Hot in the City (8 page)

“That’s terrific—we’ve had some very good parties, here,” the woman said, handing her another flyer. “Just be aware, if your partner tonight doesn’t make it, you’ll have to forfeit the class without a refund, though you can rebook for another night.”

“That’s fine.”

As soon as she was by the desk, she called Gabe, who answered on the second ring.

“Della, what’s up? I thought you were busy tonight.”

“I was. I am... I just... I need you.”

“Well, that’s nice to hear,” he said, lowering his voice to a more intimate level, which made her smile.

“Not that way... I mean, I do—need you that way—but not at the moment, though sort of—”

“Della, what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t meet you because I had to do some bachelorette party research, and I think I’ve found a perfect alternative, but I need a partner—it’s a cooking class, but for couples only. If you can’t make it, I won’t be able to check it out.”

“You’re checking out a cooking class for a bachelorette party?” he asked doubtfully.

“Yeah, it’s a sexy class. Which is why I need a partner.”

“Oh, well then...um, sure, I can come. What time?”

“Right now? As soon as you can get here?”

She closed her eyes, knowing she was asking a lot after turning down his invitation for the evening.

“Sounds fun. Where is it?”

She told him the address.

“I can be there in twenty minutes, so I’ll see you soon.”

They hung up and Della let go a sigh of relief. This was going to work, she just knew it.

Heading toward the kitchen, she waited for Gabe as long as possible until she was the last one outside in the hall. A guy in his twenties wearing a black suit gestured for her to enter, and she started to make an excuse, to wait for Gabe, just when he appeared at the end of the hall.

“Thank you for waiting a moment, there’s my partner now,” she said to the young man and smiling in Gabe’s direction.

“Gabe, thank you so much for making it,” she said with a quick hug and kiss, shuttling him in the door before they were both locked out.

The guy at the door introduced himself as Alex, and showed them to a tiny corner spot, where there was a table set with candles as well as a counter and cooking surface. Several bottles of wine and ingredients for mixed drinks lined a small bar behind the table. Five other couples had similar arrangements, three cooking/eating areas lined on either side of the room, with the cooking instruction table set at the front.

A widescreen TV by the cooking area would project the lesson, so that everyone could see and hear equally, with a red button that could be pressed for help or if they had questions.

“Wow, this is some setup,” Gabe said under his breath.

“I wonder if they have a different setup for parties...it wouldn’t be very festive to have everyone separate.”

“You can ask later, I imagine. This is a great idea, though. What else did you consider?”

“I’ve been to every male strip club in Manhattan today, actually,” she said, and grinned at the shock on his face. “It was educational, but I agree, I like this option better.”

They both turned their attention to the front of the class, where two chefs—husband and wife, as they announced—introduced themselves and welcomed everyone to the class.

“The point of the evening is to have fun, to learn some of the seductive and aphrodisiac qualities of regular foods, and to make the time you spend in the kitchen with your partner a more intimate experience. Too often cooking becomes one person’s
job
in a relationship, and that can lead to boring meals and the loss of a chance to connect with your significant other. But cooking, and food, are sensual experiences, and if you share the pleasures of the kitchen, you’ll add a whole new layer of sensuality to your relationship, we promise,” the female chef said, receiving an adoring look and a kiss on the cheek from her husband.

“There is one rule we like to add to our evening of cooking—you must each share a secret with your partner while you are cooking, something you have never shared with them before.”

Murmurs filled the room, and a few chuckles. Della wondered what secrets Gabe would share.

“And while touching and intimacy are encouraged, we keep it PG, please, and safe—we are using sharp knives and hot implements, so perhaps be discreet about which secrets you decide to share,” the man said with a wink, and a shake of his spatula, making everyone laugh at the joke.

“The lesson starts with learning to move around each other in the kitchen space, and learning to share that space, which can be a dance of sorts. We’re going to give you a list of tasks, which will show up on the screen above your counter. Get the job done, but find ways to touch, and to stand close to each other while you work, within reason, of course,” the female chef instructed.

