“LADIES, I HOPE I can interest you in dessert.” Josh set two plates on the table between the four women and began handing out forks. “This is a new dish we’ve been working on and I need some expert opinions.”
The women eyed the two chocolate desserts with looks that said he wouldn’t be twisting any arms.
“It’s a chocolate espresso torte infused with raspberry liqueur, passion flower and something special I’m not giving away.” He grinned. “I’m thinking about calling it Exotic Erotic Experience.”
Vanessa, a stunning redhead around thirty with emerald-green eyes and a body that could stop traffic, was the first to take a bite. “Mmm,” she groaned. Her eyes rolled back as she slid her tongue along her full bottom lip. “I’d call it Better than Sex.”
Despite the wedding ring on her finger, Josh bent close and lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “If that’s better than sex, darlin’, I’d say you’re sleeping with the wrong man.”
He winked and the other three women roared with laughter.
“Maybe I am.” She flicked her brows.
“Tell Tony he better get his game on or I might have to steal you away.”
She slid a finger up his thigh then patted him on the ass. “I’d better not. You know how hot-headed he is. You’d be buried in the cellar before I could lift a finger to stop him.”
Josh feigned discomfort for the wife of his good friend, Tony Sacco, a winery owner out in Napa. “You’re probably right. Let it be our secret.”
“This is seriously good, Josh,” said Alison, the thin brunette sitting next to Vanessa. “If it’s not on the menu, it needs to be.”
“That’s exactly what I was hoping you’d say.” He dipped a finger in the raspberry sauce and casually took a taste. “I think it’s a keeper. By the way, ladies, dinner’s on the house tonight. Can I get Marco to bring you coffee?”
Vanessa shook her head. “Oh, Josh, that’s not nec—”
“I’ll take it in trade for a free case of Tony’s 2006 syrah next time you’re in town.”
She squeezed his hand in friendly affection. “You’re the greatest.”
He shrugged. “It’s a curse, but I’m learning to deal.”
Chuckling, he walked back to the kitchen of his restaurant thinking life didn’t get much better than this. It had ended up being a winning move—following his parents out from Denver to California where they’d come to retire in the milder climate. A year ago, Josh had only flown out for a visit having no intention of leaving the restaurant he’d worked for since graduating from the culinary academy. But when he caught his first sight of Shiloh, he’d fallen in love with the area and decided to stay.
He’d bought up a prime location right on the main drag and hit pay dirt with a restaurant of his own that took off like a light and hadn’t slowed down since. He’d brought a few of his friends out to help run the restaurant, had quickly made several dozen more, and was already considering himself a lifer in this slice of northern California that sat between the wine country and the Pacific Coast.
Especially if people kept offering up beautiful women like Vanessa and her not coincidentally single friends.
Sidling up next to Seth, his grill chef, he slapped two more chicken breasts on the fire.
Seth eyed Josh then focused his gaze across the dining room on the group of women Josh had just left. “If Vanessa’s doling out friends, I’ll take that blonde in the silky blue top.”
Josh laughed. “That one’s married. In fact, they all are except for the brunette in the green sweater. And Vanessa was subtle as a jackhammer about all the things Alison and I had in common.” He checked his watch. “I’ll be getting a call around ten tonight asking me what I thought of her.”
“And what do you think?”
“Seems nice enough. As long as she understands the ground rules, I suppose I wouldn’t mind spending a little time with her.”
Seth placed a hand on his chest and sighed. “There you go breaking hearts across California just like you did back home.”
Josh smiled and poked at the chicken he’d slapped on the grill.
Most of the wives of his friends had taken him on as their personal project, feeling the need to get him married off as though the future of mankind depended on it. They didn’t seem to take him seriously when he told them he wasn’t interested in settling down. They were all certain his mind could be changed if only he met that special someone.
And every one of them had a special someone in mind.
He’d told each of them more than once that it wasn’t happening any time soon, but if they didn’t want to listen and kept parading a string of eligible women in front of him, who was he to argue?
“The only heart I break is my mother’s,” he said. “And even she’s happy now that Ginny gave her the grandchild she’d been waiting for.”
The ring of the bell above the door caught his attention and he looked up to see his neighbor, Kitty Clayborn, step through.
Now, there was a woman he didn’t quite know what to do with. Sweet, prim Kitty Clayborn. A curious paradox of buttoned-up propriety with hints of something dark and sensual underneath. He and Kitty had lived and worked in close proximity for over six months now, yet she still balled up like a bundle of nerves every time their paths crossed. He wondered what he had to do to get her to loosen up, to ease the chokehold she kept on that pearl necklace of hers, to take down that pretty blond hair and relax like he knew she could.
