Recipe for Love (Entangled Select Suspense) by Dyann Love Barr

She could hear his heart beating under the chef’s jacket. Its steady rhythm relaxed her tight muscles until they were the consistency of melted butter. She couldn’t hold back the small sigh of contentment. When was the last time a man just held her? Maybe never.
    “You gave me a fright out there.” His chin brushed against her hair in a smooth, comforting caress. “What’s wrong?”
    A shudder ran through her at the memory of the elevator. His nearness hadn’t totally dispersed the aftermath of her panic attack.
    “I don’t know. Everything happened at once. The murder, the interrogation, the competition, the elevator. I guess it just piled up on me.” She pulled one of the gold and green striped pillows into her lap and worried the corner with her fingers. Without warning, her stomach let out a loud, long growl. “This is all so embarrassin’.”
    “The last thing I had to eat was that damned cookie, and I know you had a greasy, fast food burger.” He got to his feet and held out his hand. She accepted the boost up and threw the pillow back onto the sofa. “Go take your shower. I’ll order some room service.”
    The idea of showering while he stood outside in the living room area of the suite made her mouth go dry. “I’m not very hungry.” Her stomach called her a liar.
    He gave her the lifted eyebrow treatment along with a devilish smile.
    “Oh, all right.” If she didn’t move now, she’d never make it to the bathroom. “Just don’t order a cheeseburger and fries.”
    He winked at her and shooed her off to the shower.
    …
    Jordan found it hard to concentrate on placing an order with room service while imagining her under the shower. He envisioned her breasts, wet and soapy. The womanly shape of her hips made his mouth water, and food was the last thing on his mind.
    “Ah, yes, okay, a rack of ribs, coleslaw, and two baked potatoes.” He hesitated for a moment trying to decide on wine or beer. Was Tilly a beer drinker? He looked around and found an empty diet cola can in the trash. “Give me a diet soda and a domestic beer. Dessert?” He didn’t think he’d find a clue in the trash this time. The water still ran and the fantasy of Tilly soaping up ate away at his brain. “Err, ah, give me a piece of chocolate silk pie and one of coconut cream.”
    He paced the floor. The room grew warm in spite of the very efficient air conditioner pumping out an arctic blast. “You are toxic, Tilly Danes.” He shucked off his chef’s jacket. The cool air felt good through the thin material of the black T-shirt he wore underneath the coat. He was used to the stifling heat of his restaurant kitchens or the lights of the network studios. Dealing with her was a whole other type of heat altogether.
    The shower stopped. He didn’t know if that was any better. Time slowed to an agonizing crawl. He imagined the white terry towels sliding over her body, the steamy mirrors, and the scent of her shower gel thickening the air. He’d always gone for the tall, slender types. When had a rounded bottom become so enticing?
    He snapped to attention at the sound of the bathroom door opening. His mouth turned sawdust dry at the sight of her padding out into the living room area, fingering her damp hair into short curls. He’d never seen her in anything except her normal chef’s attire and high-tops. Tonight she wore a pair of flowing white cotton pants and a softly fitted, long sleeved, lavender T-shirt that read Meat is murder. Tasty, tasty murder . He blinked at the sight of her bare feet, toenails adorned with bright purple polish. A white daisy graced each big toenail.
    Who would’ve thought a simple flower could deliver such a sucker punch?
    “Anything wrong?” She frowned. Her fingers stopped tousling her hair as she looked to where he stared at her feet. “Oh, these.” She wriggled her toes in the carpet. “What can I say? I like daisies.”
    “No.” He tried to sound as normal as possible. “It’s