Pleasure. Joy. Need.
He grasped her wrists and held them over her head.
Her muscles clenched as she neared the edge, and he felt as if they poised upon the path of no return—trapped partly in the past, part present, the demons threatened and suddenly she fought the final fall.
Raw fear gleamed within emerald depths.
But this time he wouldn’t let her hide.
“I love you, Miranda.”
His voice echoed in the room and he tightened his grip as he thrust one final time.
She broke apart beneath him, sobbing his name, and he let himself explode.
Shock waves rippled his body as the orgasm took hold. He gave it all to her, gave her everything he had and prayed he’d be enough. And as he settled back down and clasped her in his arms, he brushed against wetness.
Slowly, he tipped her chin up.
Tears streamed helplessly down her cheeks. “I love you, Gavin.
I love you.”
… Hours later, they snuck nak*d from the bedroom and into the kitchen. The cool tiles on her bare feet shot goose bumps over her body. “I’m starving. I’ll eat anything.” She pulled open cabinet after cabinet and found nothing. Her stomach growled loudly.
“I know. Why don’t they have 24-hour pizza delivery, dammit? Hang on.” Her lover wrestled the box from the upper cabinet. The gleam of the moonlight struck his ass, and she leaned back against the counter tops.
Damn, the man had a fine package. In front and back.
He set the box in front of her with a frown. “We’re in trouble.
There’s only enough for one bowl.”
“I called it first.” She grabbed, but he was always faster than her.
With lightning speed, he plucked it safely back in his grasp. “Hey, no fair!”
He clucked his tongue. “I did all the work. I need more protein.”
She snorted. “This is all empty carbs and sugar.
But if we’re going on that argument, then I had more orgasms.
Therefore, I need more sustenance.”
“Cheap shot. Okay, you broke up with me, technically, so I was more damaged. I should get the Cocoa Puffs.”
“Hell no! You ripped my heart apart when you walked out the door. I get the Puffs.”
They both paused at the impasse. Gavin stroked his chin. “You know, since we’re in a grown-up, committed relationship right now, we should do the honorable thing.”
“What?”
“Share.”
She cocked her head and thought about it.
“Okay. I can share.”
“Me, too.”
They smiled at each other like idiots, nak*d at midnight in his kitchen. He took down two bowls and carefully split the treat, provided the spoons, poured milk, and they both munched on their snack. A joyful lightness streamed through her body. Sharing was the best.
“I have to get back to real food tomorrow,” she commented. “Chips and ice cream do not a diet make.”
He slurped at his milk.
“Me, too. I’ve drunk beer and ate pretzels for the past three days. Brando’s gonna kill me.”
“You never went to work?”
“Nope.”
Her face softened. “Andy came knocking at my door.
Told me to shower.”
Gavin laughed. “We’re a pair, huh?” They ate in silence for a while until he spoke her name. “Will you tell me about those first few months after I left?”
When she winced, he reached out and took her hand. “You don’t have to if it will cause you pain. I just want to know everything.
Not to punish either of us.
Just to understand. Does that make sense?”
Slowly, she nodded.
Funny, already when she poked at the bruise, a scab began to form and it didn’t hurt as bad. “I had really bad morning sickness.
Lasted all day for the first eight weeks. I tried to lean toward Irish and German food, which are a bit blander. I seemed to do well with potatoes.”
“Were you happy about having the baby?”
She nodded. “Yes. I was always scared because I was alone, but I loved him or her already.”
“Did you call anyone to help? Your mom? Grandmother? Andy?”
The memory wafted past her and the familiar hurt panged. “No. I didn’t know Andy at the time, and my grandmother was too old to bother with my problems. She ended up passing months after the miscarriage.”
He cursed and squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, baby.
I hate knowing you were alone.”
“I don’t feel alone anymore.”
Gavin sucked in his breath at her admission.
Pressed a tender kiss against her palm. “You’ll never be alone again.”
They ate their cereal in comfortable silence, until all the chocolate milk had properly been slurped up.
“Tell me about your grandmother. I want to know more about her. Did she get you into cooking?”
“Yes. We were really close, and she inspired me to be a chef. She believed in making everything by hand, and we didn’t even own a microwave. Food was an art form, and I was taught about texture, flavor, herbs. She had a palette like a master.”
“She sounds just like you.”
Miranda nodded. “When I brought my dolls in for a party, we never had just tea. We had a four-course meal.”
Gavin laughed.
“She had bright red hair like me and a famous temper. If I stepped out of line, I paid dearly.”
“You never talk about your parents.”
A breath shuddered from her chest. He reached over and cupped his palms over her cheeks. As if he sensed something deep shift inside of her, he pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. “You can tell me, Miranda.”