Then, the bustle of activity started, and she and Gabe were no exception, following the instructions on the screen while keeping an eye on the front of the room. Still, Della’s focus was interrupted by how Gabe brushed by her, letting his arm graze her breast, or how he leaned in to kiss the back of her neck when he reached over her to get something from a cupboard.

For a second, her overachiever self, who took over when she was learning something, almost found that interruption annoying, but then she remembered why they were there. Two could play that game, she thought, as she watched him mixing the ingredients for dough that would become sweet rolls. He was confident in his movements, as if he was no stranger to the kitchen.

“This is fun,” she said, sidling up next to him. Taking a moment from her own preparations, she stood behind him and pressed in, sliding her hands down his forearms until their hands met in the flour and moved over each other, kneading the soft dough together.

“Inhale the scents, notice the textures,” the chef advised. “The aromas of the dough and the strawberries, whichever you are preparing, are both sensual and sweet, with known aphrodisiac qualities. Take time to experience every nuance.”

As her hands moved with his, and her breasts pressed into his strong back, Della was noticing all the nuances she could handle, that was for sure. A few seconds later, she backed away, and washed her hands so that she could work on the strawberries. She noticed the ruddy color of arousal in Gabe’s cheeks, though, and when he looked at her, it was reflected in his gaze.

“You keep that up, this dough isn’t going to be the only thing rising,” he said with a sideways grin, making her laugh out loud.

“I love it!” the female chef applauded in approval in their direction. “When you can laugh together, it’s a beautiful thing.”

Della nodded, returning her attention to the strawberries and following the directions for slicing them to perfection.

“Now follow the instructions for the glaze, and wrapping the fruit in the rolls with the honey glaze...and if you get a bit of honey on your partner, be sure to kiss it off,” the female chef instructed with a mischievous tone.

As they assembled their sweet rolls, Gabe took some honey and rubbed it on her lip.

“Oh, sorry...let me get that for you,” he said, and dipped in for a kiss, his tongue licking the sweet, sticky stuff from her lip.

It was all Della could do to keep her messy hands to herself, and not pull him closer for more.

When he pulled back, he smiled as he took in her expression, and she knew he could tell how much that kiss had affected her.

So turnabout was fair play, of course.

Taking an unsliced strawberry from her bowl, she didn’t let her gaze leave his as she sank her teeth into it, licking the juice from her lips and then offering him the rest. As he bit into it, his mouth touching her fingertips, they both caught a breath.

“So what’s your secret, Della?”

“Hmm?”

“We’re supposed to share a secret. What’s yours?”

Her mind scrambled. What secret could she share? Not that she had many of them.

“I... I’ve never had sex in a public place.” She remembered the museum. “I mean, while the public was actually there.”

That made his eyes glitter with particular interest.

“How about you? What’s your secret?” she said as they finished their sweet rolls and moved on to the next course. For that, they simply had to create an herbed butter that they cooked over two steaks with salad. As instructed, she lifted the bouquet of herbs to her nose, inhaling the scent, though she didn’t think she needed any help being turned on by Gabe.

Gabe didn’t answer right away, but suddenly he turned serious as they cooked.

“I have only had one serious relationship in my whole life. I’ve only been in love once,” he admitted.

Della’s mouth went dry. She hadn’t expected him to share something that important. She faced him, forgetting her food prep for the moment.

“What happened?”

By the look on his face, she knew it hadn’t ended well.

“She died,” he said, and put his knife down on the counter, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. It was all I could think of to share. That was a stupid thing to bring up here,” he muttered, apologizing again as he took his apron off, leaving the cooking area.

Della followed him into the hall, abandoning the class. None of that mattered. Clearly Gabe had revealed something important, and she wanted to let him know it was okay. She also wanted to hear the rest of the story, if he would trust her enough to tell it.

