Heat: A Bad Boy Chef Romance by Lila Moore

setting the mood. I was blowing this.
    Roche tried to take one of the bags from me as we entered her apartment. I wouldn’t let her. I wanted to set everything up perfectly for her. I took my time placing the food on the wooden board, arranging the meats and cheeses perfectly. I added some spicy mustard and olives.
    “I thought you were going to cook for me?” she said.
    “This is better.”
    “Are we going on a picnic?” She eyed the board and bit her lip.
    “I thought we’d eat here, and that maybe something a bit lighter was in order.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “You spend all day tasting sauces and rich foods. I assumed you’d like a break from all that. This is simple; the flavor speaks for itself and it’s delicious.”
    Roche grabbed a slice of prosciutto and ate it. Her eyes closed.
    “Good?” I asked.
    She answered with a smile and reached for another piece. I moved the board out of the tiny kitchen and set it down on the bed. She followed close behind. Roche sat down and crossed her legs beneath her. I busied myself with the wine and watched as she spread cheese over bread then took a big bite. She didn’t peck at her food like a bird; she dug right in and enjoyed every bite.
    “What?” she said, catching me staring.
    “Sorry?”
    “You’re smiling. What’s funny?”
    “Nothing. I just like a woman who eats.”
    She rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand self-consciously. “Am I being a pig?”
    “No. I was being serious. I hate sharing a meal with someone who doesn’t appreciate it.”
    I handed her the wine glass. She sipped from it then picked up a slice of cheese and ate it slowly.
    “What do you think?”
    “The cheese pairs with the wine nicely. It makes it taste sweet like honey.”
    I popped one of the olives into my mouth then dug in. After a glass of wine, we’d both loosened up a bit, in fact I was starting to suspect Roche was a lightweight. After only one drink, she acted drunk. She held out her empty glass to me and asked for a second. I filled her wine glass half full this time. I didn’t want her to get wasted. She took a sip, then another.
    “Be honest with me,” she said. “Are you really dating Gwen?”
    I poured more wine for myself and took a drink. I’d grown tired of this argument. What could I do to prove to her that Gwen and I were not an item?
    “I saw you kissing her,” she said with a drunken lilt to her voice.
    “What? I didn’t kiss Gwen.”
    “In your office! I saw you.”
    “She kissed me. I did not kiss her.”
    “Women are just throwing themselves at you all the time,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
    “No… just Gwen. Lately, it seems as if the one girl I’m interested in wants nothing to do with me.”
    “Oh yeah? Who’s that?” she asked.
    I gave her a meaningful look. She took a big gulp of wine.
    “Gwen and I used to sleep together,” I blurted out.
    I’m not sure why I was telling Roche this. Maybe it was best to clear the air between us. If she knew my history with Gwen maybe she’d stop asking questions about her.
    “She was married at the time. It ended her marriage. She’s always blamed me.”
    “But you work together?”
    “Yeah, well, sometimes life is complicated. She presented me with a once in a lifetime opportunity to open the restaurant I’ve always wanted. How could I say no? Would you turn down that offer just because it was coming from an ex?”
    “No,” she admitted.
    “I was willing to leave the past in the past. Gwen is possessive though. She doesn’t like competition. And she’s out for revenge. It wouldn’t surprise me if she knew that you were watching when she kissed me. Then there’s the whole thing with her answering my phone while she was fucking that food blogger.”
    “Wait, she’s fucking the food critic?”
    “Apparently. She was with him when she answered my phone. She could have told you that I wasn’t there, that she only picked up my phone after I’d forgotten it, but that