In the Fire (12 page)

I wondered if he was going to let me leave without any other discussion about what had just happened between us. The urge to press the issue warred with my knowledge that when Ethan was done, he was done. This would have to be revisited another time. Preferably after I talked to Trevor.

“This isn’t over.”

He raised his chin, defiant as always. “It never is.”

I nodded and without another word, I left. I was being irrational. There was no future here with Ethan. We lived on opposite sides of the country. Ethan was still attracted to me, sure, but he also didn’t seem to like me or trust me. It didn’t matter. As selfish as it sounded, all that mattered was I needed Ethan to love me again.

On the walk back to the hotel, I felt sick from the knot of confusion growing in the pit of my stomach. No matter how I turned it all over in my mind, I still couldn’t pinpoint a solution to help us get out of this problem. The attraction was still there between us, the kiss had confirmed that. But as soon as Claire had walked in, that mask of detachment fell into place. And even though I felt him pull back in the kitchen, I wondered if he hadn’t been the only one who had pulled back all those years ago. Now I just had to hope after I’d taken this first step back toward him, he’d do the same. The question was, now that I had taken a leap of faith, what would it cost me? I had told myself to be prepared for whatever outcome this trip brought me, but in all honesty, I was terrified of getting hurt. Again.

Chapter Seventeen

Ethan

I rolled over and looked at the clock. It was now five o’clock in the morning and I still hadn’t slept. My eyes were gritty and dry, and the events of the night before kept repeating on a loop in my mind. I’d stayed late at the restaurant, checking and rechecking shit to make sure we hadn’t let anything slide during our nightly cleanup, even though I knew full well everything was in perfect order. By the time I finally dragged my ass home, it was well after midnight. Alone in my apartment, I was still too keyed up to go to bed. I grabbed a beer and sat in front of the TV, flipping channels relentlessly, hoping for a distraction. I’d finally shut everything down around two and willed myself to sleep. No go. Three hours later, I was exhausted and still hadn’t figured out what in the hell was going on with me and Jamie.

I needed to get my mind off the conversation we’d had in the restaurant. I grabbed my laptop and booted it up. There were a few tweaks I wanted to make to our Marsala sauce, and nothing calmed my mind like searching for new spins on recipes.

I scrolled through a couple of blogs run by friends I’d made in the business. They were mostly small-timers like me who flew by the seat of their pants, instead of the famous commercial chefs who had huge crews under them to test the new recipes. After getting lackluster ideas from their sites, I pulled up one from a more well-known chef in the area, hoping to find inspiration in his blog section.

I rubbed my eyes as I waited for the site to fully load, going completely still when an ad up at the top caught my eye: “
Taste of the Big Apple
with Katie Samuelson:
Chef Talk
featuring James Lassiter.”

Son of a bitch. I’d tried but I couldn’t escape Jamie wherever I went. And then, he’d kissed me in the kitchen. Even though I had tamped that shit down and locked it away, that one kiss had unearthed everything. For years I’d told myself he didn’t mean anything, that what we’d had didn’t matter and hadn’t lasted because we were too fundamentally different. But were we really?

Against my better judgment, I clicked on the ad.
You are such an idiot.

The link opened another window on YouTube. Golden Boy stood behind a kitchen counter next to a short brunette. He looked relaxed as he talked to her about his new cookbook. Against my will, I turned up the volume and propped on my side with my laptop next to me on the bed.

The image of him standing there, talking about the pasta and sausage dish they were going to prepare together was too painful to watch. I closed my eyes, but the sound of his voice made it impossible for me to forget how much I ached for him. Listening to him brought back memories from our culinary school days when we’d been as close as two people could possibly be. His voice was low and husky, animated and breathless. I savored the sound of it, even though it made my chest ache from the ghost of a relationship I’d never thought would end. Frustrated, and too raw from seeing him again, I reached out and closed my laptop. I shoved it aside and laid back, draping one of my arms over my eyes in a futile effort to shut out the images of Jamie’s heated eyes and swollen lips after he’d kissed me. His deep voice resonated in my head as image after image flashed through my mind. Jamie in his tux as he stood onstage to present me my award. A younger Jamie laughing and throwing pillows at me during one of my late-night rambling sessions. An intense and focused Jamie, blue eyes gone dark and pale skin flushed with color, when it was just the two of us in bed with nothing else on our minds but skin to skin contact.

