Aside from the radio playing in the background, the restaurant was silent. Edesia was always closed on Mondays. Today, however, Meagan Bissett had spent the afternoon working, preparing the dishes that she planned to put on the autumn menu. While she was happy with the presentation, the costings and profit margins, she still had to run them past the owner, Fraser Oxley-Nichols.
The heat that raced through her body when she thought of their meetings had nothing to do with working in the kitchen. She might be the name behind the award-winning restaurant, but he was the money. He had the final say…although she had to admit he usually sampled the food, checked the budget and gave his approval without requesting any changes. He trusted her when it came to the food. As long as she met his financial guidelines.
Meagan glanced at the large cognac and dark chocolate truffle that would be served with praline and vanilla bean ice-cream and had to admit that she might be pushing that expensive treat up hill. It didn’t meet the requirements, but it was only out by a smidge and it had luxury and decadence written all over its recipe.
She wiped the sauce off the edge of the entrée seafood platter she’d prepared and carried it out to the table that she’d already set for two. It was the table they always sat at, out of view from the windows at the front. Private. From her black pants she pulled out a lighter so she could light the candle that lit up the table’s centrepiece. She didn’t need to do that, but it was part of the presentation. Plus Fraser wasn’t just any man. He was sin in a three-piece suit.
Her heart gave a flutter that had nothing to with nerves about serving up her new creations. No, it was pure desire. Every time he walked in here he made her feel like she was an apprentice who didn’t know which end of the whisk to hold.
She gave herself a shake. She was a married woman…not that she was wearing her rings. She never did when she worked. Would he take that as a hint? She should be sensible and put them on before he got here, but they were nice and safe in her handbag.
Meagan went back into the kitchen and plated up the two mains. It was a waste of food when neither would get fully eaten, but she couldn’t show the owner half a meal. He needed to see what people would be paying for.
Her head snapped up at the sound of the front door opening.
Damn it. Fraser was early. Her chef’s coat was with her handbag at the front of house, which meant he’d see her in a black tank top and cargo pants—hardly the image of a professional chef at the top of her game.
“Service,” he called out. His voice sent a shiver through her, and she had to remember he was talking about the food.
She placed a delicate curl of vanilla ice-cream and a shard of praline onto the plate with the oversized truffle, and then carried out the three plates of food. The dessert, a vegetarian main and a beef and pasta main. Dishes that would suit the cooler weather. She concentrated on her steps, not on the man lounging at the table, his legs stretched out and the jacket of his blue pinstripe suit slung over a nearby chair. His white shirtsleeves were rolled up, but his waistcoat was done up. He always looked immaculate.
She looked like a bare-faced housewife.
Double damn it. She should’ve put on a lick of mascara and a touch of powder. If he hadn’t have been early, she would’ve.
“What have you got for me today?” He didn’t move, just glanced at the plates as she put them down.
“These are the substitutions for autumn.” From her back pocket she pulled out the calculations she’d done and she placed them on the table. He never liked to taste the food without knowing the details. He liked all the facts. When it came to money he was smart. But then, he hadn’t got to where he was in life by being as dull as a spoon. His wedding ring glinted in the soft lighting. She swallowed, but couldn’t take her gaze off his hand. His fingers were beautiful and unmarked. She put her own hands behind her back. They were covered in fine scars from too many years working her way up through the kitchens of too many restaurants.
It was because of Fraser this place was hers.
Fraser pulled the paper toward him. He read through the numbers, his gaze flicking between the meals and the paper. She knew the moment he reached dessert. His dark eyebrows drew a fraction closer.
“Taste it before you complain.” She straightened her shoulders and sucked her stomach in, but there was nothing she could do about the way the extra post-baby kilos had added to her bust and butt. He was here for the food, not the view, she reminded herself. This was business. But she knew that was a lie.
“What is the point in tasting something that breaks the profit margin?”
“By fifty cents.” It was nothing…okay, that wasn’t true. “We can put the price of dessert up to cover it.”
“Then people will baulk at the price.”
“Then we take the hit and collect the good gossip.” She’d prepared all the arguments, but expected to lose anyway. She’d never gotten a meal that didn’t meet his requirements through, but that didn’t stop her from trying occasionally. And this dessert was gorgeous.
He looked up at her. His eyes as blue as his suit. “Use cheaper chocolate or cognac.”
That was a trap. She laughed. “You don’t cook with what you wouldn’t eat or drink. You should’ve been here when I made it originally. I’ve already cut the price.” Her first attempt had been with the end of a four hundred dollar bottle from the bar. She’d known that would never get off the ground, but the taste combination had been a winner. She’d already compromised, now it was his turn. “Taste the dishes before they get cold.”
“Sit and join me, Meagan.”
He used her first name, not Chef. But then, these meetings were never formal. They’d known each other too long for that.
