Love in the Morning (11 page)

She rubbed one heel over his ass and down the line of his leg as the heat built at her center.

His lips moved to touch between her breasts, then a whispering line down her body, his tongue dipping into her navel.

She arched her back, rubbing herself against him, heat and need building inside her.

He spread her thighs wider, running his thumbs across the delicate skin at the top, and then dipped his head to run his tongue across her clit. One finger plunged deep inside her and she groaned.

She bent her knees, bringing her heels beside him on the bed.
Slow down, slow down.
But she couldn't. The pressure built at her center, an ache that hung between pain and pleasure. And then she was arching up, the heat tearing through her, taking her high before shattering into a million shards.

She must have cried out. He looked up at her, panting. “Still okay?”

Okay
didn't cover it. She nodded. “I need you inside me. Now.”

His lips edged into another grin. “I'm just getting started.”

“So am I.
Now
.”

His grin widened. He reached for his pants beside the bed. “Can you hang on a minute?”

She nodded. “A minute I can do.”

He tore open the condom packet with his teeth, then smoothed it in place. Normally she might have offered to help, but she didn't want to slow him down. Right now, she felt like speed was the essential thing.

He turned back to her again, pushing her thighs apart gently, his gaze holding hers as he leaned forward. He entered her slowly, so slowly, filling her, letting her take him deeper. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling his mouth down to hers again so that she could taste him, taste herself on his tongue, as he began to move.

Her hips rose almost without her control, coming up to meet him as he pushed deep inside her. She cupped him and heard him groan, felt the tightening of his body against hers. Heat and light seemed to build at her core, growing as the tension increased, driving her up as he moved.

And then she was riding up again, along that column of heat and light, soaring upward as her body pulled in, fireworks spinning behind her eyelids when she closed her eyes.

For a long moment she seemed to balance at the top, teetering at the edge of bliss. And then she was over again and sliding into chaos, her body jerking as she cried out, thrusting herself against him as he came undone along with her.

He collapsed on top of her, his face pressed against the side of her throat. “Lizzy,” he murmured. “Sweet Jesus.”

Sweet Jesus and praise heaven.
It had been way too long since she'd felt this way. As a matter of fact, she wasn't sure she'd ever felt exactly this way before. She closed her eyes and concentrated on catching her breath.

They lay tangled together for what seemed like a long time, her legs entwined with his, his arms around her back. The warmth of his body covered her, enfolded her. Finally, he reached behind him and pulled up a sheet, then rolled to the side, keeping one arm around her shoulders.

“Wow,” he said after a moment. “A lot of wow.”

Say something.
But her mind was a total blank. All she wanted to do was cuddle against him, feeling the warmth and comfort of his body.

He looked down at her. “Anything?”

She raised her eyebrows. Even that was an effort. “Ditto?”

He chuckled, rolling onto his back, leaving her uncovered. She moved closer again, tucking herself against his side.

“Is this going to be weird?” he said softly.

“What?” She turned to look up at him.

“This. Doing this while we work together.”

You mean we're going to do this again?
Not that she didn't find that idea really appealing. “As long as we don't do it in the kitchen, I think we'll be okay.”

He grinned shaking his head. “I think I can promise that won't happen.” He paused, narrowing his eyes. “Wait. Does that mean you've actually had sex in a kitchen during your career?”

“Not unless you count pantries.” She closed her eyes again, resting her head against his chest. “Never in the cooking area.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” His voice rumbled against her ear as he pulled a blanket over them both. He wrapped his arms around her again, resting his chin on the top of her head. After a moment, she felt his muscles relax, heard his breathing slow.

Apparently, he was going to stay the night. She snuggled close again, letting his warmth enfold her.

But as she let herself drift off into a semi-doze, she couldn't stop herself from wondering,
what happens next?

Chapter Eleven

Lizzy managed to wake at the usual time, although she'd forgotten to set her alarm. Apparently, having a strange man in your bed sort of screwed up your normal routine. Fortunately for the kitchen, her body had its own internal alarm after a month of getting up early every day.

Clark's arm was draped across her body, his hand resting on her shoulder. She glanced at him, smiling.
Stomach sleeper.
Her smile faded slightly. A stomach sleeper who was also her boss. Whom she'd gone to bed with after a very brief acquaintance. This represented a series of complications she wasn't ready to think about yet.

She rolled carefully toward the edge of the bed, trying not to wake him. After a moment, he grunted in his sleep and turned on his side, pulling his arm away from her.

She told herself she didn't miss his warmth. After all, she hadn't been sleeping with anybody before this. And after this one night, she'd probably be sleeping single again. She'd just go back to the way she'd been before. Right?

She took a moment to study him. The sheet was twisted at his waist, exposing the upper half of his body. The planes of his chest were flecked with golden hair, echoing the golden stubble on his cheek. His arms and shoulders looked sculpted in the dimness of the room, the shadows picking out the lines of his muscles.

Yowzah.