Like she did after hours in that upstairs apartment of hers, late at night when the street was quiet and she thought no one was looking.
He missed those hot August nights when she’d left her shades and windows open. Kitty had a fetish for smooth jazz, and often when he was closing up shop, he’d hear the sultry music wafting down from her second-story window. He’d never forget the first night he saw her up there, his straight-laced neighbor rolling her hips to the music in a pair of low-slung shorts and an even skimpier T-shirt. He’d gone rock-hard at the sight—still did every time he recalled it—and it was a situation he had yet to get a grip on. After all, he’d seen plenty of woman in his time dance around half-naked. So why did this one affect him so?
He knew the answer. That first hot and humid night, she’d shown him a side of her he hadn’t expected, and ever since, he’d ached to see what else Miss Kitty might be hiding.
Unfortunately, that would involve asking her on a date, and if there was anything Josh knew about women like Kitty, it was that they didn’t do temporary. And since Josh didn’t do permanent that left only broken hearts and bad feelings among neighbors who live too close for comfort.
Clutching her purse tightly against her cashmere sweater, she eyed the room then smiled and waved when she spotted him at the grill.
“Hey, Kitty Cat,” he called out. “You looking for a table?”
She stepped to the bar that overlooked the kitchen, set down her purse and took a seat. “No, thank you. I was looking for you.”
He glanced back to find her fiddling with those pearls as though she were counting off beads on a rosary. The Billy Joel song came to mind, the one about only the good dying young, and Josh felt every bit the dangerous bad boy out to steal her virtues.
With pretty brown eyes, a lovely turned-up nose and angelic straight blond hair, Kitty oozed purity. Her family owned a dairy, which Josh assumed accounted for that fresh-cream skin and those luscious curves that couldn’t be fabricated in a gym. Oh, what he’d give to get under that pale-blue turtleneck and unravel everything proper about his farm-fresh neighbor.
Anything but his bachelorhood, he had to remind himself.
“Actually,” she said, clearing her throat, “I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind having coffee with me sometime soon.”
He grinned to hide his shock. “Why, Miss Kitty, are you asking me on a date?”
Just the thought turned him hard. Cute Sally Sunshine hitting on him? It was every naughty boy’s fantasy. And every time he thought about him and Kitty getting naked, he felt like a deliciously naughty boy.
He seriously needed to get over himself when it came to her. He was bad news and she wasn’t his type. End of subject. Yet every time he locked up the restaurant at night and headed down the boulevard, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing up to those windows in search of a glimpse.
And now she was asking him out?
Those brown eyes turned to saucers and her rosy cheeks deepened. “No! Of course, not. I mean, not that I wouldn’t be interested. Sure, a date would be fun—or not! That’s not what I—I mean—” Her rosy cheeks darkened. “I need your help.”
He left his chicken to Seth, who was doing a bad job of holding his snickers at bay, and leaned against the bar.
“You see, it’s my store,” she went on. “It’s in trouble.” Then in a babbling rush, she told him about Auntie Bea’s and how her sales were sinking and something about a company named CrownCraft and a bitchy sales representative. Did she really say bitchy? Seemed funny coming out of her mouth. Regardless, she fluttered it out so quickly, he couldn’t quite grasp it all, but what he did manage to get was that she wanted him to help her figure out how to revamp her store.
“I’m sorry,” he said, when she finally came to a pause. “I don’t know much about gift shops. I’m a chef.”
“I…I know.” Her hand went back to her pearls. “I was just thinking that your guests…surely, they must talk. Don’t they ask you where they can buy things, where the good shopping is, or tell you what they’re doing here in town?”
He blinked. Actually, they did. And when he gave it some thought, he realized he probably could give her some suggestions. Frankly, few people strolling into the restaurant would be interested in the antiquated kitsch she peddled. It didn’t surprise him that she was running in the red. Did she know Auntie Bea’s was sorely out of touch with the times? He’d just need to figure out a way to tell her that without hurting her feelings.
Or kissing her senseless.
“The restaurant’s closed tomorrow. I’d have some time,” he heard himself say. Then that worried brow of hers transformed into bright beams of sunshine that hit him smack between the eyes.
“Really?”
That smile literally wobbled his knees. Damn, he had it worse than he thought, which meant that if he was going to help her, he’d have to park his self-control in the garage and give it a great big tune-up.
She clapped her hands together. “Oh, I could kiss you!”
He’d never survive it.
“Don’t get too excited,” he urged. “I’m not sure if I’ve got any good ideas, but maybe I could help brainstorm.”
She slid off the barstool and grabbed her purse. “I think you’ll help more than you realize. Really. I’ve got a good feeling about this.”
He had a feeling too. Unfortunately, the feeling was very, very bad.