The setting suddenly seemed too intimate for what should be a business meeting. The soft lighting gleamed on the dark wood of the empty tables around them before fading into shadows. The silence of a restaurant that was usually bubbling with conversation reminded her that they were completely alone and no one was expecting either of them to be anywhere but here. The candle flame flickered on the table set for two. It was never just business between them and never had been. She had money now, she should just buy him out, but she hadn’t.
“I already know what everything tastes like.” She’d sampled the meals many times as she’d experimented with different things, adjusting the recipe and making sure it could be replicated.
“I like company while eat.” He smiled and her stomach flipped over. It wasn’t right that one man could be so smart and good looking.
She sat opposite him, feeling just a little plain compared to his elegance. His watch flashed in the light. Simple yet expensive. Nothing said he was worth millions, or that he had a fancy house in Bellevue Hill, at first glance.
He had the kind of wealth that as a kid growing up in Bendigo she could only dream about. Her parents could never have afforded to eat in a place like Edesia. When they’d come to visit she’d invited them, given them a great table, yet they’d been so out of place. Exactly how she’d been less than a decade ago.
“So, everything else going well?” He took a few bites of the entrée.
“I want to include another local winery. I’ve already spoken to the owner and made the arrangements.”
Fraser lifted an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. That small move conveyed everything.
“Oh come on, I don’t have to run every small thing past you. You have better things to do with your time and I know what I’m doing. This place is a success by any standard.” It was her name that had made it the success, but without his cash it would’ve never happened.
“And I want to keep it that way. This is the proverbial golden goose.”
Yeah, and she had the bank account to prove it. “Fine. I’ll forward you the details of the new winery.”
“We could go and visit.” That smile again.
“Yes…and just how often does your schedule align with mine?”
His smile faltered. “That was harsh.”
It was, but it was also true. “I’ll make sure you get some sample bottles.”
He nodded and offered her a forkful of prawn entree. She obligingly took it. There was no need to annoy him; after all, he still needed to approve the menu change.
“I like this, a lot.” But he edged the plate away without finishing the food.
“Good.” She’d known he would.
He moved onto the vegetarian main—that wasn’t his thing. She had yet to create something meat-free that would dazzle him, but she put that down to him being a man. Beneath that suit was a rugby-loving guy. She tried not to think about what else was under the suit. He nodded his approval but offered no comment, before sampling the pasta and beef dish. He ate a little more of that and she bit back the smile. She knew him too well.
He offered her a bite of the beef. “You should eat some.”
“I’ve been tasting these meals for the past two weeks. I’m over them.” She wanted to move onto the next thing. The new business venture was never far from her mind. She wondered how his search for a venue was going but didn’t ask. One thing at a time. They could talk about Footprint later.
There was that frown again. “You still need to eat.”
Not really, she still had six kilos to lose. “I do eat.” But eating this stuff every day was why she hadn’t lost the weight. It was so much harder after the second baby, plus being that little bit closer to forty.
His gaze drifted down to her breasts; pulling the front of her tank up would’ve been too obvious so she sat still. Could he see the top of her lacy bra? His gaze drifted back up. “As always, I think you look lovely.”
Charmer. But she smiled. It was hard not to when he was looking at her like she was the next dish he desperately needed to try. “I bet you say that to every woman.”
“Only the ones who need to hear it.” He brought the dessert closer and looked at it as though he didn’t want to like it.
He hated it already because of the profit margin. She should’ve fudged the figures and then told the truth after he loved it.
“Why this dessert?”
“Why not? I wanted something rich and sinful.” Heat rushed to her cheeks and down her neck as soon as the words were out of her mouth. That was exactly what being with him was like. And he knew it.
He laughed. “Is that right?” He picked up the spoon. “You made the ice-cream.”
She tilted her head and raised both eyebrows. Really, did he need to ask that? “It was created for this dessert.” It wasn’t quite a simple vanilla ice-cream.
He tasted that first, then the praline, before finally getting to the point…the chocolate ball three times the size of a normal truffle. “Any surprise filling I should be aware of?”
“Just try it.” She might’ve moved a little closer to the edge of her seat. Would he love it enough to let it through? She was definitely not holding her breath, but she was also not giving up.
She’d let the truffle warm up a little so that it would be smooth and creamy. She knew exactly what it would taste like. The seventy percent couverture chocolate was full of flavour without being bitter and would be balanced by the cognac. She knew if used cheaper of either, something would be lost.
She’d grown used to the finer things in life without even realising. Her tastebuds wanted excellence, not average or near enough. Ten years ago she’d have cooked this stuff but could never have afforded to eat it. A chance meeting with Fraser had changed that. He’d spun her life in a direction she could never have imagined…no, that wasn’t true. She had dreamed of expensive restaurants, book deals and guest spots on the TV, but she hadn’t expected it to happen. She hadn’t planned on sleeping with a man who had connections and the capital to open the right doors.
Without him she wouldn’t be sitting here. Sometimes it burned to know that her success was because of him. She might’ve been good enough to get his attention but the professional kitchen was still very much a man’s domain. The irony wasn’t lost on her. At home, where it was unpaid, cooking was women’s work, but add money and prestige and men were all over it. Without Fraser she wouldn’t have broken out.