8

G
ABE
WAS
LOSING
IT
—out in the quiet of the hall, he tried to think straight. Della had followed him, and now stood beside him, waiting quietly. She didn’t push or prod, just waited.

“I’m sorry for ruining the fun,” he said with a sigh. “I don’t know why that came out just then, that way.”

But he did know why.

It was because a part of him wanted her to know—that was the problem, what he had really wanted to say was that he’d only had one real relationship before now.

Before Della.

Thinking back to his feelings about Janet, as much as he’d thought he loved her, he couldn’t remember ever being this crazy about someone, so much so that he was willing to chuck everything he believed in to be with her. Gabe had never completely lost objectivity until Della.

Worse, he was still tangled up in lies—big ones, and they were only getting bigger.

He’d lied, of course, to Bart, about being able to handle the situation with Della. He was lying to Della about an assortment of things—including that he had been following her that evening.

When she’d begged off of dinner with him, making vague excuses, he’d become suspicious. He’d planted a small tracking device in her bag and her coat when they were together last, so he could monitor her movements. He hadn’t put surveillance in her home yet. He hadn’t had the nerve.

Another problem.

After updating Bart on the fact that she’d been approached by her dance instructor, and that someone might have tried to assault her in her office, they both agreed that Gabe needed to stay as close as possible. That was the easy part. Getting too close was the danger, but Gabe had already crossed that line.

He’d watched her duck into several strip clubs, which didn’t seem like her style, but how much did he really know about her? Maybe it was misdirection, or maybe it was a meet of some sort.

Then she was so open about it, that it was research for the bachelorette party, he’d been ashamed of his own suspicions. He thought he felt something more than sexual attraction for Della, but could he be suspicious of her yet lie to her at the same time when he thought he had serious feelings for her? Was that screwed up, or what?

Then his phone had rang, and it was Della. Asking him to meet her.

He had to make an excuse, stall, though he agreed—it wasn’t like he could tell her he was right across the street.

Now, they stood quietly together in the hall, his words hanging between them. She put a hand on his arm, a comforting, supportive gesture.

“It came up because you needed to say it, and I’m willing to listen, if you need to talk about it.”

Another fork in the road.

Telling her about Janet meant something. It changed the game. And he had a job to do. Above all, was it fair to Della to drag her along, to make her feel like they had something real, when it was all smoke and mirrors?

“And if you don’t, that’s okay, too,” she said simply, granting him the out.

Gabe fought the urge to come clean with her, to tell her everything and let the chips fall where they may.

As he started to speak, fate intervened as the door behind them opened and the female chef emerged, looking at them in concern.

“Oh, good, you’re still here. We saw you leave, and I took the first chance I could to make sure you were okay. We thought someone might have gotten hurt,” she said, her expression still worried.

“Oh, no, we’re fine,” Della reassured her. “We just needed a moment alone.”

The chef’s eyebrow raised curiously, the concern replaced with a spark of mischief.

“Oh, no,” Della said, as Gabe watched her blush to the roots of her hair, which made him fight a smile. “We need to discuss something personal that came up.”

The chef nodded. “I understand. Cooking together can spark all kinds of things, including the closeness necessary to share our innermost feelings. Though it’s clear how you two feel about each other,” she said with a wink. “If you want, I can help you catch up and enjoy the rest of the evening with us. I hope you will.”

Gabe smiled, thankful for the rescue, and put his hand on Della’s shoulder.

“We’d love to. Sorry for any disruption,” he said.

“Wonderful!” she said, clearly pleased as she ushered them back to the cooking space, where she expertly chopped and chatted with them until they were caught up with the class.

“I like her. And her husband. I think this is definitely an option for the bachelorette party. Maybe I can ask them about doing some funny, sexy things, too.”

“It’s a great idea,” Gabe agreed, leaning over to kiss her forehead as he put the salad on the table, and opened the bottle of wine recommended by the chefs.

