Huddle With Me Tonight (16 page)

Torrian had to clear his throat before speaking. “That one is from the northern region of Italy. The wine cellar is one of the most diversely stocked in the city.”

“Which is saying a lot, because New York restaurants have some of the best wines in the country.”

“It was expensive bringing in selections from so many different regions of the world, but the consultant assured me the wine list was the way to get the clientele we’re seeking into the restaurant.”

Paige nodded. “I’ve reviewed a lot of places, and the wine pairings make a huge difference. It was a good investment.”

Deirdre came out of the kitchen, and set the tray she carried on a nearby table.

“Here we go.” She removed the single rose vase in the center of their table and replaced it with a triangle-shaped plate that held a baked artichoke drizzled with an orange-colored sauce. She sat a smaller bowl of drawn butter next to it. “Sorry I have to serve the first and second courses simultaneously, but I’m late for my study group.”

“Don’t be silly,” Paige said. “I feel like a queen already.”

“That’s perfect, since I happen to think this meal is fit for royalty,” Deirdre returned with a grin. Before each of them, she placed plates of perfectly grilled filet mignon, seasoned asparagus spears and potatoes so thinly sliced that the plate’s etched Fire Starter Grille logo showed through.

“Bon appétit,” she finished. She turned to Torrian. “Once you’re done with the appetizer and main course, I have dessert in the cooler.” She turned back to Paige. “Enjoy your meal.”

“I know I will,” Paige answered. “Thank you so much for preparing this, Deirdre.”

“Thank you for coming.” She gave them another half bow and turned to leave, but not before giving Torrian a sly wink.

“Your sister is so sweet,” Paige said.

“Dee’s good.” Torrian nodded in agreement. “She also happens to be an awesome chef.”

Torrian rose from his chair and dragged it around the table until he was about a foot from her. As he sat, he reached over and pulled a leaf of artichoke from the cluster. He dipped it into the drawn butter, and cupping a hand under the other, held the vegetable out to her.

With a gleam in her eye, Paige leaned forward and captured the leaf between her lips. Slowly, she dragged her teeth along the leaf, pulling the vegetable’s tender flesh into her mouth.

The sight was so damn erotic that Torrian became instantly hard.

“Mmm,” she moaned, closing her eyes. Torrian nearly matched her sound, savoring the look of absolute ecstasy on her face. “That’s good,” she groaned.

She reached over, grabbed a portion of the artichoke and dipped it. Then, mimicking his movements, held it out for him to sample. Torrian’s teeth sank into the warm, supple flesh and he dragged it from the leaf. The artichoke melted in his mouth.

“Good, isn’t it?”

“Unbelievable,” he answered.

She tried to pull her hand away, but Torrian captured it. A drop of butter glistened on the tip of her knuckle. He brought her hand to his mouth and lapped up the butter with his tongue, relishing the salty taste combined with Paige’s unique flavor.

“That was even better,” he said, the words barely making it past the lump of desire lodged in his throat.

His eyes locked on hers, seeking permission. She answered with a subtle nod and leaned in close.

Torrian captured her lips, immediately pulling the bottom one into his mouth and sucking. The saltiness of the butter, mixed with her intoxicating essence, was hypnotic. He thrust his tongue in and out of her mouth, swirling it around, pulling at her tongue, relishing the taste.

Paige mewled softly. It sent his blood spiking.

He leaned until their chests touched. Her nipples were hard pebbles under her thin, silky blouse. They branded his chest, eliciting the most erotic thoughts imaginable. In his mind he saw himself draping her across the table, hitching up that sexy black skirt she was wearing and spreading her legs wide. His erection strained to the point of pain.

“Torrian,” Paige gasped, pulling away. She panted, her chest rising and falling with each breath. “If we don’t stop, our steaks are going to be too cold to eat,” Paige said through a hoarse whisper.

“I couldn’t care less about the steak.”

“Speak for yourself,” she said with a breathless laugh. She put her hand on his chest and gently pushed him back.

Torrian obeyed, even though he wanted nothing more than to shove the food to the floor and clear a place for her seduction. He topped off their wineglasses and they dived into their meal. The steak had cooled slightly, but he was still so overheated by their kiss that Torrian hardly noticed it.