He brought a spoonful of the truffle to his mouth, paused and looked at her. “Do you have a backup plan?”
“No, because I’m not going to need one.” She gave him a cool smile.
He liked confidence. If she’d have said yes, he’d have put that spoon down and asked to see the alternate dessert. Of course she had one, but she hadn’t made it for today. It was her restaurant and damn it, she wanted this dessert on the menu.
He nodded and sampled the chocolate concoction. For several heartbeats he didn’t say anything. Then he moved the plate toward her. “Do you honestly think it’s worth either increasing the price or breaking our rules about profit margins?”
Shit, he hated it. He hadn’t liked everything she’d added to the menu, but as long as he could see the potential and that other people would like it, and it met his financial criteria, it went through. At first she’d discussed her ideas with him, but as she’d grown in confidence and had gotten to know her business partner better, now she simply cooked what she wanted and presented the finished product for his opinion.
“Do you think I would’ve presented it to you if I didn’t?” She couldn’t keep the annoyance out of her voice. Maybe she should’ve bought him out, then she wouldn’t have to deal with this…yeah, but she liked the excuse to see him and she liked that he had the best interests of the restaurant at heart. It was also nice to know that someone else was taking care of the financial side of the business while she handled the actual running, the food and the staffing.
“Yes.” He lifted one eyebrow in challenge.
“It is my name that brings people here, not yours. My food. My restaurant.”
“My money.” Something she was never able to forget. “My rules.” He tapped the paper with her neat columns. There was a glint in his eyes, as though he was deliberately goading her.
Meagan picked up the truffle and threw it at him. Her eyes widened as she realised what she’d done. Then the chocolate ball was in his hand, caught perfectly before it could reach his face.
For a heartbeat neither of them moved. She shouldn’t have done that, but he knew exactly how to piss her off. Waving that fact, that it was his money, was like waving a red cape at a bull. She needed to work on her gratitude, but how long should that last; two years, four years? Surely by now it shouldn’t matter, when they were both pocketing the proceeds.
He brought the truffle closer. “This smells divine.” It had been sitting out so it would be the perfect temperature for eating, not cold and hard, but not so soft as to be mushy either. Now in his warm hand, though, it would be melting fast. He took a bite from the ball in his hand, leaving a smudge of chocolate on his lip until he licked it off. “And it tastes pretty good.”
“Pretty good?” She stood up. “Edesia has two chef’s hats. It is one of Sydney’s best fine dining establishments. My cooking isn’t pretty good. It’s fucking awesome!”
Fraser stood up, still managing to look perfectly in control and calm even though he was holding a slowly melting chocolate truffle in one hand. “I love that spark you get in your eyes when you are angry.” He tossed the truffle to her.
She caught it and fumbled the now sticky ball before placing it on the plate. “So you deliberately insulted me?”
“Someone has to keep your massive chef ego in check.” He ran his fingers over his wedding ring then slowly drew it off. Chocolate smudged the white gold as he placed it on the corner of the table. “Perhaps you should show me how much you want that dessert on the menu.”
He met and held her gaze in obvious challenge. The corner of his mouth turned up in a knowing smile. He had her in a corner. She’d never been able to resist him and she hated to back down in an argument.
She stalked toward him and gripped the edges of his waistcoat, lifted onto her toes and kissed him. His mouth was hot and sweet, the taste of cognac still on his tongue. She was hungry, but not for food.
His hands cupped her face, chocolate sliding over her skin. “You ruined my suit.”
“Then perhaps it would’ve been cheaper to let me have the dessert.” She wanted to kiss him again. Her heart was thumping hard and it wasn’t just the chocolate that was melting; any resistance she might have had was gone. She wanted to do more than kiss him.
“I’ll let you know when the dry cleaning bill comes in…I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.” His fingers pushed into her hair. “You are going to have to do better than a kiss.” He tugged on her hair, forcing her to her knees.
Her fingers slid down his waistcoat, leaving more marks, but she maintained eye contact, refusing to let him think that she was beaten and would submit—he liked the spark of anger, that is what she’d give him. He wouldn’t see how much she wanted this. He didn’t need to know that this meeting had been on her mind all afternoon and that she’d looked forward to being alone with him.
The raw lust in his eyes surprised her though; the blue was dark and dangerous like a stormy sea. She’d understood the lust years ago, before she married, before two kids had altered her body. That it was still there was like a shot of strong liquor. It burned and tingled in all the right places. She wanted him and here she could have him.
Her hands slid lower to his pants, knowing this suit cost more than most employees earned in a month, probably two. She swallowed as she traced the ridge of his erection. “Just damaged your pants too.”
“Then you’d better make it worthwhile.”
She tried to draw away but his grip on her hair was firm. He was smiling, daring her to call an end to this game. All she had to do was agree the truffle was off the menu and that as owner he got the final say, no matter how famous she became.
