I don’t want you to think I’m mixing business with pleasure.”
Pausing, she dug her bare bronze toes into the soft white sand. “And which did we say this was again?”
She made a back-and-forth gesture between them with her finger, referencing the definite spark of connection that linked them.
He drew close to her, near enough to catch a slight whiff of her fragrance beneath the earthy aromas of the kitchen that still clung to her. “I don’t know about you, but I decided this is definitely pleasure.”
She nodded, a curly strand of her dark brown hair brushing against her cheek as she did. “Then maybe we could forget the business aspect of this relationship altogether so we don’t have to worry about it. I’ll be the first to admit I don’t know a damn thing about the newspaper business, but is there any chance you could hand off the story on Club Paradise to another reporter?” She drew an idle pattern in the sand with her toe. “I’m not just the chef in charge of overseeing the restaurants. I’m also a part owner in the corporation that runs the whole property, so if we were to, you know…take many walks on the beach together, it could get a little awkward.”
Did she really say what he thought she just said? “Part owner?”
“The controlling partnership is divided among me and three other women.” She met his gaze with a straightforward honesty too rare in people according to his experience.
He’d read all about the split ownership in his research, and knew a little bit about it from letters he’d exchanged with his aunt. He didn’t have a chance to mention it before Giselle hastened on.
“Two of us were working at the club last year when the former owners absconded with the profits, and the other two women who joined us were connected to the old partnership. We pulled together to keep the business afloat and create something bigger and better.”
Ah, damn. All of which he’d gleaned from the old articles he’d printed off on Club Paradise. Even though he’d never actually met his sort-of distant cousin Brianne to quiz her about the resort, plenty had been written about the embezzlement scandal attached to the hotel’s former incarnation as a popular couples resort.
But he’d been too furious about an assignment he’d considered beneath him to really pay much attention to the names of the key players.
Apparently he’d started off his job by drooling over one of them.
“That might be a problem.” For the first time in his journalism career, he knew a moment’s regret at having so thoroughly aggravated his editor. “I definitely don’t have the option of handing off this assignment.”
A fact he regretted all the more the longer he stared at the amazing woman in front of him. A guy didn’t stumble into a walking sensual feast like Giselle Cesare every day.
“But you don’t have an ethical problem with hanging out with me, even though you might have to write about the restaurant, right?” She edged forward a bit, her lips suddenly much too near his own for any rational thought to actually take place.
“No.” Of course there wouldn’t be an ethical problem if he wrote a simple freaking piece on the food.
Unfortunately, he’d never written just a simple story on anything in his entire career.
“Then there shouldn’t be any problem if I decided to do this…” She stretched up on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, planting her mouth to his in a kiss that would have set off fire alarms if they’d been indoors.
3
FOR A WOMAN WHO HAD BUILT a career around understanding all the subtle nuances of taste, Giselle marveled that she couldn’t quite define the exquisite flavor of Hugh’s kiss.
She’d been dying for a drink from his lips since the moment she’d laid eyes on him, and had finally flung herself in his arms for lack of a better strategy. Now that she was right where she wanted to be, she struggled to identify the darkly complex taste of desire as intoxicating as any burgundy wine. Her knees swayed at the onslaught of sensation, and she held on to him for dear life on the quiet stretch of South Beach that didn’t normally see much action until noon.
Lucky for her, she and Hugh were changing that in a hurry.
“Giselle.” He murmured her name against her mouth, levered himself away from her by a fraction of an inch.
She couldn’t seem to clear her head enough to answer. In fact, the only response she could think of involved more mind-drugging kisses. So she simply waited and tried to remember how to breathe.
“You’re sure you’re okay with this? With me? The article?” He lifted a hand to her cheek and skimmed her jaw with his palm. His fingers toyed with a stray dark curl.
“I’m very fine with this.” She had faith in her abilities as a chef, and the more she talked to Hugh the stronger her impression that he wouldn’t use his position to hurt her or her business. “I think we can work around the article and not let it interfere with—” she sidled closer, allowing her thigh to graze his. Heat streaked through her like a flash fire “—what we both want.”
He caught her hips in his hands, steadied her when she would have fallen against him. He closed his eyes for a long moment, providing her with a secret thrill. Feminine intuition told her she was testing the man’s restraint and, damn, but she liked that idea.
“Maybe you should make that decision after you see the article.” His green eyes bored into hers. Intent. Serious. And maybe a little worried? “I wouldn’t want you to ever regret having been with me.”
Normally, when a man tried to protect her from anything, Giselle’s first instinct was to bristle. She’d been practically smothered to death by masculine attempts at protection in her family, so she didn’t usually appreciate it from anyone else. But the warm concern in Hugh’s eyes, the sincerity of his fear, softened any resentment she might have felt.
“How soon can you have your story written?” Patience wasn’t her strong suit on a good day. And this week she was operating on an even tighter schedule than normal given that one of her brothers would be back in a week.
Nico had sent plenty of her dates running. No matter that women thought he was gorgeous, something about his multibroken nose spoke volumes to other men and made them give him a wide berth. And, as a result, forced them to stay away from Giselle, too.
She didn’t want to wait around only to have Hugh flee.
His fingers slid along the silky fabric of her dress, whispered over her hips and up to her waist. “I can hurry up the process in this case. But it often takes me a few weeks to gather my research.”
“Weeks?” She’d been wondering how she could wait a few hours.
Hugh’s touch skated up her ribs, paused just beneath her breasts.
“I like to be very thorough in my work.” His thumbs drew idle circles on her ribs just below the hem of her bra.
“Oh, really?” Awareness flared through her, made her breath catch in her throat while her breasts tingled and tightened in anticipation.
Just looking at the man
