Happily Ever After Collection Page 3

I smirked as I moved the container out of reach. “Enough, minx.”

  She giggled and winked at me. I couldn’t resist returning her smile with one of my own and adding another gentle kiss, to her cheek this time.

  “Aren’t you going to have one?” she teased.

  I shook my head. “No, we’re not sharing yet, thank God. You ready?”

  She straightened her shoulders and nodded.

  Grimacing, I picked up the cheeseburger and unwrapped it. “Have a bite.”

  Grinning, she took the burger and took a bite. I watched closely as she chewed and swallowed. A strange look crossed her face, but otherwise, she didn’t react.

  Silently, she offered it to me, and I held her gaze as I took my own bite, instantly scowling at the burst of salt in my mouth. I picked up the bottle of water and drank deeply.

  “Do you want me to describe it?” she asked quietly.

  “No. Not yet.” I lifted the cover on the dish beside me and picked up the small cheeseburger from the plate. “I want you to taste this, and then tell me the difference between the two.”

  Julia took the burger from my hand and took a little bite. She chewed silently before swallowing, and she sat, not saying a word for a minute.

  “Can I have another bite?”

  Disappointed, I picked up the McDonald’s burger and offered it to her. She shook her head. “No, I mean of this one.”

  I beamed widely at her. “Yes.”

  She took two more bites, chewing slowly. After a minute, she held up my sandwich. “I like this one. It had…flavor? I could taste more than one thing, but I liked it.”

  “What could you taste?” I asked eagerly.

  “Garlic, um, herbs, and the meat was very fresh.”

  I nodded encouragingly. “And the other?”

  She shook her head sadly. “It tasted like salt. Just salt.”

  Without thinking, I grasped her face and kissed her lips. “Clever girl.” I praised her.

  Her eyes widened at my impulsive gesture, but she smiled, her cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink.

  The same thing happened when she took a bite of the fish sandwich. She chewed both thoughtfully and informed me the one from McDonald’s was greasy and…blah.

  I couldn’t have been happier with that description. I even grinned as she insisted on “cleansing her palate” with a sip of Coke.

  Finally, I offered her a nugget. I opened her beloved sauce and held it out to her. She looked at both with a grimace. “Could I taste yours first?”

  Pleased, I lifted the lid on my offering. I had prepared small chunks of chicken, dredged them in flour and herbs, baking them in a garlic-ginger sauce that was slightly sweet, yet tangy. Something flavorful that gave her some of the salt she loved, but that she wouldn’t find overwhelming. Anxiously, I watched as she speared a piece and tasted it. Slowly, a delighted look came over her features, and she gazed at me. “Byron, this is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted!”

  My smile was brilliant. I picked up one of her nuggets and offered it to her, but she shook her head. “I can’t eat that once I’ve had this. Knock yourself out. They’re all yours.”

  I threw back my head, laughing. Leaning forward, I kissed her warmly again. “Congratulations, Ms. Nichols. You have just graduated from no taste buds into the flavor academy.”

  She shook her head. “How did you do this?”

  “You needed to give yourself a break from the overload of crap you kept eating. All I did was help you discover what real food tasted like. That there was something out there other than processed garbage. If you keep trying new things, your taste buds will develop. I promise.”

  Her happiness faded a little. “So, I’m done?”

  I shook my head. “No, I have a reward for you.” I pulled a small pot off the stove and lifted the lid, taking out a bowl and setting it on the counter.

  Her eyes widened as I poured out the contents. “Is that chocolate?”

  Grinning, I reached over and picked up a piece of angel food cake and dipped it in the warm, molten richness. Slowly, I raised it to her lips. “Open up,” I whispered.

  I placed the morsel in her mouth and stifled a groan as her lips closed around my fingers. I felt her tongue gently flick against the tips as she removed all traces of the chocolate from my skin. She closed her eyes, and a low moan escaped her lips after I withdrew my fingers, the skin tingling where her tongue had touched them.