I shifted on the bed as my cock hardened. Image after image of a naked, sweaty Jamie Lassiter passed behind my closed eyes. I finally gave in and ran my hand down my bare chest to the waistband of my boxers. I gently swept my fingers across the tip of my cock.

What the hell was I doing? In the span of a month my entire world had been turned upside down. I loathed myself for fantasizing about Jamie, but I was past the point of being able to stop myself
.
No one will know about this.
No one will know how much I still ache for him.

Giving up the last vestige of control, I slipped my hand under the edge of my boxers to free my erection and swirled my finger over the pre-come pearled at the tip. I thought of his lips against mine last night in the kitchen as I slid my fingers down the length of my cock. More fuzzy images from the night of the awards ceremony flooded my mind as I remembered my hands on him. How he’d felt against me as he’d cried out in pleasure. Finally giving over to the fantasy, I wrapped my fingers around my throbbing cock as I envisioned a sweaty, needy Jamie Lassiter underneath me.

I could see myself kneeling over him, like I had done many times in the past. I remembered how much he loved to watch us. How he’d watch my hand as I’d stroke myself just like this. I reached down with my free hand to cup my balls and rolled them in my palm in time with my strokes. I could almost see Jamie leaning up to push my hand away so he could stroke me instead of just watching. Almost feel his long, slender fingers tightening around me as he said, “
God
,
Ethan
,
you look so sexy.
”

Heat spiraled lower in my belly as Jamie’s voice grew rougher. “
I
can’t wait to feel you inside me.
I
love it when you’re deep inside me.
I
can’t think of anything besides the feel of you.
”

Image after image of him stroking and tugging made my body coil tighter as I dug my heels into the bed and arched my back. I tugged harder on my balls, each twist of my wrist adding another layer to the fantasy. When I felt my balls tighten, I slid my hand down hard to the base of my shaft, gritting my teeth as I felt the familiar zing of electricity shoot down my spine. With a guttural cry, my cock pulsed in my hand as I felt the warm come hit my stomach and chest. I slowed my hand and ran my palm over my length a few more times, my breath ragged and uneven as my body trembled with the aftershocks of the orgasm.

Once my body finally stilled and my mind stopped racing, I stared at the come coating my sweat-slicked skin. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

Flopping back down on my bed, I took a moment to catch my breath. Seeing Jamie had brought back too many memories and emotions I thought I had completely eradicated from my system. Disgust at my lack of control warred with my ever-increasing confusion over what in the hell was going on between us. We needed to fix this shit, whatever this was between us, soon. The thought of living in this emotional limbo made me nauseated. I turned to glance at my alarm clock and knew I wouldn’t be getting any sleep in the short time I had between now and when I had to be at the restaurant.

If I couldn’t sleep with Jamie and get him out of my system I’d have to try something else. A hot shower would wash away the surface evidence of my desire for him, but I didn’t delude myself it would wash any thoughts of Jamie Lassiter out my head for good.

* * *

Four hours and too many cups of coffee later, I sat in my office working on payroll in an attempt to avoid Claire. An attempt I’d known had failed when my door slowly swung open and she appeared with a large glass of orange juice and a plateful of cheesy omelet goodness.

“Resorting to bribery, little sister?”

She pushed the door shut behind her with a laugh.

“Whatever it takes to get you to talk to me, I’m for it. I’m guessing last night didn’t end well.”

I grunted, but reached out to take the plate. Next to me, Claire made the best omelets on the planet. I usually didn’t have time for breakfast anyhow, except for coffee, but when Claire cooked for me, I ate.

“The permascowl you’ve been sporting all morning is a dead giveaway. Well, that and the way Tyler is being extra careful to not screw anything up.”

I devoured the omelet in four large bites as she watched with a combination of disgust and fascination. “Jesus, E. Chew your food. No one’s going to steal it.”

I washed the last bite down with a huge gulp of juice. Food and a sister who worried about me. What more could a man want? Besides the one person I wouldn’t let myself have.

“This is why you need to eat more than coffee and beer.”

“There’s hops and barley in beer. Those count as grains.”

She snorted as she perched on the edge of my desk. “Yeah, but man cannot live on beer, caffeine and nicotine alone.”

“I’ve done it the last eight years, Claire. I think I can manage.” My voice rose sharply and I closed my eyes to avoid her stare.

“You know, you two were good for each other but so damn young.”

When I opened my eyes, she was holding the framed photo she’d given me for my birthday after Jamie had left for Paris. In it, we were standing next to each other and he was beaming at the camera. I was looking at him. Written across my face was a mixture of love and lust and a million indefinable emotions I couldn’t hope to name.

