepy notes really
was
following her. He knew her every move, and he had actually broken into her hotel room the night before. Now he was talking about being together. Was this the escalation that Gabe was talking about?

“I’ll be damned. He really was there,” Gabe muttered.

Reggie shook her head, denial welling in her chest. “I can’t believe it. I thought I was overreacting.”

“I want to send this to a friend of mine. He was in the forces with me and has his own security company now. He’s an expert at finding electronic trails.”

Reggie sat quietly while Gabe left his friend a message and forwarded her e-mail. But she still had several messages to go through, so Reggie sat back down for the next hour and did her best to focus on the work at hand and not obsess over how the stalker had gotten access to her hotel information and worse, their hotel room.

One bright spot was an e-mail from her editor, saying that she loved the previous chapters and that since the
Good Morning America
story aired, sales of her last book had climbed a full ten percent. She didn’t know why having a rabid fan made her books more appealing, but she’d take any good news she could get at this point.

With that in mind, she made a mental note to call Max about ratings for
Simply Delicious
. Maybe they’d received a boost too.

The next few days passed in a blur as they traveled all over Texas. Reggie immersed herself in work, and much to her editor’s delight, made a decent dent in the work required for her next book.

On set was a little hairier. Though she did her best not to let it get to her, she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had settled like a heavy cloak around her shoulders. She’d tried to convince herself that the stalker was harmless, that everyone else was overreacting, but what if he really meant her harm? And while Gabe’s presence went a long way in making her feel safer, memories of his warm, wet mouth sliding over her skin tortured her every time she so much as looked at him.

As a result, she knew she was coming off as flat and distracted on-screen, but couldn’t seem to do anything about it.

After the director demanded a fifth take on an intro shot one afternoon in San Antonio, Carrie pulled her aside once again. “Reggie, I know you’ve got a lot on your mind lately, but you have got to pull it together. The last two days have taken twice as long as they should have, and I hate to say it, but it’s pretty much all your fault.”

As a rule, Reggie liked the shoot-from-the-hip, pull-no-punches style of the petite, dynamic producer. But not when she was on the receiving end of her sharp tongue.

Taking a few deep breaths, Reggie raised her face to the warm fall Texas sun as though she could absorb its energy through her pores. In the past few days, her usually boundless energy had abandoned her, leaving her listless, disconnected, and even a little depressed.

She snuck a glance over at G.I. Gabe, looking cool and composed, even as the sun beat down on his light wool sport coat. In his dark sunglasses, the sunlight playing off the sharp bones of his face and that sinfully voluptuous mouth, he looked like a Hollywood fantasy of a tough but sexy protector.

What she needed to do was take a page from Gabe’s book. Be a stickler about not letting personal matters interfere with work. Besides, while her fans might love her because she seemed so down to earth and approachable, she didn’t think she wanted to be everyone’s friend if it meant some people might take it as an invitation to break into her room and soil her underwear drawer.

The rest of the day went better. She managed to do the rest of the shoot with minimal takes, and they all piled into minivans to be shuttled off to Austin.

Thankfully, they were spending two nights in Austin with no early calls, and Reggie was hoping for a chance to rest and rejuvenate. She collapsed in her bed that night, looking forward to a long, leisurely sleep.

Gabe apparently had other ideas.

“Hey, wake up.”

Reggie rolled over and squinted at him, then at the clock. She pulled the pillow over her head and snuggled deeper under the comforter to ward off the air-conditioned chill.

Gabe ripped back the comforter and plucked the pillow from her grasp. “Come on, lazy, we’re going for a run.”

“It’s only six-fifteen.” Her gaze momentarily locked on his muscular, hair-dusted thighs displayed quite nicely by his nylon running shorts. She closed her eyes again. The last thing she needed was to start the day horny.

“It’s the best time of day,” he cajoled, reaching down to tug on her arm. He looked adorable, short hair tousled, eyes still a little sleepy, smile teasing the corners of his lips. “Besides, by the time you finish your coffee ritual, it’ll be after seven.”

