more sense it made. “Best-case scenario, I win back the man I was planning to spend my life with, after an appropriate period of groveling. Worst case, Cam and I stay split up, but I salvage my pride by making sure he knows I’m not wasting away and I pick up tips on being more seductive. Where’s the bad?”
“In Heath Jensen’s arms,” Gwen said darkly.
There, her roommate was wrong. Because being kissed by Heath had been very, very good. And that had only been a brief preview of his expertise. Her pulse quickened.
How much more of Heath’s sensual skill would she experience firsthand? She glanced across the room to where her phone was charging.
Only one way to find out.
ARMS AND BACK muscles straining, a bead of sweat trickling down his chest, Heath raised himself into his last set of pull-ups. It was tempting to use the buzzing cell phone on the nightstand as an excuse to quit the workout, but after starting high school as the shortest, chunkiest guy in the freshman class, he took his athletic regimen seriously. Staying in shape required effort, especially for someone who worked with—and enjoyed the hell out of—food. He glanced down at the phone. Unless it was someone from the restaurant, and therefore a potential emergency, he’d call whoever it was back.
But then he saw Phoebe’s name on the screen, and he almost lost his grip on the bar.
Dropping to his feet, he snatched up the phone. “Hello?” So I’ll do an extra set of reps tomorrow. No big deal.
“Hey.” Her voice was soft, tentative. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”
That depended. Was she calling to tell him she didn’t appreciate his meddling last night and that he’d better keep his hands to himself? “Just finishing up a workout.” He reached for his bottle of water. “What can I do for you?”
“Teach me to be sexy.”
Thank God he hadn’t opened the water yet. An announcement like that would have had him spluttering. His obituary in the AJC would read Restaurateur Drowns in Bedroom.
“Phoebe. Not to state the obvious, but you are sexy.”
“The word people use is cute.”
Stupid people, maybe. Not even a chef’s jacket and apron could hide those curves. And anyone who paid close enough attention to her mischievous smile would discover an alluring potential to misbehave. How did people miss it? Hell, he’d been trying to unsee it for months.
Maybe now he didn’t have to. For the moment, she was unattached. And he was no longer her employer.
“It’s not like I suffer from low self-esteem,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’m attractive, and I’m talented in the kitchen. But I’m not...you know. Va va voom.”
“Did you not look in a mirror before you left the house last night?” For that matter, was she oblivious to how aroused he’d been when she kissed him back? He got hard every time he remembered the taste of her mouth beneath his, the feel of her fingers in his hair as she tugged him closer.
“Eye makeup and a low-cut dress are superficial window dressing. I want a more meaningful makeover. I want to be exciting.” She lowered her voice. “Seductive.”
A more seductive Phoebe. God help him.
“If I take Cam back,” she continued, “I don’t want to worry that I’m not enough to hold his interest.”
Cam. Right.
Heath had been so busy picturing Phoebe as a confident seductress that he’d momentarily forgotten this was all to prove a point to her ex. Which was your idea, genius. He could hardly fault her for taking him at his word. Hadn’t he offered to help in whatever way she needed? She was, after all, one of his best friends.
“You suggested we pretend to be dating,” she said, “and I thought that while we’re spending some extra time together, maybe you could give me pointers.”
It was like the lamb asking the wolf to help make her more delicious. The noble part of him truly wanted to help her; the other 99 percent of him was preoccupied by the possibilities. For months, working alongside her, he’d been a gentleman—or, at least, his version of one. There’d been some playfully naughty banter, but he’d kept his hands to himself. And now she wanted to put herself in his hands and have him teach her about sex?
If he was a better person, he’d warn her away. “Are you free for dinner?”
“T-tonight?” The way she stumbled over the word made him wonder if she was already rethinking her request, or if she was just surprised he’d agreed.
“Yeah. I—” Reality caught up to him. He couldn’t miss work tonight. They were hosting some celebs in town to shoot a movie. He wanted to personally ensure that everything went smoothly and that service was stellar. As hard as he’d worked to make Piri successful, he had no intentions of slacking off now. They needed the extra profits to help bankroll a sister restaurant. “Wait, tonight’s no good.”
“Not for me, either. Sundays aren’t as busy as Thursday through Saturday, when we have the dueling pianos, but the weekly wine tastings are growing in popularity. I’ve got an entire dessert menu pairing chocolate and red wine.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“That could work. I go in on Mondays, but after I get the desserts prepped, I can probably leave. It’s our quietest night. Or if you want to wait a little longer, I have Tuesdays and Wednesdays off.”
No, he emphatically did not want to wait. Part of him was still tempted to talk her into calling in sick and coming over tonight. Before she came to her senses. “Then, I’ll cook you dinner tomorrow. It can be after eight if you need to help with the dinner rush.” By nature, he was a night person, and working in the restaurant industry had amplified that.
“Or you could come to my apartment and I can cook,” she offered. “I owe you. After all, you’re doing me the favor.”
Debatable. “If I come over, can you guarantee my safety? That roommate of yours would probably stab me with a salad fork the first chance she got.”
“Good point. At your place, we won’t be interrupted.”
Private seduction lessons with Phoebe.
He couldn’t have imagined a better fantasy if he’d tried. And he had a very active imagination.
* * *
“UM...” AMY HUANG, the apprentice chef, darted a nervous glance at Phoebe and then looked back at the crystallized mess that was supposed to have been caramel sauce.
Dammit. Earlier, the top of a limoncello sponge cake had collapsed, now this. Embarrassment prickled along Phoebe’s skin, and her fingers clenched around the handle of the pan. She was supposed to be teaching Amy, not demonstrating a showcase of what-not-to-dos.
“Guess everything they say about Mondays is true,” Phoebe said lightly, trying to contain the annoyance she felt over her