But she enjoyed these little arguments as much as him.
It was why they always had a private meeting. She flicked open the button and dragged down the zipper. In the quiet of the empty restaurant it was too loud, but her stomach tightened in anticipation. She was sure her panties were getting damp.
His fingers made small circles against her scalp, but he didn’t pull her closer; he was watching her, waiting.
“Perhaps you should be the one on your knees, thanking me for making Edesia such a success.” She tugged his briefs out of the way, freeing his cock. It jutted forward toward her mouth.
“I’ve agreed to the second restaurant.”
She’d presented the idea and he had agreed after some discussion—she remembered that meeting all too well—although the location was still up for debate. Again, she could’ve found another backer or taken the risk herself, but neither had appealed. She knew him and they worked well together. Footprint would be their next success.
This time he used the pressure of his fingers on her scalp to draw her closer, close enough that the tip of his cock brushed her lips.
She licked the slit in the hot, smooth head. “Enough?” She knew it wouldn’t be, but she wasn’t going to make this easy. That would be no fun.
“I’ll let you know when it’s enough.” There was a definite glint in his eyes. He was enjoying this, perhaps too much. “Unless, of course, you concede?”
Never. She wrapped her fingers around him, stroking his length before taking him into her mouth. It had been a while since she’d done this. At home it was simple and quite often rushed, trying to squeeze it in before the kids realised what their parents were up to. This was different.
She could take her time. Caress his cock with her tongue and lips, swallow his length and suck as she eased back. While his fingers remain firmly in her hair, he didn’t take control; it was, however, a reminder that he easily could if he wanted to. That thought sent a tingle of excitement through her body.
As she worked he shifted his stance, his hips moved in time with her touch. When she glanced up he was still watching. For a moment she held his gaze. Her tongue circled the ridge around the head; her lips caressed the sensitive skin as though she was sampling some exquisite candy. The salty taste of his arousal coated her tongue.
Would he let this go all the way?
Desire heated her blood. She wanted him, to feel him inside her. Her core clenched. He’d stop…wouldn’t he? She could stop this. Instead she took him deep into her mouth, his grip tightened for a moment, then she drew back slowly, her gaze still locked with his.
How much would it take to make him come? Is that what he wanted this time, to see her swallow? It wouldn’t be the first time, but he’d never left her aching and unsatisfied. She was determined not rush. This was time they stole from their real lives.
Her hand worked over his length and his breathing deepened. He was holding back, making her work for it.
Bastard.
But her panties were damp with excitement. It wouldn’t take much for her to come. A touch, maybe two. Would it be his tongue, his fingers or his cock?
She gave him another slow lick, aware that he was watching everything…and able to see straight down her ample cleavage. Her heart skipped a beat, surely he wasn’t thinking of that…of coming on her?
With a snarl he released her and stepped back.
She might have laughed at the sight of him so obviously dishevelled, his shirt untucked, his cock thrusting out of his pants and chocolate on his waistcoat, if it didn’t make her want to finish stripping him.
Heat writhed in her belly as the need to fuck him took over, but she waited. This was his game and he had control. He grabbed her upper arms and hauled her up, his mouth closing over hers with an intensity that shocked her, even though she’d seen it in his eyes.
That he could want her, overweight and looking so plain, was a powerful aphrodisiac.
His lips were firm and demanding, his tongue seeking hers out. She gave in, melting toward him. His hands slid from her arms to the edge of her tank. He tugged it up and then pulled it off. The delicate lace of her bra left little to the imagination. Her nipples were hard ruched peaks straining to break free. His gaze lowered and his fingers traced the edge of the lace, before gliding lower to circle one nipple.
“I should tease you the way you tease me.”
“I would’ve finished.”
“Would you?”
She would’ve, but she didn’t want to, not now. She wanted to feel his cock pressing into her pussy.
He reached around and undid her bra. It fell on the floor. That bra was part of a set that was worth more than she’d paid for her first car, and he’d barely noticed.
Yet she’d worn it in the hope that he would.
He pressed one finger into the truffle, then brought the finger to her breast and drew a line in chocolate to her nipple. “I won’t wreck your lingerie.”
Was he still upset about his suit? Perhaps next time he should wear jeans, although she knew they weren’t cheap and destroyable either. Her clothing was. It had to be. There was no way she was taking expensive clothes into a commercial kitchen.
He lowered his head to the chocolate and licked. “I’m beginning to come around to the truffle.”
“I knew you would.”
He gave a low laugh and licked her nipple once, before drawing it into his mouth. Her back arched and she gasped. His other hand was on her lower back, steadying her. The heat from his palm and the heat of his mouth tumbled through her.
When he kissed her again, there was no gentle caress. His teeth raked her lip as his fingers undid her pants and shoved them down her hips—he didn’t stop to appreciate the lacy panties beneath as they got yanked down in one move with her pants.
“Hands on the table.” But he was already turning her to face the uneaten food. The lopsided truffle mocked her. She shouldn’t have thrown it at him, but she didn’t regret it one bit. Not when it had started this.
