The Perfect Dish (7 page)

His laughter cut her off. “I know. I just wanted to hear you say it.” She rolled her eyes and he laughed some more. “Hey, turnabout is fair play.”

“Touché.”

He smoothed his hand down the muscled length of his thigh. “How
did
you get Shelby to agree to lunch?”

Meredith leaned one elbow on the arm of the chair and gestured with her hand. “I’m the first person she’s met who knows more about her situation than she does. I’m the gatekeeper.”

His forehead wrinkled. “The gatekeeper? What the heck does that mean?”

“I’ve been in her situation and not only did I live through it but I surpassed it. So for her, I hold the key to survival. In me she sees the possibility of life after death.”

“Just like your book title.”

“Yes.” She checked her watch. “I should go. You probably have things to do.”

“Have you eaten all those fireballs? I made another batch this morning. We’re going to start serving them with our after dinner coffees.”

She felt her cheeks heat and chastised herself for blushing. “I haven’t eaten all of them but I did have one this morning.” Why did confessing that make her feel like he was seeing her in her underwear?

“One?”

How did he know? “Maybe two.”

He laughed again, a deep throaty sound that vibrated into parts of her long ignored. “Well, that’s what they’re for. Be a shame for them to go to waste.” He dropped his feet off the desk. “Hey, you wanna go for a ride down to Gauchos with me?” He snatched a set of keys off the desk. “I need a unbiased taste tester to sample a few new dishes.”

“Gauchos?”

“Gauchos is my other restaurant. It’s a little more down home than Sedona.”

She didn’t really want to but it would be a good start to her plan. She hemmed a little, like it was a tough decision. “I guess so.”

Brilliant smile. “Great! You can leave your purse here if you want. I always lock the office.”

They rode the elevator downstairs. Kelly told Shelby were they were headed, then walked with Meredith out to the sidewalk.

She scanned the street. “Where’s your car?”

He grinned and pointed. “Right there.”

She stared at the shiny chrome beast parked on the sidewalk and shook her head. “That’s a motorcycle. I’m not getting on that thing.”

“That’s not a motorcycle, that’s a Harley Davidson Screamin’ Eagle V-ROD. A very sweet ride. Ever ridden one?”

“No.” Small tremors skipped down her spine. This was above and beyond.

He unlocked the helmet clipped to the machine. “Then you’re in for a treat.”

She backed away. “I am not getting on that thing. No way. They’re dangerous. You could die.”

He set the helmet on the seat, turned to face her and put his hands on her shoulders. “A smart woman once told me everything kills you sooner or later.”

“I prefer later.” The heavy warmth of his hands on her shoulders took the edge off her nerves.

His crystal blue gaze was impossible to look away from. “Mery, it’s perfectly safe.”

Mery
. The shortening of her name seemed like a very intimate gesture. Like he’d kissed her gently or cupped her cheek in his palm. She realized she was nodding. She hadn’t meant to agree.

“You’ll love it, promise.” He grabbed the helmet and handed it to her. “You wear the helmet. It’s a short trip. Next time I’ll bring an extra.”

She stared at her reflection in the shiny black finish of the thing. Next time? What in the name of all that was holy made him think there would be a next time?

He checked a few things on the bike, then swung a leg over and positioned himself in the seat. “You gonna put that on or admire yourself all day?”

Stall. Play dumb. Call a taxi.
She held the helmet out. “I don’t know what to do with it.”

He took it from her. “C’mere.”

She stepped forward. He set the helmet on his lap and crooked his finger for her to come closer. “All the way. I can’t reach you from here.”

Another few steps and the side of his leg touched hers.

He reached up, tucked her hair behind her ears then lifted the helmet and eased it over her head. “How’s that feel?”

She shook her head. The helmet twisted back and forth. “Should it be this loose? That can’t be good. Loose can’t be good.”

“It’s my helmet. It’s gonna be big.” He ducked his head and fiddled with the chinstrap. “That’s as tight as I can get it.”

The helmet muted the sounds of the city. She inhaled. It smelled like whatever he used on his hair. Sort of the outdoorsy scent of sheets dried in the sun. It suited him. Maybe this wasn’t so bad. “Now what?”

He winked. “Hop on and hold on.”

