“Don’t mind me, you just keep doing whatever it is you’re doing.”
“I’m washing the bowls and utensils I used.” She’d tried to sound impatient, but her tone was more seductive than clipped.
“Used for what?” he asked, but he was much more interested in that little spot behind her ear that made her breath catch.
“I felt like baking.” She wasn’t even pretending to wash dishes anymore. Eyes closed, she’d tilted her head back and laid it on his shoulder.
“What do you feel like now?” He nibbled on her earlobe, then slid his hands under the hem of her shirt, traced the curve of her hips with his palms.
The steady, high-pitched beep, beep, beep of a timer rudely interrupted.
Damn.
Straightening, Kiera shook her arms free of bubbles, grabbed a towel sitting on the counter and moved to the oven. He watched her open the door and pull out a tray holding two coffee mugs.
His irritation at being interrupted shifted to amazement. A steaming dome of chocolate bubbled around the rim of the coffee mugs.
“I hope you like soufflé,” she said, setting the tray on the stove top.
Soufflé? He furrowed his brow. She’d made soufflé?
“You don’t have much in your cupboards or refrigerator.” She bit her lip. “But I found a few eggs, some sugar packets and pats of butter. I had the chocolate bar in my purse.”
He stared at the coffee cups in disbelief, still trying to absorb the fact that she’d actually made soufflé.
“It’s better hot.” She picked up a spoon from the counter and handed it to him. He scooped out a bite of the dessert and tried it, felt an explosion of chocolate pleasure on his tongue.
Good Lord. Too stunned to speak, he simply stared at her.
“I realize I should have left,” she rushed on, twisting the towel in her hands. “But it’s still a little early and I was worried someone might see me.”
“You baked this,” he finally managed. “In my kitchen.”
She shifted uneasily. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind?” He stepped closer to her, tugged the towel from her hands and tossed it on the counter. “Ahalf-naked, sexy woman makes me the best damn chocolate soufflé I’ve had in my entire life and you think I would mind?”
He pulled her into his arms, caught her small gasp with his mouth and kissed her. Not with the desperate hunger clawing unexpectedly in his gut, but softly, so softly he surprised himself. Her lips parted, warm and willing, her eyes fluttered closed.
“This is how much I mind,” he murmured against her mouth, felt her smile. “Miss Daniels, you are the damnedest woman.”
She stilled, then laid her palms on his chest and eased back, kept her gaze lowered. “Sam—” she paused “—Daniels isn’t exactly my last name.”
He could have told her he already knew she’d lied about that. He’d looked at her file the first day she’d been hired, and he’d also ran a search on her name. He’d found nothing that came close to matching any information she’d given on her application or even anything she’d told him. Except that Rainville, Texas, was famous for its bee festival.
He could have—should have—had her fired. Still wasn’t sure why he hadn’t. But he’d simply trusted his gut and looked the other way.
Standing in his kitchen, holding her, he could feel her internal struggle with revealing even this small piece of truth. As badly as he wanted to, he knew if he pushed her she might disappear as quickly as she’d shown up.
And if he knew anything at all, he knew he wanted her to stay.
“I’m sorry I lied,” she said quietly. “But I needed this job.”
He felt the cool slide of cotton when he ran his palms up her arms. “You’re rehired.”
“I can’t stay, Sam.” With a sigh, she dropped her hands to her sides. “Chef Phillipe—”
“I’ll handle Phillipe.”
Shaking her head, she stepped away. “It’s better this way.”
“Better?” He narrowed his eyes. “Better for whom?”
“For everyone,” she insisted. “The restaurant, the staff, the hotel. For you.”
He reached out and snagged her arms, pulled her close again. “Don’t tell me what’s better for me. What the hell were we doing here today?”
Blue fire sparked in her eyes. “What are you saying, that you think I slept with you so I could keep my job?”
“Of course not.” Hell, he didn’t know what he was saying. His hands tightened on her arms, but he could feel her slipping away. “Dammit, Kiera, if you run away every time there’s a problem—”
“Let go of me.” The fire in her eyes turned to ice. “Now.”
Swearing, he let go of her, watched her chin lift as she stepped back.
“You don’t know anything about me,” she said, shaking her head. “Nothing.”
“That’s the understatement of the century.” He hadn’t intended to sound sarcastic, but that damn stubborn streak of hers had put a crack in his hard-won patience.
Narrowing her eyes, she turned and walked toward the bedroom.
“Dammit, Kiera,” he yelled after her. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I’m leaving.” She shot him a cool glance over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll take the suite elevator down so no one will see me.”
“Did I say I was worried?” he snapped, clenching his jaw when she disappeared into the bedroom.
He started after her, swore, then stopped, raked a hand through his hair. Swore again.
No woman had ever made him feel helpless like this before. Made him feel out of control or cut off at the knees. He didn’t like it.
Not one damn bit.
He wouldn’t chase after her. If she wanted to leave, he told himself, then fine. She could leave. If she wanted to be so damn secretive, then that was fine, too.
He couldn’t keep her here against her will—well, actually, he probably could—but he didn’t want her that way. He wanted her to trust him. He wanted her honesty. She wasn’t willing to give him either one.
So when she came back out of the bedroom, her head high and shoulders squared, he let her leave, made no attempt to stop her.
Long after she was gone, the taste of her, a sweet mix of chocolate
