Seducing the Sexy Celebrity Chef

Holly didn’t care if everyone
thought she was crazy—she was going to get more than just an autograph from
Chef Burley.

She’d arrived hours before the book
signing, thinking she’d be first in line.  She should have known better.  Every
horny housewife in town was queued outside the yet-to-open restaurant, drooling
for a taste of the sexy celebrity chef.

“I can’t get enough of Chef Burley,”
said one woman in the line-up.

“I know what you mean,” another chimed
in.  “Every time I watch his show, it gets me so worked up I pounce on my
hubby.  Poor guy doesn’t know what hit him!”

Holly hugged Chef Burley’s cookbook
tight to her chest.  As far as she knew, the sexy celebrity was single, just
like her.  Those women didn’t know how lucky they were, having husbands to warm
their beds.  If they realized their good fortune, they wouldn’t be hanging
around out here, discussing all the dirty things they’d like to do with the
chef.

When the line finally started to
move, Holly’s stomach dropped.  No, she couldn’t do this.  Come face to face
with the man whose presence, even on TV, made her ache with want?  No.  No way.

But she didn’t turn around.  She
didn’t leave.  As the line moved forward, so did she, step by step, until an
assistant asked her, “Who would you like your autograph made out to?”

“To Holly,” she said.

Without another word, the austere
assistant tore the cookbook from her arms.

She was still three side-steps away
from Chef Burley, but if she leaned forward and looked down the table, she
could see him.  He was right there, in the flesh!  They were breathing the same
air.  Unbelievable!

Holly bit her lip to keep herself
from squealing.  She always squealed when she watched his TV show—squealed, and
throbbed, and wished for just a few minutes alone with him.

When Holly’s turn came up, her knees
nearly buckled.  She’d worn a push-up bra, just for him.  Bending forward, she
let her low-cut blouse fall open.
For Chef’s eyes only!

Chef Burley looked up, and his eyes
bulged.  A playful smirk bled across his lips.  “Have you been waiting long?”

Holly giggled like a schoolgirl. 
Oh, his accent!  He was so sophisticated, so unlike the blockheads in this
town.  She wanted to grab his white chef’s jacket, pull him across the table,
and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe.

Instead, Holly tittered and chewed
her nail while Chef Burley scrawled his signature across the front page of his
book.  Every day on her way to work, she rehearsed what she’d say if she ever
met him.  Now he was right there, close enough to grab, and she didn’t know
what to do.

“Thanks for buying my book,” Chef
Burley said, looking her straight in the eye.  Oh, those baby blues!  They made
her feel faint.  “I hope you enjoy it, Sally.”

She giggled and nodded as a second
assistant handed back her copy of the cookbook.  Their gazes lingered while she
backed away. She was so besotted she just about walked into the drinks table.

Wait… had Chef Burley called her
Sally
?

Taking a glass of white wine, Holly
sat at one of the tables and opened her book.  Sure enough, the inscription was
made out to
Sally
, not
Holly
.  That assistant must have given
Chef Burley the wrong name.  She thought to go back, but she didn’t want to
make a fuss.  She was embarrassed, even though the mistake wasn’t hers.

The afternoon passed in a haze.
Holly leaned her elbows against her lonely table and gazed meekly at the
celebrity.  He was even more striking in person.  His blondish hair was styled
haphazardly, his face clean shaven, his features somewhere between chiseled and
boyish. She wanted to see his arms, his chest, his whole body, naked.  He was
right there, and yet worlds away.

“We’re closing up now,” one of the
assistants said, interrupting her hardcore fantasy of showering with the chef. 
“Thanks for coming.”

“Oh, but… sorry, I don’t want to
cause any trouble…”

“Hey, now.” Chef Burley walked over,
looking supremely concerned.  “What’s the trouble?  Sally, was it?”

Holly couldn’t believe he remembered
her name… even if it was the wrong name.  She told him about the mistake, and
saw genuine concern in his face.  He said he’d correct the error.  If she gave
him her address, he’d send her autographed copies of all his books.

Holly couldn’t help herself.  She
sprung up from the chair and wrapped her arms around his neck, saying, “Thank
you, Chef.”

Once she’d pressed her body against
his, she couldn’t move.  Her breast swelled against the solid plane of his
chest.  Her whole body felt full, warm and tingling.  She just wanted him to…
take
her
.

“I can finish up here,” Chef Burley
shouted to his staff.  “Good job, everyone.  You can be off now.”

Holly tucked her head against the
chef’s shoulder while they left.  She knew exactly what those people were
thinking, and it wasn’t complimentary.  But, oh, the scent of Chef Burley’s
skin sent her to heaven. The smell of a clean man, mixed with cloves and hearty
meats, made her want to lick him all over.

“Now, then,” he said once the place
had cleared out.  “How do you like my new restaurant?  It hasn’t launched just
yet.”

“It’s nice.”  Holly could feel his
breath on her cheek, and it made her weak.  “Chef, I love your show.  Some of
my friends say you’re mean when you’re helping other cooks, but I know it’s
your passion talking.  You really care about people, even people you’ve just
met.”

“That’s very true.”  He pressed his
large hands into the small of her back, holding her against his big body.  “I
care about
you
, for instance.”

Holly jerked her head back, feeling
her cheeks flush.  “You don’t.  You’re only saying that.”

“The world is full of liars,” Chef
Burley said, looking boldly into her eyes.  “I’m not one of them.”

Before she could say another word,
his lips were on hers.  He pressed his mouth firmly to her mouth while he ran
one hand all the way up her back.  It settled at the base of her head, warming
her neck as it caught her hair.  She was so stunned she didn’t react, at
first.  When she felt his tongue prying open her teeth, she felt sixteen
again—never been kissed.

Despite her innocent reluctance,
Chef Burley’s hot tongue found its way inside her mouth.  This was high romance
mixed with sheer heat.  It was a fairy tale that wouldn’t involve just a magic
kiss—it would end with him tearing her clothes off and fucking her hard without
leaving this gorgeous restaurant.  She hoped the last person out had locked the
front door.

Holly kissed the chef madly,
climbing him like a tree.  She should be ashamed of herself, but she wasn’t. 
When would she ever get another opportunity like this?

“You’re my fantasy,” she panted
while he kissed the length of her neck.  “I watch you on TV and imagine you in
my bed.  I bet all the girls tell you that.”

“I don’t care about all the girls,”
he growled.  “All I care about is
you
.”

“You probably say that to everyone.”

“I don’t say that to anyone.” 
Digging his fingers into her bottom, Chef Burley boosted Holly onto the table. 
“But believe what you will.”

“Why me?” she asked.

Rather than answering, he ripped
open her blouse. Holly shrieked as buttons flew across the dining room.  Her
bra was exposed, and her breasts swelled in the white lace cups.

Chef Burley looked her straight in
the eye.  She believed him when he said, “I don’t know why, Holly.  From the
moment I saw you, I just… I don’t know.”

As he went back to his fevered
exploration, her whole body ached for his mouth.  She couldn’t hold out any
longer.  Grabbing his coat with one hand, she said, “You don’t need to explain
it.  Just show me… show me hard!”

He growled as she pulled him
closer.  When their mouths met for the second time, it was fireworks.  His
tongue whipped against hers, battling for supremacy.  This was exactly how
she’d imagined his kisses: hot, hard, like he was barely in control of his
actions.  There was something about the chef that inspired fear in her, and in
everybody, because you never quite knew if he was about to crack.