Meagan (2 page)

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.”