She spread her fingers over the white tablecloth. His ring glinted in the candlelight. Behind her, he trailed his hands over her butt, then down the back of her thigh before tracing up the inside of her leg to caress the swollen lips of her sex. She shivered and it had nothing to do with being almost naked and cold.
He pushed two fingers into her slick core and her hips jerked. “You liked sucking my cock.”
There was really no point in denying so she kept her mouth closed. There had been something arousing about being on her knees, but it had been the way he’d watched her and wanted her. The way he wanted her now.
He removed his fingers and his hands gripped her ass cheeks. Her breath hitched as the head of his cock nudged at her entrance and then he thrust into her pussy in one hard stroke. She gasped, but he held onto her so she couldn’t move. He filled her completely, and for a moment she wasn’t sure she’d be able to breathe again.
Then he started moving. Slow deep thrusts that made her knees weak, her climax was so close. She just needed to touch her clit. Tension throbbed between her legs, his thrusts became harder. She moved one hand, but he caught it and pressed it to the table.
Now his body was against hers. The buttons of his waistcoat were cold as they pressed against her skin and his movements were shallower. She wanted to throw him off and go back to the hard possession that she’d had a moment ago. He kissed the back of her neck, his free hand slid around to cup her breast and pinch her nipple before going lower.
Her breathing became shaky as his hand moved over her wobbly tummy. The stretch marks might fade but the skin was never quite the same again. It was softer. She hated it. His fingers brushed over her mons then between her labia. When he touched her clit she jumped.
“Sensitive? Not getting enough?”
She closed her eyes. It never seemed like enough. “No.”
His touch softened to a gentle caress. He was barely moving inside her now. She wanted to feel him. She tried to move but was too trapped.
“You can move once you come.” His fingers kept moving as if they knew exactly what it was she needed. The tension wound tighter. “I want to hear you come.”
She whimpered, so close. Then her climax was racing through her body. He released her hand and, as promised, let her move. She met him thrust for thrust, her body still sparking with the aftershocks.
He groaned and pulled out. She glanced behind…he wasn’t done yet.
Fraser turned her around to face him, one hand around the base of his cock. “You need to finish what you started.”
What she had started? He’d been the one to take off his ring: game on.
Her legs were still shaking, but she dropped to her knees, her pants around her ankles. His cock thrust forward, ruddy and slippery with her juice. She swallowed, her heart bouncing high in her throat as she reached for him. Her hand glided over him, he was thick and hard and ready to come. It wouldn’t take much. With every touch his cock twitched.
“Your mouth.”
She tasted herself on him. He groaned as her mouth encased him. His hand rested lightly on her head, but this time he didn’t press. She sucked and took him deeper.
“Christ, you’re killing me.” He closed his eyes, his hips moving as he thrust into her mouth.
She cupped his balls and pressed the sensitive spot just behind. His hips jerked then her mouth was flooded with his salty cum. She swallowed and kept sucking and stroking until he was done.
After a moment he pulled away. His breathing was rough and he was looking at her as if he couldn’t quite decide what had just happened. Fraser tucked himself away and straightened his clothes, this time making no comment about the chocolate stains.
He helped her up, taking a last kiss before finding her bra and tank on the floor and handing them to her.
“You can put the truffle on the menu. Autumn only, then we reassess.”
“Okay.” She watched as he put his wedding ring back on. He paused to rub the chocolate off the metal, then he stopped as he checked the time.
“Damn it, I’ve kept you late. Didn’t you promise Eva you’d be home in time for bedtime?” And just like that, the game was over. Fraser was back into parent and husband mode.
They were trying to hold onto who they had been, when they barely had time to keep up with the present. She bit back the sigh and wished she could have him for a little longer before he was stolen away. Before she was dragged back to the demands of her life. When had they got so busy?
“Yes.” And she didn’t want to disappoint their four year old again. “I’ve got to clean up.” She pulled her tank on. There was a pile of dishes to be done and the table to clear and she wouldn’t leave the mess for someone to clean up at the start of their shift. By the time she got home, both of their daughters would be asleep. She rarely got to put them to bed. And while she knew the nanny would take care of it, she wanted to be there. She didn’t want to be one of those society mothers who let nannies raise the kids.
She started gathering up the plates. An ache between her legs and her mouth still tasting of sex.
Fraser put his hand on her arm. “Go, I’ll clean up. It’s my fault we ran late. You looked tired and I wanted to get business out of the way first.”
Then business had become pleasure, the way it always did when they got some time alone. And she wouldn’t trade it. She loved the little games they played. If they didn’t make the effort to schedule in time they’d never see each other…and if some of those meetings required a little role-play, well, that was something new they had discovered while trying to get their sex life back after two kids in four years.
“It’s okay.” It was her responsibility to clean up.
“No, go home, Meagan. I know how to do dishes.”
