An image of her on his bed, her wrists tied together behind her back, her tits jutting out at him, into his mouth, flashed through his brain, sending his c**k surging against his fly.
As though they felt the heat of his gaze, her ni**les beaded beneath the thin fabric of her dress. He grinned and made his way over to her, cooking lessons forgotten. For a woman like this, he'd find the time to squeeze her into his schedule.
And into his bed.
She crossed her arms across her chest, unaware that the movement made her br**sts spill up and out the top. Every man in the room was eating her up and asking for seconds, but Jack was determined to get there first. It was, after all, his restaurant.
The first taste of honey should be his.
"Hello;' he said, and the woman spun to face him, an 0 of surprise on her red lips. Up close, she was a buxom Snow White, so much hotter than any Disney character had a right to be.
"Hi;' she said, giving him a small smile. "Are you looking for someone?"
She looked around the restaurant uncertainly. ''I'm supposed to be meeting Jack Gerard here, but it's so busy maybe I'll just leave him a note with the bartender."
Jack grinned. He couldn't help it. This incredible woman was his tourist. And here he'd been cursing his luck for agreeing to a weekend of cooking lessons. Things were looking up. Even the way his name poured out of her p**n -star lips gave him a raging hard-on. He couldn't wait to get started.
He held out his hand, pleased by the jolt of awareness that shot through him as their palms met. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Jack." The woman's eyes grew bigger, and he could see small flecks of green in the deep, rich blue. "And you are?"
"Rose. Rose Morgan:'
"You and 1 are going to have a lot of fun this weekend, Rose;' . he said as he leaned down closer to her sweet-smelling hair. "1 hope you're hungry."
TWO
ROSE GAPED AT JACK GERARD. She was hungry all right, starving even. But not for food. All she could think about was sex. Hot, wild sex.
Jack was broad shouldered, tanned, and utterly gorgeous. His square jaw made her heart pound like a snare drum, as did the fact that he was six feet of pure muscle, delivered straight from her fantasies into real life.
Vivid images of this dark-haired man, whose green eyes glowed against his tan, plunging in and out of her while she screamed for more assaulted her. What would it be like to run her fingers through his thick, dark hair? Would she have to stand on her tippy-toes to press her lips to his? Would his dark green eyes fade to black when he was braced on his forearms over her in bed, coming in her, so thick she could barely stretch to fit him?
Oh, God, what was wrong with her?
She forced herself to pull her hand back from his warm, sensual grasp, to take a step back to distance herself from his potent maleness, but she got stuck against a wall of humanity at the bar. Her words caught in her throat, but she pushed them out anyway.
''I'm afraid I can't accept the cooking lessons:'
He raised an eyebrow, and she got the sense that he was laughing at her. But in a nice way. "You can't?" She shook her head, trying to be more emphatic, more firm.
Something she was terrible at. Especially when all she wanted to do was stare at Jack for two straight days. Oh, yeah, and have acrobatic sex with him while she was at it.
"I promised my friends I'd spend the weekend with them:' she said, feeling like a prim schoolmarm. She had a vision of Vanessa telling her not to mess this up and quickly forced it away. ''I'm afraid you'll have to find someone else to give the prize to:'
Someone who'd probably spend more time in Jack's bed than his kitchen. Someone skinny and confident and all the things Rose knew she was never going to be, no matter how many spa diets she went on. But instead of nodding and telling her that he understood her predicament, Jack's hand made its way around to the small of her back and he was guiding her through the throng of people to an empty table at the end of the bar.
"Why don't we have a drink?"
Okay, so she'd have one drink with Jack. And then she'd leave.
Since they were in the heart of the wine country, she racked her brain for a beverage that wouldn't offend but was still low calorie.
"I'd love a white wine spritzer:' she said just before Jack set down two martini glasses filled with cocoa brown liquid.
"How about a chocolate martini instead?"
It sounded like heaven, but that was beside the point. Rose was starting to shake her head when Jack grinned and she forgot what she'd been about to say.
"I know we're in Napa:' he said with a grin, "but sometimes a martini is the right way to get things started." Rose looked up from the martini. What did he mean by "getting things started"? Everything out of his mouth so far had sounded like an invitation to join him in bed. Which was ridiculous in the extreme. A man like him-sex in a chef suit-would never, ever want to be with a woman like her. The minute she'd walked into the restaurant she'd felt like an utter fool for wearing her formfitting tank dress in front of a man who was no doubt used to ultra fashionable, perfect women. Everyone in the restaurant was probably wondering what he was doing with her.
All at once, Rose was overwhelmed by sudden fury at everyone and everything. At Elliot for being an ass**le. At her parents for buying her that gym membership in high school in a passive aggressive maneuver to let her know that she needed to tone up and lose weight. At Vanessa for not knowing for one second what it was like to be less than perfect, less than desirable. At Carrie for turning down the kind of marriage proposal that Rose could only dream of.
Before she knew what she was doing, she picked up her martini and took a sip. As the smooth, rich flavor ran across her tongue and slid down her throat, she groaned, "Oh, God, that's amazing." Jack's eyes turned hot as he stared at her across the small, candlelit table. "I agree, Rose. Absolutely amazing:'
He hadn't tasted his drink yet, and for a moment Rose got the sense that he was talking about her, not the drink. She shivered under his gaze. He looked like he wanted to eat her, not his own scrumptious cooking, for dinner.
She took a deep breath. Talk about setting herself up for disappointment. Hadn't she learned her lesson yet? How many men would have to dump her, before she finally accepted the fact that earthly gods like Jack Gerard did not go for round, boring accountants?
She tried to put the drink down, but she couldn't help herself.
She needed another sip. One more orgasmic taste. Okay, she thought, savoring the rich chocolate flavor, that's enough pleasure for one night. She needed to get back to the virtuous plan. Low calorie food, a hundred laps in the pool, and no wild sex with a stranger.