As everyone sat down to eat their dinner, a crème brûlée cooked as they ate, adding to the delectable aromas filling the room.

“There really is something to cooking and the textures and aromas that can affect your mood and your mind-set,” he said, somewhat surprised.

Della nodded, lifting a bite of her salad to his lips. One of the requirements of the class was also sharing your food, and feeding each other.

“I’ve read about it here and there, things like baking cookies or burning cinnamon candles when you want to sell your home, or to make people feel welcome,” she said with a smile. “Our senses are so sharp, and yet we use them so carelessly most of the time.”

“How so?”

“We don’t pay attention, mostly, to everything around us. Sounds, scents, textures...how much gets lost in the rush of daily life?”

“That’s true. But if we tried to take it all in, we’d never get anything done,” he said with a grin.

Though he knew exactly how important it was to be a keen observer of his surroundings. In his world, what his senses told him could be the line between life and death.

Gabe cut a succulent bit of meat and, opting not to use the fork, offered it to her with his fingers, grazing her lips as she took the bite. Closing her eyes and inhaling as she chewed, he could only watch.

She was gorgeous.

“Oh, that’s amazing,” she said on a half sigh, and he knew she didn’t mean only the steak as her eyes opened and met his.

The touch of her mouth to his fingertips as he offered her a second bite sent sparks of arousal skittering over his skin. He pulled back, disconcerted. He wanted her, but it was almost overwhelming. Gabe wasn’t accustomed to being overwhelmed. By anything. Anyone.

She sent him reeling out of control over and over again, and he didn’t like
that
. Didn’t like saying things he didn’t mean to say, or dealing with emotions that he didn’t want to feel.

“Gabe?” she asked, half-cautious, half-worried.

He focused, shoved his feelings down. Smiled.

“Sorry, you sent my mind elsewhere... For instance, wondering what we could do in this small,
public
space,” he said, inching his chair closer to hers.

Leaning in, he put his mouth close to her ear. “What could I get away with in this room full of people, Della? What could I do to you with all of them just yards away?”

He felt her shiver as his hand found her knee, slid up under the edge of her skirt.

She looked over her shoulder, past him, toward the room where everyone was sitting, the chefs making the rounds to spend a little time with each couple. They were several tables away, and the cooking counter offered some privacy, if not much.

Gabe slid his hand higher, as his other lifted his wine to take a drink before sharing the taste with Della via a kiss.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, resting his hand between her thighs, enjoying the heat he discovered there. She wore tights, but that was hardly a barrier.

She swallowed hard, closing her eyes as he rubbed, and shook her head.

Gabe’s heart sped as he found an intimate spot that made her bite her lip in response.

“Shhh...no one can know. And the chefs will be here in just a few minutes,” he said, turning so he could palm her breast with his other hand, thumbing the hard point with just enough pressure to make her shudder.

“You need to come, Della... I want you to come,” he whispered, increasing the pressure of his touch in both spots until her head dropped against his shoulder, her entire frame tightening and then releasing as she did just as he asked her.

The pulse in her neck raced, her cheeks flushed, eyes hazy as he removed his hand, smoothed her skirt.

Anyone looking at her would know what just happened.

Maybe anyone looking at him would know the same, that for the moment, he had retained control. Had managed to play the game and not lose his way.

Until she took a drink of her wine, catching her breath and calming down, before she turned the tables, her hand sliding into
his
lap.

The chefs laughed, their voices closer now, only one table away. Gabe was already hard from making her come, and it took every ounce of that self-control he valued so much to lift her hand away as their teachers approached their table.

As they visited and shared their compliments about the class, Gabe was impressed with how Della rallied, not appearing flustered at all. For all anyone knew, the flush in her cheeks was from the wine. She discussed the bachelorette party, and had locked down the date before the couple moved on.

“When you decide to do something, you don’t waste any time, do you?”

“Not when I know it’s the right decision.”