“This is an excellent cut of beef,” Paige commented. “You are serving some top-quality food here.”

“We have to. Deirdre’s good, but she isn’t a big-name chef yet. My name is going to get them in the door, but we’ve got to have great food in order to keep them coming back.”

“You have absolutely nothing to worry about, Torrian. The food is outstanding, the wine list is fabulous and the ambience is superb. I think you’ll be pleased with my review.”

“You know you don’t have to be anything but honest.”

“I don’t know any other way to be,” Paige answered. “It will not be hard to write an honest, excellent review.”

They reached for their glasses at the same time and each sipped their wine, sharing matching smiles over the rim of their stemware. Apprehension tightened his chest as he geared up for what he was about to do. He knew he had a fifty-fifty chance of getting a flat-out rejection, but he’d never been one to let a bit of humiliation stop him.

“Paige?”

“Yes?” She lowered her glass and brought another bite of steak to her lips.

Torrian placed his elbows on the table and folded his hands. “I was hoping you would join me at my house in the Hamptons this weekend,” he said.

Her chewing slowed; Torrian could see her swallow. She picked up her glass and took another drink. His heartbeat thudded in his ears as he awaited her answer.

“Uh, wow,” she said, setting the glass on the table.

“If this is moving too fast for you, just tell me.” He caught her hand and brought it to her lips. “But I want to spend time with you.
Real
time with you.”

“The kind of time where we get naked together?” she asked with a bluntness he’d witnessed on her blog, but not as much in person.

Torrian had to pull in a breath; an attempt to calm himself at the image her statement summoned in his brain.

“Only if that’s what you want,” he forced himself to answer in the most nonchalant tone he could muster. Every part of his being was screaming to spend the entire weekend with her naked in his arms. “I don’t want to pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to do, but I think you would enjoy my house at the beach, with or without clothing,” he tacked on with a smile. It got him the reaction he’d wanted: a return smile.

“I would have to think it over,” she said.

“Well, if it’s any incentive, I received an invitation from Stephen Cambridge for a party he’s having at his place. I did tell you we’re neighbors, right?”

Her eyes widened like beautiful saucers. “This is blackmail.”

“Kind of,” he admitted. “I was thinking this would be a great way for you to get some face time with him. Remind him of how fabulous it would be if he picked up your column for syndication.”

Paige lowered her fork without eating the sliver of potato she’d stabbed. “You do not play fair,” she said.

“Not when it’s about getting what I want,” Torrian told her.

“Do you think you can get an invitation to the party?”

“The invitation is already there. Cambridge was excited I finally accepted. Whenever he’s invited me to one of his parties, I’ve had to decline. I’m hardly at my place in the Hamptons.” He settled his elbows on the table. “So, what do you say? You can come as my date,” he said, getting a slight thrill just at the thought of walking into a party with Paige at his side. The instant sag of her shoulders dimmed his excitement just a bit.

“Discretion, remember?” she reminded him.

They were back to that. Torrian stifled a sigh. “We don’t have to go as an official couple,” Torrian said. “We can just tell people that it’s more promo for the show. This can be just another one of those public appearances where you have to tolerate my presence,” he teased. “What do you say, Paige?”

She returned his grin, her eyes bright with laughter. “I guess I can suffer through it, for the sake of the show, of course.”

“So, is this a yes?” he asked.

She stared at him from her seat across the table, and Torrian wanted nothing more than to lean over and capture her lips in another kiss.

“Yes,” she said.

A mixture of relief and excitement bubbled up in his blood. He went for his fork again, his appetite for his steak returning now that he’d gotten that out of the way.

“Torrian?”

The softness of her tone brought his head up. “Yeah?”

“My answer would have been yes even if we were not going to the party.”

Torrian placed his fork on the white linen without touching his food.

“I don’t want you to think the opportunity to meet Stephen Cambridge is the only reason I accepted your invitation. I said yes because I want to be with you.”

Torrian pushed the plate aside, leaned over and gave her the kind of kiss that would last them both until they were finally in each other’s arms.