She sat up, resenting how good he looked when she probably had a bed crease the size of the Grand Canyon running down her cheek. “I don’t have to be at the restaurant until ten,” she grumbled.

Gabe started rifling through her suitcase, pulled out a pair of shorts, jog bra, socks, and a T-shirt, then threw them at her. “That gives us time for a good, long run. And I’m going to teach you some self-defense moves.”

“Self-defense moves?” Her feet were on the floor and she thought about standing up.

“After having the guy break into your hotel room, even you have to start taking him seriously.” He left her to get dressed.

Forty minutes later, her caffeine needs met, Reggie trotted off after Gabe. Within ten minutes they reached the jogging trail that ran alongside the city’s Town Lake.

It took only a few minutes for the beauty of the early morning light glinting off the lake to lift her spirits. Soon she found it impossible to keep up the icy indifference of the past couple of days and was chatting with Gabe about anything and everything. When he remarked she might run faster if she didn’t talk so much, Reggie couldn’t bring herself to take offense.

They ran in silence for a little over forty-five minutes, Gabe slowing his pace considerably to match hers. She’d tried once in their travels to encourage him to go as fast as he wanted. He’d given her his “you’re an idiot” glare and informed her he’d never jeopardize her safety like that.

They passed a grassy clearing and Gabe pulled her off the trail.

“Is this the part where I get to beat you up?” she asked. She plopped on the grass, damp blades tickling the backs of her thighs as she took the opportunity to stretch.

“You can try,” he said with a slight grin as he assumed a defensive stance, feet braced wide on the grassy earth. “First, let’s go over the basics. You should never try to overpower a man, even if he’s smaller than you. There are, however, several points of vulnerability you can go for.”

“Oh wait, I know this,” she said, her mind rifling through its extensive pop culture database. “Something, instep, nose, and groin, right?”

“Have you been reading up?” he grinned.

She bent one knee into a hurdler’s stretch and folded over her straight leg. “Nope. But I’ve seen
Miss Congeniality
a hundred times.” She widened her legs into a straddle and bent her nose toward the grass. When she looked up, Gabe was staring at her with a slightly dazed expression. She widened her legs another few inches. His face flushed a darker shade of red, and it wasn’t from the slowly rising Texas heat.

He cleared his throat and seemed to shake himself a little, disappointing Reggie with how quickly he regained control. “You forgot solar plexus. Now, if you want to get up, we can do a little practice run. You jog across the field, and I’ll act like I’m attacking you from behind.”

Reggie rolled to her feet and started to jog. “How is this supposed to work if I know you’re coming?”

Her only answer was heavy footfalls in the grass behind her. Funny how even though she knew it was Gabe and knew he was harmless, relatively speaking, her adrenaline still picked up and she instinctively broke into a sprint. He caught her easily, one thickly muscled arm wrapping around her waist as his other hand engulfed the lower half of her face. “What are you gonna do now, little girl,” he whispered menacingly in her ear.

Thrashing, she kicked at his legs and clawed at his arms, all to no avail. After several seconds, he eased his hold on her waist and uncovered her mouth. Holding her like this, his chest was plastered against her back and she could feel his hair-roughened legs brushing against hers. His scent invaded her brain, clean sweat and soap that made her want to turn around and lick every salty drop from his body.

So wrapped up in her fantasy of giving him a tongue bath, she barely heard what he was saying.

“Focus. Try to stay calm so you can locate points of vulnerability, and save your energy to land blows that count.” She nodded, trying to ignore the way his hand splayed across her belly in a casual, yet intimate hold. He stiffened, every sinew tensing as he, too, became aware of how closely he was holding her. There was no denying the stirring pressure against her lower back as he carefully set her away from him. His voice, when he spoke, sounded like he’d swallowed ground glass. “Let’s try that again.”

This time when he caught her, she ignored the delicious feel of him rubbing against her and focused on channeling all of the past two weeks’ frustration into incapacitating blows. While she couldn’t get to his knee, she landed a blow on his instep that made him howl, leaving his groin vulnerable to attack.

