Authors: Cheris Hodges

Recipe for Desire (11 page)

BOOK: Recipe for Desire

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“That is good,” he said.

Marie nodded and took another bite of her grits before offering Devon some more. As his lips closed around the fork, she tried not to think of his lips closing like that around her nipple or between her legs, sucking her pearl until she released her desire.

“I guess we’d better wrap this up and head to the shelter,” Devon said, breaking into Marie’s thoughts.

“Right,” she said as he began gathering their plates. While he was in the kitchen, she placed the leftovers in the boxes Devon had brought them over in.

“Ready?” Devon asked. He glanced at the table and saw the food boxed up and smiled. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” she said as she slowly rose from the table while Devon placed the food in his thermal bag.

“Would you come to Hometown Delights for a breakfast spread like that?” he asked as he strapped his bag across his shoulder.

“I would, if you served breakfast after twelve
P.M.
,” she quipped. Devon walked around the coffee table and leaned into Marie, offering his shoulder so that she could gain her balance. The way she gripped his shoulder made Devon want to strip her bare and take her right there on the sofa. He wanted to feel the bite of her nails in his skin as he thrust into her heated pool of desire.

He turned away from those bewitching eyes and delicious lips, pretending he had to cough.

“Are you all right?” she asked, leaning closer to Devon. Her supple breast brushed against his forearm, and Devon faked another cough.

“Dry throat,” he said. “I’m good.”

Marie looked at the white florist box Devon had brought in when he’d arrived. “Do you mind if I sneak a peek before we leave? And you can grab some juice for your dry throat.”

Devon nodded. “We have time for that,” he said as he led her over to the bar. Marie leaned against one of the stools as Devon headed into the kitchen to get a fast drink. As he reached for a glass, Marie shrieked as if she’d seen a mouse or worse. Forgetting the juice he didn’t need anyway, Devon rushed over to her. “Are you all right?” he asked as he watched her toss a dozen long-stemmed red and white roses across the room. The petals rained down like a floral snowstorm.

“That sorry son of a bitch!” she groaned. “Roses? Roses are supposed to make up for what he did?”

Devon folded his arms across his chest, hiding his laugh because he knew when she calmed down, this was not going to be pretty to clean up.
Women and their emotional outbursts. Who does she think she’s hurting?
He crossed over to her as she beat another innocent rose to death.

“Marie,” he said. “You do realize that you’re going to have to clean this up—on crutches.”

She faced him with a wild look in her eyes. “You don’t understand, William had some nerve to send me these roses after he humiliated me!”

“And this does what to him?”

“You know what?” she said, then sighed deeply. “You’re right, and I really don’t like you.”

Devon took the rose stems from her hands and smiled. “You’ll learn to love me.”

That’s what I’m afraid of,
she thought as they headed out the door.

Chapter 11

When Devon and Marie arrived at My Sister’s Keeper, he gave her an assignment that she could sit down and complete while he taught his cooking class. Marie didn’t mind writing a few press releases about the restaurant’s fund-raiser for the shelter, even though she had initially thought he was trying to exploit her. Had she not been so hardheaded, she might not be sitting there with a twisted ankle. Marie crinkled her nose as the computer froze up on her again. “They really need to upgrade these systems,” she muttered as she pressed Control, Alt, Delete again. She waited for the computer to reboot and turned toward the kitchen, watching Devon as he slowly chopped some vegetables. The women watched him closely, soaking up the lesson he was teaching. Marie focused on his strong arms, because he’d shed his chef’s jacket as if it was hot in the enclosure. His arms reminded her of cut ebony wood, strong enough to hold her until the world stopped spinning. She bounced her foot and chewed her bottom lip as she was lost in a fantasy of being laid across that counter and made love to.

“Excuse me. Excuse me,” Bria said, breaking into Marie’s thoughts.

Marie turned and faced the girl and smiled. “Yes?”

Bria glanced down at Marie’s feet. “Those shoes are hot,” she said. “But anyway, are you done with the press release?”

Marie shook her head. “This computer keeps freezing up on me.”

“It does that a lot,” she said. “Have you been saving your work?”

Marie nodded and noticed that Bria was still looking at her shoes. “What size do you wear?” she asked her.

“Oh, umm, size eight,” she replied quietly.

Marie nodded and untied her shoe, then removed it from her foot. “Try it on; I rarely, meaning never, wear these. If they fit, you’re welcome to them.”

Bria put the shoe on and smiled brightly when she tied it up tightly. “This is a hot shoe. Why don’t you like it?”

Marie shrugged. “I guess it was made for you and not me.”