Gabe nodded. How often had he been that certain of anything? Not often...at least, not recently.

“I feel pretty sure about something else, too,” she said mischievously.

“What’s that?”

“While what you just did was sort of like having sex in public, it wasn’t
really
having sex. It was one-sided, and just a warm-up. An...appetizer,” she said flirtatiously.

What was she getting at?

Taking his hand, her eyes sparkled as she led him to the back, where everyone had left their coats, bags and briefcases.

The coat closet?

“Della, I really don’t think we should—”

As she pulled him inside and closed the door, she put her back against the door as she beckoned him to join her.

“You’re experienced enough at covert operations to carry this off, don’t you think?” she teased, peeling off her tights and shoving them in her bag.

Gabe didn’t want to resist, though he knew he should. She had a way of turning things around, making him throw caution to the wind.

As he leaned into her, his hands planted on the door on either side of her head, she unzipped his pants, her nimble fingers closing around him and stealing his words before he could object again. Five minutes later, deep inside of her, Gabe forgot whatever objections he had.

* * *

D
ELLA
MISSED
G
ABE
.

She knew that she shouldn’t, but the past week had been so marvelous, it was hard not to feel his absence. But she was an independent, modern woman, determined not to pine over the absence of a lover.

Today, she’d focused on her work, meeting with new grad students coming into the program in the fall and then with Chloe to help with final wedding arrangements and a light dinner.

Having gone through her life pretty much alone as a young person, Della knew the value of her friends, and she wasn’t going to ignore them just because she was with a guy. That was rule number one.

No matter how great that guy was.

Still, Gabe had been on her mind almost constantly in spite of her best intentions, and every time she checked her phone and found no message from him, her heart sank a bit.

Grow up, Della.
He also had responsibilities and maybe he had decided to focus on his work today, too. He’d said she was a distraction, after all, she thought with a smile.

She’d never been told that before.

“How is it going with lover boy?” Chloe asked as they strode up the steps to Della’s apartment. “You haven’t mentioned him all afternoon, but you’ve checked your phone a million times. Trouble in paradise?”

Della stalled, unsure how to respond as she grabbed her mail and picked through it, separating the junk from the things she wanted.

“Della?”

“Sorry. No, there’s no trouble. I don’t think so, anyway. We’ve had the best week, actually. Yet I can’t help but feel the hovering of that other shoe about to drop—this wasn’t supposed to be a long-term relationship, and that hasn’t changed. Not that I know of.”

“He hasn’t suggested otherwise?”

Della frowned and leaned back against the wrought-iron rail on her stoop. “That’s where it feels muddy. I know he can’t share a lot about his job, but I can’t help feeling that it’s more than that.”

“Like what?”

Della sat on the cast-iron bench that she’d put on her stoop, and Chloe joined her.

“I don’t know. Like he wants to maintain a certain distance, especially if he feels like we’re getting too close? He’ll let his guard down for a second, but then if I ask anything too personal, he clams up. He almost shared with me about a relationship he had before, a serious one—the woman died.”

“Oh, how awful!”

Della nodded, looking down at her hands. “It is. But then he clammed up and never mentioned it again, and I don’t feel right asking, though I’m curious, of course. And since that moment, while he’s sweet and attentive about sex, that’s pretty much all it seems we have.”

“Hmm. Except on your side, I take it? You have more feelings for him?”

“I could, if I let myself. I wonder, if he lost someone he really loved, if he’s ever going to want to be with anyone else. Maybe that’s why he keeps things temporary and light. And I know I should, too, but it’s difficult.”

“Or, maybe you should tell him how you feel...who knows? Maybe he needs to hear that. If he is gun-shy, maybe he needs a push?”

“I don’t know that I’d like his response.”

“That is always the risk,” Chloe agreed with a sigh, as Della slid the key in the lock of her door, but the door pushed open on its own.

“What the heck?” she whispered to herself. She was positive she had locked her door, and double-checked it. She always did.