  I stood in front of her, immobilized, watching her. Her tongue peeked out, licking her lips.

  “I was wrong, Byron.”

  “Wrong?”

  “Your chicken isn’t the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

  I blinked. “You like the chocolate?”

  “Not just the chocolate.

  “The angel food cake?”

  She shook her head as color flooded her cheeks again. She leaned closer, her voice low and husky.

  “You, Byron. I like how you taste. It’s…addictive.”

  There was no thought. Just reaction. One second, I was standing in front of her; the next, I had her crushed up against me, my lips on hers, my tongue deep in her warm, delectable mouth. I yanked her against me tightly as I explored her sweetness. I vaguely registered the flavor of the chocolate, but I found her own essence far more appealing. I couldn’t get her close enough as our tongues met and danced together, stroking, caressing, never ceasing their movements. She wound her arms around my neck, and I groaned as her hands found their way into my hair, tugging softly and teasing me. Regretfully, I pulled away, my breath coming out in short gasps as I rested my forehead against hers.

  “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” I confessed quietly.

  “I’ve wanted you to.” She gently touched my face.

  I pulled her closer. “Good.”

  “Are you done with me? Is this over?”

  I pulled back in shock. “No!” I cupped her face in my hands. “I’ve enjoyed every second of our experiments, Julia. But I ceased to care if you ever got past your love for…that.” I indicated the bag sitting beside us. “All I wanted was more time with you.” I lowered my voice. “To get to know you. To be able to do this…” My mouth closed on hers once again, and for several moments, the world outside the softness of her lips ceased to exist.

  She pulled back and looked at me, her chest moving rapidly, her lips swollen. “I’m never going to be like you, Byron. I don’t think I’ll ever love food the way you do.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t need you to. I’m thrilled you understand it a little more now, though. And that maybe I can help you keep moving forward.” I drew in a deep breath. “And that perhaps you’d still see me…for me. I want to get to know all about you, and for you to know me. But I still want to cook for you…and take care of you that way. If you’ll let me.”

  “I’d like that.” She smiled shyly. “I don’t think I can go back to eating that.” She pointed at the McDonald’s leftovers.

  Grinning, I swept the contents from the bag into the garbage bin that was sitting beside us. “Then my work is done.”

  “I love watching you cook, you know. And I love how passionate you are about it.”

  Beaming, I leaned forward. “I’d be happy to show you something else I’m passionate about,” I murmured against her lips.

  I wasn’t expecting the sharp tug as she wrapped her arms back around me and I stumbled forward, bracing my hands on the countertop, only to knock one into the bowl of melted chocolate. I gasped and stood back, watching the chocolate drip from my fingers. I heard a small whimper, and my gaze flew to Julia, who was watching me with hooded eyes, her teeth pressing down into her bottom lip. Holding her gaze, I raised my hand to my mouth and licked the chocolate off one finger. Another whimper escaped her lips. “I suppose I should go and wash this off.” I grinned playfully.

  She shook her head furiously. “No.”

  “No?” I whispered, my voice raspy. “What should I do, then? How will I ever get i
t cleaned off?”

  Her hand moved and wrapped around my wrist, bringing the chocolate-covered skin close to her face. She grinned up at me, and her tongue came out and licked its way across my palm, swirling and teasing as she gathered up the sweet goodness. I hissed as she moved onto my fingers, my other hand closing over the top of her leg as she worked her tongue on my skin.

  “Julia,” I warned softly.

  She drew back. “Rich, dark, and molten, Byron. Not like any chocolate I’ve tasted before.”

  I groaned, even as I smiled at her description. I saw her hand move, and then her finger lifted, dripping with the dark, sweet liquid. Slowly, she rubbed it on her lips as she leaned forward, her voice low and pleading. “The rule, Byron. Remember the rule. We share…everything. You have to taste this.” She paused. “It’s amazing. The chef who made it is amazing.”

  I leaned forward and tenderly stroked her lips with my tongue, enjoying the bittersweet of the chocolate mixed with the velvet of her lips. Her low moan spurred me on, and I covered her mouth with mine, kissing her deeply.