But even in her frustrated state, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Call her an idiotic optimist, but she couldn’t help but hope she’d have occasion to use that part again soon, and she didn’t want it in any way incapacitated.

“Good job,” he said, wincing slightly as he put weight on his right foot. “We’ll work more on that, but for today I want to stop before I break any bones.”

They set off back to the hotel, and as they rounded the corner of the last block, Gabe slanted her a sly, boyish look. “Race you.”

He was off like a rocket. After putting her heart into it for about ten yards, Reggie realized it was much more entertaining to watch the tight muscles of his ass flex as he sprinted down the street.

“What about never leaving me to danger?” she said mock-testily when she caught up.

He grinned down at her, sweat beading in sexy trickles down his face as he caught his breath. “Best defense of all. If you’re running fast, who’s gonna catch you?”

Winded, legs heavy from exertion, Reggie felt better than she had since New Orleans. Though she had protested at first, the run left her energetic and rejuvenated, and she had to admit a greater feeling of empowerment and security now that she had at least a passing familiarity with some self-defense moves.

Within half an hour she was showered and dressed in one of her many pairs of black pants and a cobalt blue knit top with little lacings along the sides. She took extra care with her makeup, apprehensive about how she’d look next to today’s guest.

With good reason. As they arrived at Peliroja’s, the restaurant where they were filming today, Reggie saw that Katrina Garrett was as beautiful as she remembered. About ten feet tall, mile-long legs, boobs out to here, and a waist so small Reggie suspected she’d had a couple of ribs removed, the striking redhead strode across the elegant dining room to meet them. She held out her hand to Reggie and shook it in a firm, confident grip. “So good to see you. Rosie, isn’t it?”

Reggie’s eyes squinted as she struggled to maintain her smile. Katrina was still gorgeous, and apparently still a bitch. Reggie knew the slight was intentional. She’d met Katrina once before at a Cuisine Network function—Katrina’s show was set to debut early next year—but even if Katrina didn’t remember her name from that, she’d been well briefed on Reggie and the show when they’d scheduled this segment.

When Carrie had suggested the idea of bringing together two of Cuisine Network’s sexiest (Carrie’s word, not Reggie’s) female chefs and doing a little cross-promotion, Reggie had inwardly balked at the idea. But knowing full well she wasn’t yet big enough to argue every little misgiving, she’d agreed to Carrie’s idea.

Now, noting the undisguised feminine interest in Katrina’s eyes as she turned her gaze to Gabe, Reggie wished she’d exercised a little veto power.

With a warm, unmistakably suggestive smile, Katrina introduced herself to Gabe.

Gabe introduced himself, quickly explaining his presence.

Katrina’s laugh tinkled up to the ceiling. In her high-heeled, hand-tooled cowboy boots, she could almost look Gabe in the eye. Moving infinitesimally closer, she spared Reggie a quick glance. “That’s right. I heard about the stalker situation.” She turned to Reggie with a saccharinely sympathetic smile. “Amazing, isn’t it, how some people will obsess over just about anyone.”

Reggie chewed on the inside of her cheeks to prevent herself from lashing back. Katrina wanted to play queen bee? Fine. She was not going to lower herself by engaging in a catfight. “Thanks again for letting us film a segment here. Hopefully the show will be good publicity.”

Katrina finally released Gabe’s hand and tossed her glorious auburn mane over her shoulder. “Not that we need it. We’re booked solid for months. I wish I could return the favor and have you on my show, but I’m only visiting other chefs who have four-star restaurants. Speaking of which, are you and Craig Ferguson still an item?”

Reggie feared her cheek muscles would start spasming at the force of her strained smile as she shook her head. “No, we broke up over a year ago, actually. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to appear on your show. Now, I thought before we started, it would be a good idea to go over the recipes again.”

As unobtrusively as possible, Reggie steered Katrina back to the kitchen and away from Gabe. Once in the kitchen, setting up the shots, Reggie’s good mood from the morning deflated. With her skin-tight jeans hugging her tiny, firm ass and exotic good looks, Katrina made Reggie feel about as attractive as a pile of mud. How could a woman work in a restaurant and still have a body like that?