Under Her Clothes. Louisa Edwards

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СКАЧАТЬ almost toe-to-toe, as if he were daring the kid to challenge him. Any other chef in this kitchen, Dom knew, would be backing down, hunching shoulders and trying to make himself smaller to escape the searing focus of Dom’s intense regard.

      But Colby St. James never seemed to do what Dom expected. No, this young man, who was here only because a friend of Eva’s had gotten him into the interview process at the last minute, didn’t hunch. He squared his shoulders and didn’t lower his eyes, and only by the quick rise and fall of his wiry chest did Colby betray any reaction to the tension that crackled between them.

      “Chef?” Colby muttered, so quietly Dom thought no one else in the kitchen could hear. “I’m not giving up. No disrespect intended. Your intimidation routine is kick-ass, but I’m in it to win it.”

      Dom realized exactly how long he’d been staring silently, looming over Colby and ignoring the rest of the candidates as if they were alone in the kitchen. Dragging his gaze from Colby’s ripe, tempting bottom lip, Dominic nodded briskly and stepped back.

      “All of you, report to Antonio,” he ordered hoarsely. “He’ll give you your line assignments for the day. Each of you will have the chance to show what you’ve got at the different stations. I expect any chef I recommend for the job of executive chef to be more than competent at every aspect of kitchen work, from prep to dessert. Maison de Ville will be open as usual. Do not embarrass me.”

      Good advice, Dom reflected as the chef candidates all but saluted before marching over to Antonio at the grill station. Dominic could stand to remember not to embarrass himself.

      A touch on his forearm turned the muscles there to corded steel. No one touched him in his kitchen. Ever.

      Even before he rounded on the offender, the spark of sexual electricity zinging up his arm told him who it was. Of course. Colby fucking St. James.

      “I think we got off on the wrong foot, chef,” the kid was saying confidently with a bright smile.

      “Let me give you a hint, Colby St. James.” Dom leaned in, close enough to feel that spark jump between them like static. “Failing to follow my orders for the second time in the first hour is not the way to impress me.”

      “Maybe not.” Colby’s lips quirked in a subtle smirk that shot straight to Dom’s dick. “But you know my name. I stood out from the pack.”

      That was true enough to make the hairs on the back of Dom’s neck stand at attention. “Standing out for having a smart mouth isn’t what most people want. I should throw you out of my restaurant right now.”

      Colby’s thin chest heaved once. “But you won’t.”

      “Why not?” Part of Dom truly wanted a reason.

      “Because.” Colby straightened his white sleeves, twitching them proudly over his scarred forearms, laddered with burn marks that told the story of a chef who had served his time and earned his bones. “You want to see what I’ve got.”

      God, yes. The words called to something in Dominic, a primal urge to strip the white chef’s coat off Colby’s body, to bare all that skin to Dom’s hungry gaze and possessive touch. Fire raged under his skin, all the more devastating because it caught him by surprise. Dom wrestled with his impulses, clenching his fists behind his back to keep from reaching out for Colby.

      Colby licked his bottom lip as if he knew what it would do to Dom. Those dark blue eyes snapped with challenge. “You want to see if I can back up this smart mouth with my kitchen skills. And I’m here to prove I can.”

      “Maybe,” Dom rasped, stamping out the flickering fire as best he could. “But your skills will have to be exceptional to get me to overlook your tendency to talk back.”

      “I can take orders when I need to.” For the first time, Colby’s gaze dropped, but it wasn’t submissive. Just the opposite, in fact. “But I’m a leader in the kitchen. And correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s what this interview process is all about—finding someone to lead the team at the new restaurant.”

      The fact that Colby was right only fanned the flames. Desire like he’d never felt roared through Dom’s system, shocking and disorienting and obliterating all logical thought. “And you believe that’s you. But you haven’t got the job yet, and right now? You’re in my house. My rules. So why don’t you run along and do everything Antonio tells you—and then you stay after service to close down. Every night. For two weeks...or as long as you last.”

      See how Colby liked being singled out for that. Closing down was a punishment detail, reserved for whoever had screwed up and earned Dom’s wrath during service. Even though he ran a tight, clean ship, at the end of service the kitchen still tended to look like a war zone. Washing down the stations, mopping the floors, scrubbing out the grease traps—no one liked closing down, but it had to be done.

      His crew was already thrilled to be getting time off while these chef candidates rotated through their stations. They’d be even happier to be off scrub detail for two full weeks.

      Colby St. James obviously wasn’t happy. But instead of objecting, as Dom had almost hoped he would, Colby rolled his shoulders and gave a tight smile. “You think a little mopping is going to scare me off? Every hard-ass chef I’ve ever cooked for has given me the shit work. You’re going to have to try harder than that.”

      Fury and desire and denial exploded like a Molotov cocktail in Dom’s chest. It took everything he had to keep from hauling Colby in close—to shake him or kiss him or both. “Don’t push me, boy. Or you’ll find out what it’s like to work under a real hard-ass.”

      Colby’s gaze narrowed as awareness sizzled between them. His perfect, damnably kissable mouth tilted up at the corners. “Promises, promises,” he murmured as he slipped past Dominic to join the other chef candidates.

      Dom watched him go, the subtle twitch of lean hips under the shapeless white jacket and black checked chef pants, and felt a subsonic growl building in the back of his throat. His cock was a heavy, throbbing weight between his legs, aching for the touch of another man for the first time in a decade. What the hell was happening to him?

      * * *

      Disaster. Catastrophe. Epic cock-up of the worst possible kind. The buzzing in Colby’s ears nearly drowned out the sous chef’s lightly accented voice as he outlined the duties the chef candidates would be taking over for that night’s dinner shift.

      Contrary to what she’d said to Chef Fevre in a moment of brash insanity, Colby hadn’t been looking to stand out. At least, not for anything other than her unparalleled abilities with a knife. And now here she was, not an hour into an audition process that was going to take—oh, God—two full weeks, and she’d already pissed off the head chef enough to make him put her on cleanup duty.

      It was hard not to despair that even in guy drag, she was still about to be handed a mop and a bucket.

      But she couldn’t help it. The intense attraction she felt to Chef Fevre turned her into a crazy person. And what was worse, she’d even become delusional—because she could swear that at one point back there, the attraction had gone from a one-way street to a four-lane freeway with no speed limit.

      Was Chef Dominic Fevre, the most alpha, badass drill sergeant of an executive chef in Manhattan, secretly gay? That alone wouldn’t be enough to blow her mind; Colby knew plenty of gay men and women who could hold СКАЧАТЬ