  She was right.

  It was amazing.

  Her, her mouth, her rule, her adorable ways.

  The taste of her.

  They were all amazing.

  And now…they were part of my life.

  Chapter 4

  Julia

  A month later

  “All right, do you have everything you need for tomorrow?” Gerard smiled gently at me.

  I furrowed my brow in thought. “I hope so. I want to make this special—and surprise Byron.”

  “Follow the instructions, watch your timing, and everything will be fine. He’ll be thrilled you went to all this trouble for him.” He paused, winking at me. “Of course, his best birthday gift will be spending the weekend with you.”

  On cue, my cheeks grew warm, the color flooding right down my neck. “I’m not sure how much of a gift that is.”

  He chuckled. “Julia, I have been his maître d’, business partner, and friend since he opened his first restaurant. I have never known him to take a weekend off—ever. You’re good for him—you help him remember there is life outside the walls of his kitchen.”

  I glanced around the spotless kitchen I was standing in. Gerard had been sweet enough to try to teach me how to make Byron a dinner as a surprise for his birthday. It would be the first meal I had ever attempted to cook. I was delighted and thrilled to find out when not cooking and creating, Byron kept his meals fairly simple. Pasta, chicken, and salad were his favorites. Byron explained to me with all the tasting and rich foods he ate all the time, when not in “chef-mode,” he liked simple fare more.

  Except dessert.

  His favorite was an amaretto crème brûlée, served with fresh fruit he spiced and sweetened and the thinnest wafer biscuits I had ever seen.

  His own recipes, of course.

  Gerard was endlessly patient with his lessons, even accommodating my weird hours, using his own kitchen and trying not to alert Byron that anything out of the ordinary was happening.

  I thought I had everything under control.

  Dinner would include a simple marinara with fresh pasta, although not homemade—Byron would have to make allowances for that minor technicality.

  Salad, I could handle, and even though Gerard rolled his hazel eyes, I insisted on garlic bread. There were some habits not even Byron could break.

  Dessert worried me the most, but while Gerard offered to make it himself, I insisted on doing it. I wanted to make all of it for Byron. I knew he preferred it made and served the same day, so it was important to me to follow his pattern.

  He constantly cooked for me—lunches, dinners, and on occasion, breakfast. He hated the thought of me hungry or eating anything he hadn’t made for me. Every time I walked into the restaurant, I was swept into the kitchen or his office, and once he kissed me thoroughly to say hello, he would instantly inquire if I was hungry. It only took one look of total disappointment when I answered no for me to understand that was how he showed his love for me. After that, the answer was always yes. Seeing the delight on his face when I praised whatever dish he would slide in front of me, I knew I would never say no again.

  To anything he asked me.

  God, I loved him. We hadn’t said the words to each other yet, but we both felt the emotion. I wanted to tell him this weekend, and that was why I wanted to make him a meal.

  As simple as my offering would be, he would know the effort I’d made and understand its significance. He would feel cared for. Loved.

  Gerard’s voice interrupted my musings. “You have your lists?”

  I held up the stack of papers.

  “Your timelines?”

  “Yes. Dessert first. Then I’ll make the sauce and salad, set the table, and when Byron calls to say he’s almost there, I’ll cook the pasta and heat the bread.”

  “And?” he prompted.

  “Garnish the brûlée!”

  “Excellent. Don’t melt the sugar on the brûlée too early, or it will get soft. Forty-five minutes will chill it again the way Byron likes it. Don’t garnish it with the fruit until you’re ready to serve.” He pointed to two small containers. “I did make you some of Byron’s wafers and the spiced fruit. He loves them with the brûlée, and they take practice to get right.”

  “Not too early. Right. And thank you, Gerard.”

  He waved away my thanks. “Are you sure you’re okay to use the torch? The broiler will work as well.” He frowned. “I don’t want you to burn yourself.”

  “Nope. I’ve been practicing with you. I think I have it under control.” I had eaten a lot of brûlée lately during our experiments.