Maybe with any luck, this wouldn't be a one-night thing. Maybe she'd get at least one more sleepover out of the deal. On the other hand, if it was strictly a one-night thing, she'd learn to live with it—no matter how much it stung. She treated herself to a long last glance, and then slipped out of bed and into the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later she was ready for work. Fortunately, finding a clean T-shirt in the dark hadn't been all that difficult. She slipped through the door into the hallway, closing it carefully behind her, then turned to see Colleen, the desk clerk, watching her with a raised eyebrow. Apparently, she'd just walked in from the parking lot.

“Good morning,” Lizzy said, almost too cheerfully.

Colleen looked at her watch. “It's definitely morning. I'll delay judgment on the ‘good' part of it.” She turned and headed up the hall toward the main desk.

Lizzy blew out a quick breath and turned toward the kitchen. Keeping this relationship quiet might be tougher than she'd thought, given the number of hotel employees wandering the halls at all hours.

Relationship? Is this a relationship, Lizzy?
That was another question she really wasn't ready to tackle yet. It was way too early in the morning.

Desi was already in the kitchen, filling his muffin pans with zucchini batter. He glanced up rather pointedly at the clock.

Lizzy shook her head. “Sorry I'm late. My alarm didn't go off.”
Largely because I didn't set it.

“That's okay. I figured you'd want to finish off the zucchini muffins at breakfast.” He gave her a slightly guarded smile. “They sold out yesterday.”

It took her a moment to figure out he was talking about the muffins in the lunch case. “Yeah, they did. People really liked them. Good job on those, Desi. We'll put the rest of them out today along with the bran and the blueberry. You can get started on those after you finish with the zucchini.”

She grabbed two sheet pans from the rack at the side of the room and started loading them up with bacon. She'd throw them into the oven for crisping, then keep them in the warming drawer until the dining room was ready to open.

A half hour later the basic breakfast elements were ready to go. Oatmeal was steeping in a soup pot on the stove to be transferred to the crock they kept on the serving line, bacon and sausage were being kept warm, and Lizzy was emptying the last of the fruit salad into the large stainless bowl they'd place on the cold table.

She also had two trays of hash warming in the oven. If it was popular, she'd increase it to three tomorrow.

She checked her watch—fifteen minutes until opening. She might have let herself sleep a little longer than usual, but it hadn't slowed her down that much.

And it was definitely worth it. Oh my, yes.

She heard the kitchen door swish open and turned to see Clark standing just inside. Her heart immediately gave a series of hard thumps. He never came to the kitchen during breakfast. But then he'd also never slept with the chef the night before. Or at least not with this particular chef.

His lips crept up into a grin that sent a quick jolt to her solar plexus. “Morning.”

“Morning.” She fought to keep from grinning back.

“About that new menu.”

She blew out a quick breath.
Back to business.
“What about it?”

He leaned against the counter, folding his arms. “When can you start?”

This time she did let herself grin. It was worth grinning over. “I'm starting with hash today, using some of the chicken we usually use for sandwiches.”

He nodded. “Okay, good enough. Let's roll it out slow, though. One or two new dishes on the weekend and maybe one or two more next week. Don't want to throw too much at people at one time.”

“Right.” She grabbed her chef's coat off the rack, buttoning it quickly. “Desi, we need to get the line set up.”

Desi was regarding the two of them with narrowed eyes, but he shrugged. “Sure. It's all set. I've got the first batch of scrambled eggs done, and the muffins are ready to go.” He opened the oven, pulling out the tins and tumbling the muffins onto a cooling rack.

Lizzy made a point of not looking at Clark. They needed to get the dining room ready to go, and she couldn't afford any distractions.

Clark definitely qualified.

She watched Desi carry out a tray of cooled muffins. As the door swung closed behind him, she turned. Clark stood directly behind her.

“Hey,” he said, running his forefinger down the slope of her nose.

Her pulse rate promptly jumped to max. “Hey.”

“I missed you. When did you leave?”

She shrugged, trying to get her respiration under control. “I had to get up early. I tried not to wake you.”

He grinned. “You didn't. You're some kind of breakfast ninja.”

The door to the dining room swung open again as Desi re-entered.

She felt her cheeks flush. Had he heard anything?

Clark stepped back a pace. “Okay, I'll get out of your way. I'll talk to you about the menu later.”

“Right.” She nodded quickly, keeping her gaze firmly on his collarbone. She figured if she looked into his eyes, she might lose it.

He gave her one more quick smile, then walked back through the kitchen door. Lizzy closed her eyes for a moment to pull herself together.

“What was that all about?”

She turned to the kitchen again. Desi was staring at her with raised eyebrows. Her cheeks grew warm again. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what new menu? I didn't know we had anything new except for the hash and the zucchini muffins.”

She blew out a relieved breath. “It's really pretty cool.” She glanced at the clock and grimaced—they were already five minutes late. “I'll tell you about it after breakfast. You'll like it, I swear.”

He gave her a slightly dubious look as she grabbed the bowls with her omelet fillings. It probably wouldn't take much to sell Desi on the new menu, but she could use the practice in persuasion. Some of their regular customers might be a little less flexible. She picked up the tray with the omelet fillings and headed for the dining room. Even if Desi didn't love it, she did.

My kitchen. My menu. My…something or other.
She wasn't quite ready to put a label on Clark yet. But she figured that would come. Definitely, that would come.