Claire’s voice tore me away from the painful reminder of what we used to have. “I know Jamie doesn’t know you pretty much gave up the scholarship for him all those years ago. Don’t you think it’s time you put the past to rest and started living for the future?”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“What was he supposed to do, Ethan? Not follow his dream of being a chef? Wasn’t it why you gave it up in the first place? Yet you punish both of you every single day because it worked out just the way you wanted. When are you finally going to let it all go and realize what’s happening now?”

“Don’t you think I realize that, Claire? I’ve tried. You know I’ve tried. But it’s not easy and seeing him makes it even harder to let it all go.” I looked at the picture again, then rolled my shoulders in a futile effort to work some of the tension out of them. “Fuck it. It’s been too damn long and we’re both different people now. Plus I don’t have time for his shit. Hell, I’ve barely got enough time for my own.”

“You’ve worked your ass off, Ethan. You’ve made this place yours and I’m so proud of you. All it needs is your name on the deed and you’ll have what you’ve always wanted. But at what cost? You haven’t had anyone in your life but a string of empty hookups. Just ask yourself if at the end of the day it’s all worth it. Are you okay with being alone?”

“You’re alone too, Claire. Don’t forget.”

“Trust me, it’s not something I have the luxury of forgetting, Ethan. But if I had someone in the world who looked at me like Jamie still looks at you, I’d make shit work. I don’t know what happened while he was in Paris or whether he’s changed as much as you think he has. All I do know is you deserve to have the answers to all those questions I can see swirling around in that irritating brain of yours.”

She slid down and set the picture frame back on my desk, then gave me a wistful smile as she left.

After the door clicked shut behind her, I gave up trying to focus on the payroll and shut down the program. I shuffled through the pile of papers on my desk and spread out the inspection failure notices, the invoices for cleanup and the notice from the health department of impending inspection. Included in the stack was a notice from the insurance company about our fire suppression system. I read over the lines so many times, I knew it would be burned into my brain once I finally put the paper down.

“Our records indicate your fire suppression system is out of date and in need of upgrade. If you fail to upgrade your system, it will not pass inspection nor will it be deemed in ‘proper operating condition’ and may result in problems with your insurance policy and proper safety in your facility. Please see the attached quotes for possible upgrades.”

Five thousand for a new ANSUL system, another three to four grand for the installation of a sprinkler system. Plus a miscellaneous few thousand for parts and labor, not to mention the added inspections once the system was finally installed. There was no way Cal would be happy about this, and who knew where he was going to find the money for it after he’d already spent too much with the other problems the restaurant had run into lately.

I scrubbed my hand over my face in frustration. Since when had my whole career become dependent on a few pieces of paper?

When my email program pinged and two new messages popped up, I smiled when I saw one from Lily and scowled when I saw one from Chef B. The last time I’d dropped by the Institute we’d gone out for a beer to catch up. Chef Boulanger had been a driving force in my career as an advisor and mentor. He’d even been the one to hook me up with Cal for the job after graduation, which had become permanent. Cagey as always, he had waited until I was sufficiently relaxed to spring his idea for a fundraiser for No More Hunger on me. I’d found myself volunteering to be a guest chef and had conveniently pushed it out of my mind afterward. I scribbled a reminder on a sticky note to go pick up the tux I’d rented for the stupid gala night coming up on Saturday, wondering if I’d garnered shitty karma from the last time I’d ruined one.

When I clicked on Lily’s I expected the usual dirty joke or link to the newest filthy Tumblr account she’d discovered. Instead her message was short and sweet.

Just checking in, let me know you’re okay.

I shot her back an equally short message.

“I’m fine. Life is grand.”

A minute after I hit send, my cell phone rang and I cursed when I saw her name pop up on caller ID. I hit ignore and sent the call straight to voice mail. Not even thirty seconds later, a text appeared in my inbox.

Asshole. You sent me to VM.

Sorry. Stuck in a very important meeting.

You’re full of shit.

You are correct, Madam
, I sent back.

You’re such a dick. Next time you send me straight to VM I’m cutting you off BJs for the rest of your life.

Ouch.

A whole minute passed before I received another text.

Tell me about the blond.

What blond?

Cut the shit, E.

I stared at my phone. Text battles with Lily usually amused, but I wasn’t in the mood for my second interrogation of the day.