“Right now?” She swallowed. “This is a bad idea.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “‘Fraid putting your arms around me will be more than you can handle?”

“No.” That hadn’t actually occurred to her. New tremors traveled down her spine and into her thighs. “I just don’t want my brains all over the street.”

He knocked on the helmet, the dull thump-thump in rhythm with her rapidly beating heart. “This’ll keep the mess to a minimum.”

“That’s reassuring.” She gathered up her courage, rested her hand on his shoulder for support and swung a leg over the seat. As soon as she settled into the seat, she realized nothing separated her crotch from his backside but a few layers of denim. Her temperature started to climb.

“Put your arms around my waist,” he said over his shoulder.

With as little grip as possible, she slid her arms beneath his elbows. She didn’t know what to do with her hands so she interlaced her fingers and tried to relax. Two seconds later she noticed she’d just made a little tent over his crotch. She jerked her hands up and felt his sides shaking. He was laughing at her.

“Most girls wait until at least the second date to try that.”

“This is
not
a date,” she ground out. It was just supposed to look like one. Not that anyone would recognize her with a helmet covering her head.

“Yes ma’am, whatever you say.” He reached forward and started the bike. The machine beneath her roared like an angry beast. She squeezed her arms tighter around him. He shifted in the seat, pressing his backside further between her legs. He patted her hands, now safely positioned over his ribcage, checked the traffic and pulled out.

Every muscle in her body tensed as the bike moved. She pressed herself against him, not caring how much they touched. The steady vibration of the engine overrode her apprehensive tremors.

At the first stoplight, he rested a hand on her thigh and twisted to look at her. “You okay?”

She nodded, trying to regulate her breathing at the same time.

“You look about as okay as a treed ‘possum.” He gave her leg a little squeeze. “I promise you won’t get hurt. I’ve been riding bikes since I was nine. Haven’t had a serious wreck yet.”

Yet! She nodded again. “I’m okay.”

He turned back around, hooked his hands under her knees and pulled her a little closer. “Just a few more blocks.”

When they started up again, she tried to relax. After all, they weren’t going that fast. The view from the motorcycle was so different from a car. Everything looked closer. She glanced down. Including the street.
Don’t look down.
She concentrated on the people on the sidewalk. Nice handbag. Cute dog. Bad toupee.

She rested her helmeted head against his back. It was kind of nice, actually. The sun and the wind felt good on her skin and if she had to hold on to someone, Kelly wasn’t a bad choice. She smiled. If the girls could see her now.

Kelly maneuvered the bike down a side street and into an alley. He parked beside a door and turned the machine off. “We’re here.”

She took that as her cue to get off. Her legs shook even after she dismounted. He climbed off after her, then reached beneath her chin to unfasten the strap. She pulled the helmet off and shook her hair out.

“So? You survived, right?” He took the helmet from her and clipped it back onto the bike.

She made a show of feeling herself for broken bones. “Seems that way.” She gave him a half-grin. “I guess it wasn’t that bad.”

“Told you.”

Her skin tingled with the engine’s vibrations. “I feel like I’m still on the bike.”

“Hard to shake the feeling of something that powerful between your legs, isn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes. Lord, he thought he was funny.

“You get used to it after while.” He hit a button on his key chain and the bike beeped. “Thanks. It was nice having you back there.”

Her cheeks warmed and she twisted the sole of her shoe on the ground. What did you say to that?

“Mery?”

“Yes?” She looked up.

He stuffed his keys in his pocket. “I really want to kiss you again.”

The husky tone of his voice made her stomach flutter almost as much as his words. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“We’ll just agree to disagree then.” He took a step closer so there wasn’t a foot between them. “‘Cause I think it is.”

She shook her head, ready to offer a new defense but he stepped into her space and laced his fingers into her hair just like he had that night in the elevator.

“How ‘bout you decide afterwards?” He brought his mouth to hers, his touch at once gentle and insistent. He drank her in like a man dying of thirst.

She leaned into him for support, her legs too shaky to hold her. A warm liquid need spread up from her toes as he deepened the kiss. She braced her hands against his hard chest as his tongue teased with subtle strokes, bringing her to life.