She hesitated. They were long past the time when Fraser had needed to do dishes. When Edesia had first opened they’d often been short of funds and short-staffed. His parents had warned him that restaurants weren’t a good investment and had refused to allow him to use family money, so he’d fronted the funds himself. There’d been many occasions when he’d worked in the kitchen washing dishes. To this day she was sure that no one knew the man they were shouting at to move it was actually the owner. He’d just knuckled under and done it.
Fraser wasn’t scared of hard work. It was one of the reasons he was so successful.
He leaned in and kissed her cheek. Then licked her skin; she’d forgotten about the chocolate on her face. “You know that truffle is really quite delicious. I felt really bad lying to you…but you arced up so nicely that I couldn’t resist.”
“I was just playing along.”
“Liar.” He whispered in her ear. “I’ll see you at home.”
***
After putting Eva and Tilda to bed, Meagan had taken a long shower. She needed to spend more time with the girls. They would only be little for such a short amount of time, but if she stepped away from the restaurant…restaurants…then everything else that went along with being Meagan Bissett, chef and businesswoman, would crumble. Even before Fraser had swept in like a prince from a fairytale to grant her desires she’d had to work hard and be better than the male chefs, just to get noticed. Even now she had to fight for every guest spot and she was still judged on her family and kids. Did the male chef’s kids ever get talked about? No.
She dried off and sucked her stomach in.
She needed more than three sessions a week with her personal trainer.
Did it matter if the male chefs were rotund? No.
She slipped in to nightdress, pale pink and slinky. She rubbed the fabric between her fingers. She was so far from the girl who’d travelled Europe on a shoestring, working under some of the best chefs. Her kids would never have to worry. They could chase their dreams and know that their parents had the funds to back them. Although Fraser had said that if either of them wanted to be a model, they were on their own. He expected them to use their brains the way he and his brothers had been forced to. There had been no family handouts until they’d proven themselves. Mr Nichols was a force to be reckoned with and his wife had been terrifying. The first time Meagan had met them she’d wanted to hide. But they’d loved her. The only thing they didn’t tolerate was laziness.
What would happen if she did stop?
She’d go crazy trapped in the house after two days. Arranging fundraising and charities didn’t excite her, although she often attended and contributed. Working was part of who she was.
She just needed a better balance.
“You look concerned.” Fraser leaned against the bathroom door, dressed in just his shirt and pants. She shouldn’t have put chocolate on his suit and yet she had to fight to keep the smile off her face at the memory. “You’ve changed your mind and decided we do need to remodel?”
She shook her head. “In a few more years. I can’t face it right now.” She knew some women who insisted on updating their house every couple of years. Their renovations were worth more than the house she’d grown up in. She still looked at money in terms of what she’d had growing up. That was her reference to normal. None of this was normal. It was extravagant and luxurious and she loved it…but sometimes it was like she was living someone else’s life.
He sighed. “Neither can I.”
“Do you ever think we are too busy?”
He frowned and looked away, a lock of dark hair falling over his forehead. “I feel that if I step back my life will keep going without me doing anything. After working for twenty years, I’m not needed.”
“That’s not true. I need you.” She slid her arms around his neck and kissed him. Not with the heat and lust of before, but the simple need to feel her husband in her arms for just a few moments.
“No you don’t. You are your own success.”
“And if I stop I will vanish into obscurity.” After tasting the fame and the adulation she didn’t want to lose it, not yet anyway.
“You can be obscure with me. We’ll buy an island and let the girls grow up wild while we do nothing but lie on a beach and you think up one hundred and one ways to cook with coconut and fish.”
That sounded tempting. No demands and no expectations, but she knew Fraser wouldn’t last any longer than she would. He needed be busy. “You don’t fish.”
“I’ll learn. It can’t be worse than golf.”
“Lessons going well?” Mr Nichols had broken his leg in a cycling accident and was wheelchair bound. He was annoyed to be missing the tournament and Fraser had been roped into filling in because his brothers were unavailable.
He growled. “Stupid little ball. I don’t understand what my father sees in the game.”
“It’s for charity.” She smiled, knowing he wouldn’t grumble at the event; there he’d be, all smiles and cash. He was ever reliable.
He sighed, “So I keep being told.”
“You’ll be fine.” She kissed him again and went to pass so he could use the bathroom, but he stopped her by putting his arms around her waist.
“Did you mean what you said before, about there not being enough?” His hand slid lower to squeeze her butt.
“Sometimes it feels like we are simply bumping into each other and not actually with each other.” She glanced away knowing that the problem could be solved if she stopped working—not that Fraser would ever suggest that. “I have to go to Melbourne for three days next week.”
“TV?”
“And interviewing for Footprint. But you could come down for a day or two?” She hoped he could. It would be a nice break for them both, even if she was working for some of it.
“Let me check.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened up his calendar. “If I shift two meetings I can. A day and a night all to ourselves…what will we do?”
“Probably sleep.” She’d be back just in time to take her turn hosting the biweekly dinner party for the women who formed her social circle—drawn together by privilege and money if not actual friendship.