She nodded, and confessed another one of her secrets. “My mom got pregnant with me when she was a teenager. My grandmother encouraged her to have the baby and marry the father, but my dad refused and took off before I even came. He didn’t want to be married, or be tied down with a child. After my mom had me, she had a rough time with depression. She got into drugs, and spent years on the street. My grandmother raised me, and tried to get my mom help, but she didn’t want any. She disappeared, and we’ve never heard from her again.” A shrug lifted one shoulder. “I guess no one really wanted me enough.”
He pressed his forehead against hers and spoke the words against her lips.
“Your grandmother wanted you and loved you.” Gavin paused. “And I want you and love you, Miranda.”
Joy shimmered in waves and crushed the last of the dark. Gavin put the bowls in the sink, wiped her mouth carefully with a napkin, and placed a kiss on her lips. She leaned into his strength and rested her head on his shoulder. This time, when he led her back to bed, their lovemaking took on a sacred tenderness that shook her soul and made her realize she’d never be the same woman again.
… Gavin punched in the number of the code for the conference call and set up the Skype. The last thing he wanted to do was play corporate executive, but Sam insisted. The younger executive was Gavin’s right-hand man, and if Gavin succeeded, he succeeded. He was due in China soon, and the set up was key. Unfortunately, MacKenzie and Associates believed he was the only one able to target the huge electronics corporation and make their dream come true.
Dreams in the business world revolved around money. Or prestige. Or power.
Now, he’d be at the top of the food chain, amidst it all. Full partner.
So, why did the thought of leaving make him slightly ill? The familiar pang beat through him as his colleague came over the screen.
“Tell me you’re done playing waiter and getting your ass on a plane, Gavin.”
He chuckled at the image before him. The pinstripe suit, red tie, and conservative hair cut looked the same on everyone at the firm. His hand automatically checked the length of his hair and realized he needed to get a cut. The shaggy ends looked ragged and reminded him of a surfer dude.
“My three months aren’t up, Sam. Don’t tell me you’re so intimidated you can’t take a step without me.”
His friend flashed a set of perfect white teeth.
“Touché. I’m sending you some files I need you to study. Weaknesses and strengths of upper management.
Some names of the lovely administrative assistants.”
He waggled his brow.
“Janitorial staff is pretty tight, but I found a guy who’s willing to tattle if we need leverage.”
His normal business tactics suddenly seemed… wrong. If they battled with another company, creativity for the campaign was number one. Number two was who you knew, what information you owned, and a little blackmail never hurt gaining the upper hand.
Gavin shook off the wimpy inner voice causing havoc with his meeting. “Sure. I’ll look at them tonight. I need to—”
“Gavin! We got a crisis, you gotta get out here.”
He swiveled in his chair and glared at his brother.
“Out, Brando. I’m on a conference call.”
“Dude, you know that new assistant chef you hired?”
“Yeah.”
“Tony found him tweaking the special behind his back. They had a fight about how to prepare it, because this guy thinks he’s a serious foodie. Tony put him in his place, but just found him changing the spices on his own.
He insisted on saffron, saying it brought the fish to a higher flavor, but it’s a f**king Italian special!”
His head pounded and Gavin rubbed his temple.
“Umm, okay, I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Fine. But the dude has a black eye and he called the police to press charges against Tony.”
“Fuck. I’m coming.”
“Thought so.” Brando waved to the guy on the screen and left.
Sam cackled. “You have got to be kidding me.
You’re settling brawls between chefs? You’re starting to scare me, Gavin. Come on, leave early. It’ll be like the old days. The lure of a challenge, partying at the top clubs, posh hotels. I’m setting up some free time while we’re there, for touring. I know you like that.”
The world he lusted after throughout his youth now seemed tainted and old.
He should be dying to get back in the game. He always hated the restaurant industry. Late nights, hard work, low profit. Crazy chefs, hard ass critics, and nothing to show for it but a plate of good food.
Then why did it feel lately like he was finally home? “I’ll get back to you tomorrow, Sam. I can’t leave yet.”
“Your funeral, man. See ya.”
The screen went dark.
He jumped out of the chair and shot into the kitchen.
Jules, the assistant chef, held a piece of raw meat on his eye.
Why the hell did he use the good ribeye instead of an ice pack? Tony ranted in Italian about betrayal and codes and honor. Brando hung on to Tony’s arm, and Pop looked on the whole episode with a confused expression on his face. Ah, crap, another nightmare.
What would happen when he left? “Jules, let’s talk. No need to bring police into our business.”
“Bullshit.” The rounding out of his consonants gave him an odd accent Gavin could never place. “I am humiliated. I try to make the food better and I get a black eye.
I will be throwing him into jail.”