*****

Clark forced himself to return to his office rather than remain in the dining room. He had a legitimate excuse, of course. He really wanted to see how well the hash sold, particularly with people who came to the dining room regularly—the hotel staff and people like Ted Saltzman, who usually ambled over from the Blarney Stone for coffee and eggs.

But if he were honest, his main reason for staying in the dining room was Lizzy. Waking up in a cool empty bed had left him feeling a little off-balance. He wasn't used to being the one left behind. He was supposed to be the one doing the leaving.

Of course, he didn't usually spend the night either. In fact, last night had been the first time he could remember doing that in ages. He could justify it by the fact that he was in his own hotel and could have walked down the hall to his apartment if he'd wanted to.

But he hadn't wanted to. Which was a somewhat unsettling thing to realize, when he thought about it.

He spent an hour or so not thinking about it—lining up a plumber to replace the man they'd been using who'd moved to Castle Rock and going over the newest figures from his accountant, which showed a slight increase in guest receipts over last year at this time.

He wondered if his new chef had anything to do with the improved numbers, then shook his head. In spite of his efforts not to think about Lizzy, she seemed to sneak into his consciousness when he let down his guard. Which meant he should keep his guard up more.

He had a brief flashback—Lizzy's body, silver in the moonlight, rising to meet him. The feel of their bodies against each other, the rush of heat and sensation flooding his consciousness. He closed his eyes for a moment.

Not a good idea, Denham. Not a good idea at all.

None of it was a good idea. He'd never slept with an employee before. In fact, he'd never even wanted to sleep with an employee before. Clarice had bugged the hell out of him—there had been nothing remotely desirable about her. Colleen was a great woman, but she was old enough to be his aunt. Hell, Betsy was old enough to be his great aunt.

And yet he'd been aware of Lizzy from the beginning, had wanted to take her to bed from the beginning too.

Which meant he really needed to slow this whole thing down. An affair with somebody who lived down the hall could be a disaster since, given his track record, it was sure to crash and burn eventually. And when it crashed, he could be out both a cook and a lover. To say nothing of the embarrassment of having the rest of the staff find out he'd been screwing around with an employee.

Or you could have something better. Something you haven't had before.

He blew out a quick breath. That was always possible of course, but in his case the disaster part was a lot more likely. His relationships tended to end quickly and messily, just like his last date with Lauren. If he were smart, he'd keep his distance from Lizzy for a while.

If he were smart…

The thing was, he didn't feel like being smart right then. He wanted Lizzy, and he wanted her bad. That wasn't smart or practical or realistic. It just was.

He pushed himself up from his desk. At least he had a good reason to head for the kitchen—he needed to check on how the new menu had worked. The judges from Best of the Box would probably be dropping by within the next few weeks. Lizzy and the rest of the kitchen staff needed to have everything up and running by then, preferably running well. He had a lot of faith in Lizzy, but he didn't want to leave the whole thing up to her. He had some responsibilities in this contest too.

Plus he needed to see her. In fact, he really wanted to see her. He felt a brief itch of anxiety at the back of his neck, but he suppressed it. For once he was going with his gut instead of his brain.

He headed down the hall toward the dining room, nodding to Betsy as he walked in but careful not to slow down. The last thing he wanted right now was a conversation with anybody other than Lizzy.

She stood at her stove in the middle of the dining room, flipping a finished omelet onto a plate while a guy in cargo shorts and a sweatshirt watched her with absolute concentration.

“Here you go.” She handed him the plate with a professional smile.

“Um…great, thanks.” He looked as if he was trying to figure out how to segue from an omelet to asking her what she was doing after work.

Lizzy solved the problem by turning to the next guy in line. “What can I fix for you, sir?”

Clark stood at the side of the room, watching her create a spinach omelet with a few flicks of her wrist and another professional smile. It seemed absurd to be aroused by the sight of a woman in a chef's coat and black pants, particularly when she was working. Absurd or not, he suspected he'd be turned on by Lizzy wearing just about anything.

Or not wearing anything, as the case might be. He closed his eyes for a moment.
This distancing thing isn't working out too well for you, is it, Denham?

As if she could read his mind, Lizzy glanced up, her hand jerking slightly when she saw him. She managed to catch the sliding omelet before it could flop out of the pan completely, giving it a quick toss that flipped the side over neatly.

She handed the customer his plate without really looking at him, her focus on Clark. Her cheeks seemed slightly flushed.

She's blushing. Holy crap.
He didn't know how many years it had been since he'd seen a woman blush. Probably not since he'd passed puberty. He pushed himself upright and walked across the room toward her.

She seemed to have recovered by the time he was standing next to her.

“Good morning.” She smiled over her shoulder at him as she finished up with what looked like a ham and cheese omelet. Fortunately, the ham and cheese customer was the last one in line at the moment.

“Morning.” He managed to keep his grin from spreading to idiot proportions.
Distance, Denham, distance.
“How's the hash doing?”

She glanced toward the buffet line. “We're on our last pan. It's been pretty popular so far.”

He checked the dining room. It might have been wishful thinking, but there seemed to be more people at the tables than usual. “Good crowd.”