He laughed. “I see you have a blank the Wednesday after…did you want to meet up? There’s that 1920s style whiskey bar we haven’t tried yet, it’s meant to be good.”
“You aren’t suggesting stockings with seams up the back and a shady detective, are you?” That could be an interesting game, and more importantly they could put the kids to bed and then go out and have some fun.
“I wasn’t, but I am so there. You want to lead that one?” He smiled, a devilish glint in his eyes, as if he was already imagining the things they could get up to.
“Sure.” All she’d have to come up with was a bit of an idea about what game they’d play, what she wanted and how best to lead him astray. Thinking about it was half the fun—on either side of the game. Expectation was a powerful aphrodisiac. As always, though, they’d meet up, and if one of them was just too tired they’d have a few drinks and go home. Taking their rings off always the sign that the game was on. But another date squeezed in at the edges wasn’t what she wanted. “Perhaps we should start booking in our time first, instead of waiting for meeting gaps?”
“We can do that.” He kissed her slowly, his tongue flicking over her lips before she opened her mouth to him. Desire rose slowly…perhaps they could fall into bed and extend the evening pleasure.
He drew her closer and she pressed against him, her nipples pebbling.
“I have a spare couple of minutes now, if you’re interested,” he said against her lips. He drew her closer so she could feel the length of his shaft pressing against her stomach.
“Is that right?” She wiggled her hips. Who needed a bed when there was a perfectly good bathroom vanity?
The sound of little feet running down the hallway and into their bedroom pulled them apart.
Fraser cursed. “I swear they can tell.”
“Oh yeah. They come with a parental mischief radar.” Sometimes it didn’t take anything more than a kiss and the vague hope that something would happen, other times they were halfway there—those were the worst—when one of the girls woke up.
“There’s tiger under my bed.” Eva clutched her toy bunny. Her hair was a blonde fluffy nest around her head and her eyes were wide.
By the time they got Eva resettled, they’d both just be wanting to sleep. As she picked up her almost four year old, she reminded herself that this bit wouldn’t last forever. She kissed her daughter and started calming her down.
“I’ll go and sort the tiger out. He knows he’s only allowed to sleep in the lounge room.” So far telling the tiger to get out had been the only thing that worked and even then it was hit and miss. There’d been more than one night when they’d woken up and Eva was in bed with them. At least Tilda was still in a cot and unable to roam the house. She kissed the top of Eva’s head, glad that her daughter came to her before the nanny.
Meagan smiled at Fraser’s back as he walked away. While they may not have much time for each other at the moment, what time they did have was precious, and they both knew that.
***
Meagan wiped her hands on the tea towel and gave everything a final check. She was as organised as she was ever going to be. As much as she liked all the girls coming around to her place, it was also nerve-racking. She knew some would be looking at the house, checking for stray toys or dust bunnies—all of which had been whisked away by the nanny and the cleaner.
The doorbell chimed and Megan checked her appearance in the large mirror in the hallway before answering. New haircut, new earrings. The cream linen shift dress smoothed over the imperfections. Another month, maybe two, with her personal trainer and she’d be back in shape. It was that much harder to do with the second child—but she was also older and busier.
“Jorja!” She leaned in and they kissed the air next to their cheeks. “You’re here first.” For which she was grateful. But she made the effort to arrive on time for Jorja’s turn too. Strength in numbers. Some of the women who’d been born with hundred dollar bills lining their nappies still kept the others at arm’s-length. Camilla was still struggling to find her feet in the circle.
“No kids and no Fraser?”
“He’s taken them to see his parents.” And wouldn’t be back until tomorrow—which gave her a sleep-in. She was looking forward to that more than tonight’s dinner.
“Mr Nichols still in the wheelchair?”
“Another two weeks.” That was the best-case scenario. Breaking his femur at seventy by stacking his bicycle wasn’t great. “Fraser has to fill in for him at a charity golf tournament. Neither of them are impressed with that.”
“I can imagine.”
Meagan poured Jorja a glass of wine, knowing it didn’t matter what she gave her, as Jorja wouldn’t drink it. It was a social prop.
She’d barely taken her first sip when the doorbell rang again and Emma and Willow filed in. Emma forced a smile. Meagan knew something was wrong but they had drifted so far apart she couldn’t ask.
Ten minutes later everyone had arrived. As usual, Lana was glitzed up to the nines making sure everyone knew she had money. Meagan had to admit that in the first few years it had been fun to dress up, but as she’d gotten used to the lifestyle—totally alien to the way she was raised—it had been easier to adopt a simple, classic look and spend the money on quality shoes, handbags and jewellery. She’d also realised that Fraser never made splashy shows. However, the price of his suits would make her father cringe. While once she’d never believed that tailoring mattered, seeing Fraser in his suits still made her heart take a little tumble.
“Whatever you are cooking smells amazing,” gushed Willow.