“And you’re really going to give me these?” Bria held her foot out and shifted it from side to side. There was one thing that Marie knew, and that’s how a new pair of shoes made a woman feel.

“Sure, you can have them,” Marie said. “As a matter of fact, if you lead me to a computer that works, we can go shopping next week.”

Bria cocked her head to the side. “Why are you being so nice to me? Yesterday, you were acting like a ...”

“Raging bitch?” Marie finished.

“Well,” Bria replied, “kind of. It was obvious that you didn’t want to be here.”

“Have you ever gotten away with everything and then finally had to take your lumps? It’s never easy, but since I have to be here, I want to help.”

Bria didn’t reply, she just pointed to another computer. “This one works better,” she said after a moment of silence.

“Bria,” Marie said, “where did you go?”

The young woman leaned over and untied the shoe, then handed it to Marie. “People always say they want to help, but it only seems to make things worse.”

“Well, I’ve never said that I would help you before and ...”

“Oh, please,” Bria said. “I Googled you last night; I’m sure you don’t want to help me at all. What will it do for your party image?”

“Look,” Marie said. “I’m not going to sit here and pretend that I’ve changed overnight. I still like to party and have a good time, but that has nothing to do with you and me in this moment.”

“Whatever,” Bria said. “I’m going to the store.” Before Marie could put her shoe on and go after her, Devon was heading in her direction.

“What’s going on out here?” he asked as he saw Bria tear out the door.

Marie shook her head and shrugged. “We were talking, she liked my shoes, and ...”

“You got into an argument with her about shoes?”

“Are you going to let me finish?” Marie snapped. “I told her she could have the shoes and that we could go shopping next week because I wanted to help her, and she just flipped a switch.”

Devon squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Bria is really hard to get a read on and ...”

“Go to hell,” Marie snapped as she slowly rose to her feet. “I was trying to talk to her and do something nice for the girl because she was helping me with the computer, and you assume that I’m arguing about some shoes that I’m only wearing because I twisted my ankle?”

“I made a mistake,” he said. “I overreacted because Bria has been having a hard time.”

Marie took a calming breath; it wasn’t as if she’d given him any reason to believe that she wouldn’t fly off the handle after the scene he’d witnessed with the roses. “All right,” she said. “Maybe you should go after her and make sure she’s all right.”

“Are we OK? I don’t want to keep arguing with you. We have a long time to work together.”

Marie nodded, but kept silent. She didn’t want to argue either. Devon headed out the door and she banged her hand against the computer keyboard, then started typing the press release—again.

Devon crossed the shelter’s parking lot and caught up with Bria as she made it to the corner store. “Bria,” he said. “Are you all right?”

“I really wish people would stop asking me that. I need cigarettes, OK. There is nothing wrong with me.”

“Listen,” Devon said, “people are concerned about you because we care.”

“Sounds like the same load of crap she offered in there,” Bria said, nodding toward the shelter. “I don’t need help, I simply need a home.”

“And that’s why you’re here, but even if you get a job, if you have something in your past that you’re running from, it is going to come back and hurt you in the long run.”

“I–I ... Just leave me alone, OK?”

“I will, for now. But you know that it’s required for you to do the career training, and you’re missing class right now,” Devon said, his brows furrowed in confusion, disappointment, and anger. “Who is he, Bria? Who are you running from?”

She stopped cold, as if Devon’s words cut through her soul. “What?”

“I know the signs,” he said quietly, closing the space between them and placing his hand on her shoulder. “My mother ran from an abusive man.”

“I’m not running,” she said, then dropped her head. “I’m scared.”

He nodded. “You need to talk to someone. There’s help for you, but you can’t run all your life.”

“But ... What if he finds me? Who’s going to protect me then?” she asked as she began to cry. Devon wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed and her body trembled.

“No one is going to hurt you,” he said. “But you should take advantage of the counseling services here. What he did to you is not your fault.”

“You said your mother ran?”

“Yes, but it didn’t help her. She didn’t get away from my father completely, she was diagnosed with cancer, and because we only ran, when she needed treatment, she had to go back.”

“I don’t want to go back. I can’t.”

“You don’t have to. Come with me,” Devon said as he took her hand in his. They walked inside, and Marie shot a quizzical look his way as Devon and Bria dashed down the hall. Marie saw Shay crossing over to her and could hear that she was calling her name, but Marie’s mind was walking down the hall. She wondered if Bria would be all right. Had Devon been able to talk to her and let her know that people actually did give a damn about her?

“Marie! Did you hear me?” Shay asked. Then she followed Marie’s gaze. “I see you’re just as worried about that girl as everybody else around here.”