Her head told her this should stop but her body thrummed with pleasure. Deep in her core, beneath the hurt of burying two husbands and the fear of letting another man in, she wanted this. She wanted to feel something that mattered again. To know that she was wanted.

Kelly did that in spades.

But her head prevailed. She broke the kiss and smiled gently, like she might at a child in need of correction. “We can’t keep doing that.”

He dropped his hands from her hair. “Don’t you mean
I
can’t keep doing that? I’m kissing you, you aren’t kissing me.”

She waved her hand. “You know what I mean.”

His mouth twitched with a barely suppressed grin and he grabbed her hand. “C’mon, you’ve got some tasting to do.”

Through the door they’d parked by, he led her into the kitchen. Several young men in black and white checked pants and chef coats bustled around carrying big lexan tubs of food. When Kelly walked in, they all greeted him with “Hi, Chef.” Kelly nodded and returned the greeting but didn’t stop. Through a second door and they were into another part of the kitchen. Kelly paused and spoke to a short woman with spiky red hair, also in kitchen attire. “Where’s JP?”

“He’ll be right back, Chef. He just ran to the walk-in.” The woman glanced at their intertwined hands before going back to the sauce she was making.

Aware of what their clenched hands must look like, Meredith pulled free. No need to give his employees any more to talk about than what they’d already seen. “Smells like a campfire in here. In a good way.”

“It’s the smokers.” Kelly tipped his head toward another door. “The smell just sorta takes over.”

A bald man in black-rimmed glasses came into the kitchen carrying two white tubs.

“Chevré for the chicken special?” Kelly asked.

The man nodded. “Yeah. It’s from that new supplier.”

“JP, this is Dr. Meredith Black. She’s volunteered to be our guinea pig.”

JP smiled. “Volunteered huh? I would’ve held out for at least minimum wage.” He held out his hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Meredith shook it and slanted a glance at Kelly. “Oh, he’s going to pay, he just doesn’t know it yet.”

Chapter Seven

JP placed the last dish in front of Mery. “Amarillo Sunset cheesecake,” he announced. Kelly grinned as she took the first bite. Still not a word about a diet. There was something undeniably sexy about a woman with an appetite.

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Amazing,” she mumbled around the mouthful. She swallowed and forked up another bite. “What is this again?”

JP smiled. “Amarillo Sunset cheesecake.”

She nodded. “But what’s in it?”

“We poach dried apricots in a mix of brandy and agave syrup with a touch of honey. When they’re soft, we take them out, puree them, add them back in to the poaching liquid, then cook them down to the butter stage. Once cool, the apricot butter gets folded into the cream cheese mixture.”

She took another bite. Kelly wondered if she was always this receptive to food. Women who ate nothing but salads and broiled, skinless chicken breast bored him to tears. Mery looked thoughtful as she downed the third bite. “There’s more to it than that, though, isn’t there?”

JP glanced at Kelly. “She’s got a good palate.” He looked back at Mery and crossed his arms. “I can’t tell you the rest. That’s Chef’s secret.”

“Oh really?” she asked, a note of teasing in her voice. “So if you tell me you have to kill me?”

JP laughed. “Yeah, we stick you in the smoker and serve you as the blue plate special.”

Kelly jabbed him in the shoulder. “JP, we haven’t smoked anyone since Jimmy Hoffa.”

Mery smirked. “Aren’t you a little young to know who Jimmy Hoffa is?”

“Ouch,” JP said.

“Sorry,” Mery offered. “Just forget I said that. So you really can’t tell me what’s in this recipe?”

Kelly ignored the Hoffa comment for the time being. “Nope, gotta sign a confidentiality agreement before I can divulge those sorts of things.”

“Hah.” Mery took another bite. She closed her eyes and seemed to be in serious consideration. “Some sort of spice or combination of spices. Something else, too. Something very familiar.” She opened her eyes. “Anise maybe? Vanilla definitely.”

JP held his hands up. “I got no comment.”

Kelly grinned. “Not bad. We add cloves and anise to the poaching liquid. There’s Mexican vanilla in the cream cheese base.”

She took one more small bite. “There’s something else you’re not telling me.”

“What are you, in league with the devil?” He shook his head. She got sexier by the minute. “We use
piloncillo
as a sweetener in the crust.”