Paige arrived at the studio less than a half hour before they were scheduled to go on the air. She ran to makeup where they quickly transformed her from tired with puffy eyes to runway beautiful. She so needed to bring the makeup crew home with her.

The hairstylist did a final flip with the curling iron, and hit the back of the chair. “You’re ready.”

“Thanks, Cynthia,” Paige said, hopping out of the chair. She reached the kitchen with only seconds to spare.

“Don’t ask,” she told Torrian. Paige tied the apron around her back and pasted on a smile.

“Rolling,” the segment producer said, followed immediately by the anchor woman who started, “This is the third of our five-part competition between Sabers wide receiver Torrian Smallwood and popular entertainment writer Paige Turner. Last week, our judges had a hard time deciding between Torrian’s homemade cream of mushroom soup and Paige’s chicken and sausage gumbo, but the gumbo won out, tying the score at one apiece and winning $20,000 for each charity, courtesy of Meyer cookware.

“Today is the all-important entrée, and if the aroma is any indication, this will be another hard-fought battle. What are you cooking for us today, Torrian?”

The camera zeroed in on his face, giving Paige a chance to throw the first of her ingredients for her artichoke-stuffed chicken into the skillet. “I’ve got one of the signature dishes that will be served at the Fire Starter Grille, veal cutlets with a merlot sauce.

“I seared the cutlets on each side, and now I’m going to add the ingredients for my sauce.” He tossed minced garlic into a pan of sizzling oil, the hiss being picked up by the overhead microphone.

“And what about you, Paige?” came the anchor’s voice.

“I’ve got chicken breasts stuffed with artichoke hearts,” Paige answered. “This is one of my favorite recipes. The key is to pick chicken breasts that are close in size so they’ll all cook evenly.”

“Good tip, Ms. Turner.” Torrian grinned from behind his cooking station.

“Happy to share, even with the competition,” Paige answered.

“We’ll check back with you two in the second half-hour.” Laughter could be heard in the anchor woman’s voice.

“We’re out,” the segment producer said.

Paige expelled a huge sigh and slouched her shoulders. Torrian was at her cooking station in seconds.

“What happened to you this morning?” he asked.

“What
didn’t
happen?” Paige said. She shook her head, thinking about the call from her mother. Her dad had to be switched to yet another medication for his hypertension, after the latest one started showing side effects. “It was just one of those mornings when everything that could go wrong did.”

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked.

“Burn your veal cutlets.”

“Nice try.” Torrian laughed. “Seriously, if there’s anything I can do, just let me know.”

Paige shook her head. “I’m heading back home once we’re done here. I’ve got to finish up my next column, and then,” she lowered her voice, “I need to pack for a little weekend trip I’m taking to the Hamptons.”

“Hmm…sounds interesting,” Torrian said.

“I have a feeling it will be. You’re picking me up at the corner of 17th and 3rd, right?”

“If you say so.” He shook his head. “It kills me that I can’t pick you up in front of your building.”

“Torrian—” Paige started.

“But I know we have to be discreet,” he said. “The Torrian Smallwood supporters would be so disappointed if they found out about us. Have you checked your blog lately? People have taken sides and they are not letting up.”

“I have my own share of supporters, thank you very much,” Paige said, turning back to her cooking station.

“Oh, I know. And they all think you’re going to kick my butt.”

“Told you my readers were smart.” Paige winked.

They finished up their entrées and arranged three plates for this week’s judges. One was the executive chef of one of New York’s trendiest restaurants, another was a local councilman, and the third was Thelonious Stokes, from the Sabers. Paige had balked at having one of Torrian’s teammates as a judge, but Theo Stokes had assured her that it was to her advantage. He was always hard on Torrian, which was probably why Torrian had complained just as much as Paige had.

“And we’re back with the judging portion of this week’s food challenge.” The three judges were introduced. Paige had to admit that Theo Stokes was nearly as gorgeous as Torrian, even though his bulging muscles made him look twice Torrian’s size.

“Let’s start with dish A, the veal cutlets with merlot sauce.”

As the judges sampled Torrian’s dish, Paige looked over at him and found him staring back at her with his arms crossed over his apron-covered chest and a wry grin on his lips. He winked at her.