“I hope Devon can help her with whatever demons she’s dealing with,” Marie said. “But, that doesn’t mean I should ignore you. I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

“I got a copy of the press release off the printer and I wanted to suggest some changes,” she said, handing Marie the page with notes in the margin. “The first thing is, we want the media to come here and do the interviews, because this is a fund-raiser for the shelter.”

“I thought about that,” Marie said. “But what about ladies who don’t want people to know that they’re here?”

Shay stroked her chin. “All right, I didn’t think about that. But we’re going to be included in the interviews to let people know we’re not sitting back just doing nothing, right?”

“Of course,” Marie said. “I tell you what, why don’t we schedule a day when the media comes to the restaurant and all of you who have been working so hard on this can be interviewed.”

Shay tilted her head to the side and looked at Marie. “You’ve done this before, huh?”

“My business is getting in the news,” Marie replied with a wink. “That and shopping.”

“So, how do I get a job with you?”

“We will have to talk about it,” Marie said. “But you do know your press release writing.”

“We’re not just homeless dummies. Before I lost everything, I worked in the banking industry and for a public relations company for a while, too. But the money dried up and there was nothing else I could do.”

Marie nodded, knowing that the economy caused a lot of qualified people to lose their jobs, but she had no idea how hard times really were. Shay was highly qualified at what she did, but the job market was extremely limited. Marie made a mental note to see if she and Adriana could help Shay find a job. She wished that she could hire her on the spot, but with the business that they’d lost due to her arrest, she wasn’t sure if she could.

“Enough of my sob story,” Shay said, noting Marie’s silence. “So, when are you going to set up this press conference?”

“I will get back to you tomorrow with a date,” she replied as she pulled her cell phone out of her purse. “Let me call my partner and see if we can get something set up.”

As she dialed Adriana’s number, Devon came down the hall with a somber look on his face. Marie quickly hung up the phone and turned to him. “Is everything all right?” she asked.

“I got to go and dismiss class. Do you need a ride home?” he asked quietly.

“If you need to stay, I can make other arrangements,” Marie said. “Is Bria OK?”

Devon nodded and instinctively kissed Marie on the forehead. “She will be and I don’t have to stay. We were almost done with the lesson and I want to talk to you about what you did today.”

Marie felt as if she was melting from his lips gracing her forehead, but she knew that kiss meant nothing. Right?

Devon wanted to kick himself as he stood there looking at Marie. Why couldn’t he keep his lips to himself when he was around her? Kissing her made him want to taste the most intimate parts of her essence. But he couldn’t fall for her or give in to his lustful needs and desires. Then again, would it be so bad if he did? She made it clear this morning that she wasn’t pretending to want to head between the sheets for special treatment at the shelter. She’d even went above and beyond with the way she reached out to Bria. Still, Devon was leery, wondering what could be going on behind those beguiling eyes and who Marie Charles really was.

Marie ran her hand down his forearm and smiled sweetly at him. Devon returned her smile and then quickly returned to the kitchen.

“All right, ladies,” he said to the remaining students. “We’re going to have to cut class short today. Here’s what I need you to do: Finish with the chopping of the onions, oregano, and peppers. Shay is going to be in charge for the rest of the day, and when you store these vegetables, keep them sealed tightly. Tomorrow, we’re going to make an Italian soup.”

“Is everything all right?” Skylar asked.

“Yeah,” Devon said, thinking about Bria’s meeting with a counselor. He’d finally seen the young girl smile and let down that guard she’d built around herself. He wished that his mother would’ve found that kind of support and help when she’d needed it.

“All right, people,” Shay said. “Let’s get chopping.” Devon waved to the women, took a deep breath, and headed out the door.

He watched Marie as she stood by the entrance of the shelter, speaking in hushed tones on her BlackBerry. Part of him teemed with jealousy. Was she talking to the guy who’d sent her those roses? Maybe she’d decided to forgive him his trespasses and was making plans to make up with him? Anger like that was attached to love; being friends with women taught him the signs of a woman not over her ex. Devon crossed over to her in time to hear her say, “All right, Adriana, we’ll talk about it more when I limp into the office. And yes, I need some flats. Three good pairs. Can you stop laughing?” Marie turned around and caught Devon’s stare. “I have to go.”

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Devon replied.

She dropped her phone in her oversized leather purse and smiled. “No problem. I want to talk to you about something,” she said as they headed to his car.

“What’s that?”

“When Shay and I were going over the press release, she told me that she was a former PR agent.”

Devon nodded. “Yeah, that’s why she’s heading up the publicity for the fund-raiser.”

BOOK: Recipe for Desire

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