  “Okay. Good. It’s a simple menu, and you have all day. It’ll be perfect, and Byron will be thrilled.”

  I felt a small flutter of nerves in my stomach. “I hope so.”

  Gerard snickered. “If things go badly, text me. I’ll send dinner over from the restaurant. As long as you’re there, Byron will be happy.”

  I nodded gratefully. It was good to have a backup plan, although I hoped I wouldn’t need it.

  He glanced at his watch. “You’d better go. Your class starts soon, and I know Byron is looking forward to seeing you later.” He grinned with relief. “It’ll be good not to have to pretend I haven’t just seen you after tomorrow. I’m afraid neither of us are good liars.”

  I had to laugh with him; he was correct on that. Both of us had slipped a couple times, but luckily Byron hadn’t become suspicious.

  I kissed Gerard’s cheek. “Thank you again.”

  He smiled warmly. “My pleasure.”

  I slipped through the back door of the restaurant, glancing around the still-busy kitchen. Business was better than ever, the waiting list long, and dinner service was packed every evening. Still, all the chefs and kitchen staff waved and called out hellos, used to my appearance by now. Gerard was talking to one of the chefs and came over, looking concerned.

  “Are you all right, Julia? You’re late this evening. Byron was getting quite worried.”

  I nodded wearily. My professor had been on a tear and kept us all late. When I dropped by my rooming house to pick up my bag, my cranky landlady had been upset over something and yelled at me. She informed me she’d decided no longer to rent to students and I would have to find another place to live at the end of the month, which meant I had to be out before the term was even done. I had tried reasoning with her, but she said she was giving me a month’s notice and that was more than fair. She was always grumpy and rigid, but this time, she wouldn’t listen to me. Never mind that with the school year now partway through, the chances of me finding a place as reasonable were slim, or the fact that I had been an excellent tenant for two years. She was, apparently, “done with housing irresponsible people.” I had no idea what set her off, as I wasn’t irresponsible, but it had been an unexpected, unwelcome ending to my day.

  I had to put those thoughts aside, though. I would de
al with them after this weekend. I didn’t want anything to spoil Byron’s birthday.

  “Long class. Is he upstairs?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. I’ll go up.”

  I paused outside the door to Byron’s office. I could hear his muffled voice through the door, and he didn’t sound pleased. I was unsure if he was alone or if I should interrupt him, but Gerard said Byron was concerned. I gently rapped on the heavy wood, stepping back when it was flung open almost immediately by Byron himself. The phone was pressed to his ear, and he looked upset, his facial expression changing when he saw it was me.

  “Never mind,” he muttered into the phone and tossed it behind him. Reaching out, he dragged me into the office and kicked the door shut. He wrapped his arms around me, his mouth on mine immediately. He kissed me deeply, his tongue delving and possessive. Unsure what was causing his reaction, I clung to him, kissing him back and groaning as he lifted me, trapping me against the door. Finally, his head dropped to my shoulder with a heavy sigh as he set me back on my feet.

  “What was that for?” I whispered.

  His warm blue eyes were troubled. “You were two hours late, Julia. Two hours. You’re never late. I called your cell phone, and it went straight to voice mail. I called the rooming house, and that cranky landlady of yours told me you weren’t there and to stop bothering her—she was no help at all. Melinda hadn’t heard from you—I couldn’t find you.” He pressed his forehead to mine. “I was so worried, my girl.”

  I slipped my fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp. “I’m so sorry. My class ran late, and then the professor kept me back about my last assignment. He doesn’t let us have our cell phones on…and I forgot to turn it back on when I went to get my stuff…” I rambled until he laid his finger on my lips.

  “Okay, it’s okay now. You’re here.” He glanced at the bag I had dropped when he picked me up. “I have you the rest of the weekend, right?”

  “Yes. You’ll be sick of me by Sunday.”

  “Impossible.” He wrapped his arms back around me. “Nothing can happen to you. I need you too much.”