“You’re getting to sample some of the autumn menu for Edesia.” She knew Lana would probably pick at it, as she was fussy with everything that she put in her mouth, regardless of who cooked it.
Virginia gave her a cool smile. “And no doubt you’ve been cooking all day.”
Meagan could read between the lines of that backhanded compliment. Once it would’ve flustered her. Now she knew Virginia was looking for a bite. “Actually, no. I had one of the apprentices do all the prep work while I took the kids to the park.” It was nice to be just another mother at the park. Anonymous. “Before we get started, I have exciting news.” Meagan grinned.
“On my God, you’re pregnant again!” Emma’s face fell and she looked as though she was about to cry. She’d failed to get pregnant after having her first eleven years ago, and babies were a sensitive topic. Emma needed a focus in her life beyond her husband and her desire to have another child.
Meagan missed Emma as a friend; they had both struggled to fit into this group at first, and raced to reassure her. “No! We’re done with babies. We’re opening a second restaurant. We signed the paperwork yesterday to buy the property.” Fraser wanted that property regardless of whether she did. It was a sound investment, apparently. When it came to things like that she let him take the lead.
There were some congratulations, smiles and nods. About what she’d expected. Not all of them would be thrilled.
“And when are you going to have time for this new venture?” Nella sipped her wine with one perfectly manicured eyebrow arched up in question.
“I will be supervising, not actually cooking.” She was going to take her hands off the wheel…a little. Fraser had agreed with that decision. “I’ve already hired a top Melbourne chef for Footprint.”
Lana would’ve frowned if her face had that mobility. “Footprint? What kind of a name is that?”
“For a beachside, vegetarian place with paleo options. It’s perfect as we are planning to make sure it leaves a very small ecological footprint.” It was almost the opposite of Edesia. Again all the paperwork was done and the name was theirs. They always had the paperwork in place before announcing new ventures.
“Oh, so not fine dining?” Nella said with a sniff.
“No, more relaxed.” A place she could take her kids. Trendy, specialised and friendly. She liked new challenges, but she also had to remember to let go of the reins. She didn’t have to micromanage everything. That is why she hired awesome people. And if she repeated that enough times she might start to believe it. Stepping back was a good thing. She just had to look at what she was gaining—time with her kids and hubby.
“A book, two restaurants, two kids: it’s a wonder you have time for poor Fraser,” Lana said, her mouth turned into moue of mock sympathy.
To that, Meagan just smiled. She knew exactly how to have the perfect affair with her husband. While they may not spend as much time together as they used to, the time they did have was precious and the flame had definitely not gone out.
“Just make sure that if his eye starts to wander, you see Marc. He’ll nip and tuck all the right places.” Christa said with wink. “You do have that gorgeous nanny living here.” While Christa didn’t have that petrified look of a woman who’d had too much work done, her skin was a little too flawless for her years. A little life experience on your face was nothing to be afraid of. Maybe in another ten years Meagan would feel differently, but her career was built on what she did, not how she looked.
Meagan sipped her wine and wondered what Christa got up to when her husband wasn’t looking. That wasn’t the first time she had mentioned the nanny, and Christa had only seen her a couple of times.
However Meagan wasn’t worried about Fraser and the nanny. He’d complained more than once that the only thing he could talk to her about was the children, because they had nothing else in common. Fraser liked to be surrounded by smart people who were ambitious. That was why he’d pursued her ten years ago. He’d seen something in her and had wanted everyone else to see it too.
As she looked around at her social circle, some of them friends, some of them more tolerated acquaintances, she realised that she had made it. When she’d first joined this circle she’d been Fraser Oxley-Nichols’ working wife. They’d invited her because of him and she’d been on the fringes, like Camilla was now. She smiled at Drake Jackson’s young wife and vowed to make more of an effort to include her. There was no time like now to start.
She wandered over to join Camilla, Willow and Emma and listen to Darla’s dating woes. So far it had been one bad date after another. It made Meagan very grateful that she’d already met and married the man of her dreams.
“He was name-dropping the whole night.” Darla took a sip of wine.
“He just wanted to prove he was well connected?” Some people did that, but it also showed a level of insecurity to be doing it on the first date. Camilla was willing to give everyone a chance, or two.
Darla shook her head. “Oh, that I could’ve dealt with. No. He was naming the big name women he’s allegedly slept with.”
Emma scrunched up her nose. “Ew, like a résumé?”
The only thing worse than a man who got around was one who boasted about it. The women he had slept with would no doubt be mortified if they knew he was naming them.
Darla grinned at Emma. “Exactly. He thought I should be impressed by the list.”
“Then you’d be on the list,” said Meagan. For all the glamour and diamonds in the room, they were still a bunch of women getting together to gossip. Some things didn’t change, regardless of social status.
When she’d first picked up her knives, she could never have imagined where she’d end up. She was part of Sydney’s elite. She was a respected chef and celebrity in her own right. And she had a husband to enjoy that success with. Fraser had backed her dream and that was worth more than any diamond.