Recipe for Desire Read online

  “Mr. Devon Harris is downstairs,” the doorman said. “And you have a package.”

  She heard Devon say he would bring the package to her, if that was all right. “Please send him up and he can bring the package,” Marie said, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. But why was she so excited to see forbidden fruit? Because she knew she couldn’t have it and it made her want him even more. Just like when she was a little girl and begged for a pony.

  She opened the door and offered Devon a slight smile as he walked in and handed her a box from a florist. “Where do you want me to put breakfast?” he asked after saying hello.

  “The coffee table is fine. Thanks for this,” she said. “This will be the first time I get to taste the food of the illustrious Devon Harris.”

  Devon laughed as his eyes roamed Marie’s body before setting the bag of breakfast treats on her coffee table. He brought warm croissants with peach preserves, salmon cakes, and grits with cheddar cheese and baked apple slices covered in cinnamon.

  “That’s a lot of food,” she said as she looked at the arrangement on her table. “You eat like this every morning?”

  “I’m thinking of doing breakfast on Saturdays and Sundays at Hometown Delights, so I made some samples for the ladies of what we could offer. It’s hard to cook for one person,” he said. “Especially when you’re used to feeding masses.”

  “Oh,” she said, feeling a bit disappointed. Marie had thought this breakfast had been something special just for her. She needed to purge those thoughts from her mind. Devon was just a nice guy. Something she wasn’t used to, considering her dating history and her asshole of an ex-fiancé.

  “What did they think of it?” she asked.

  “You’re going to be the first to sample it,” Devon said as she sat on the sofa. “Where are your plates?”

  “The cabinet above the sink,” she said, then attempted to stand. “I could get ...”

  “Keep your seat,” he replied as he took off toward the kitchen. When Devon left the room, Marie felt as if she could breathe normally again. She hadn’t even realized that she’d been holding her breath, acting as if she was just cool with him being there and feeding her. If this was supposed to make her want him less, chill her hormones to him, it wasn’t working.

  Devon knew he was playing with fire as he walked into Marie’s kitchen. She had a ride to the shelter, she had enough money to buy her own damned breakfast, and she was so cute in those sneakers. He reached up into the cabinet and grabbed two plates. Setting them on the counter, Devon walked to the entrance of the kitchen and asked, “Do you want some juice or should I fix this coffee in the brewer for you?”

  “I can ... coffee and juice,” she said with a smile that made Devon’s heart flip like an Olympic gymnast.

  “Gotcha,” he said. “What kind of juice do you have in the refrigerator?” Devon turned toward the stainless steel ice box, wondering if she actually had food in there or if she just got the top-of-the-line refrigerator because it matched her décor.

  “There’s some blueberry juice and orange juice. You can just mix them for me,” she called out.

  Devon shook his head as he opened the door and pulled out the bottles of juice. He mixed them as she’d asked, then grabbed the coffee mug from the counter that Marie had obviously put there for her morning shot of caffeine. “How do you take your coffee?” Devon asked.

  “Cream, four sugars,” she replied.

  “That’s a lot of sugar.”

  “What can I say? I’m extra sweet,” she quipped. He knew one thing was certain: She did have the sweetest kiss he’d ever tasted. He was sure that it didn’t come from the four sugars in her coffee, though. After fixing the juice and coffee, Devon gathered the mug, the plates, and the glass of juice, then headed into the living room to feed Marie.

  She’d gotten a head start on eating, he discovered when he entered the living room and she was biting into a croissant dripping with preserves. As he watched her lips close around the fresh bread, Devon felt a tightness in his crotch. Then, as she licked the peach preserves from her lips, he wanted to feel those lips again. Needed them pressed against his.

  This is wrong, he thought as he crossed over to her. “Here you go,” he said as he handed her the juice and set the coffee and plates on the table in front of her. When he noticed a bit of peach on her chin, Devon wiped it away with his thumb and held her chin. They gazed into each other’s eyes; the air sizzled with sensuality and unspoken desire. Marie tilted her head slightly and brushed her lips against his. Devon captured her lips, savoring her unique sweetness and the tang of the peach preserves. He’d wanted to kiss her since the moment he walked into her penthouse, and it was a delicious treat this morning.

  Marie pressed her hand against his chest. “You’re going to have to stop teasing me, Devon,” she said in a husky whisper.

  “Teasing you?” he replied. “I’m teasing myself.”

  “How so? I can give you just what you want,” she replied, then slowly stroked his cheek. Devon’s erection nearly burst through his zipper as he took two steps back from her.

  “We can’t,” he said. “This isn’t right.”

  “No one has to know. We want each other, and I don’t know if this community service is going to work with me thinking about you naked every time I walk in the door. Besides, if it’s horrible, we don’t have to worry about it again.”

  Devon folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head to the side. “It won’t be horrible,” he said defiantly.

  “Then stop talking and prove it to me.”

  He shook his head and smirked coolly. “In five hundred hours, I’d be happy to. Marie, I don’t want to take advantage of you, and you’re not going to do the same to me.”

  If she could’ve leapt to her feet, she would’ve gotten in his face and slapped him as hard as she could. “Why do think I’m going to take advantage of you?”

  “I’m just saying,” he said. “I don’t want it to look as if you’re getting special treatment because ...”

  “Thanks for the breakfast,” she said. “But why don’t you go. I’ll get to My Sister’s Keeper on my own.” Her comely face was contorted with an angry scowl, and Devon couldn’t turn away from her.

  “Marie, let’s be real for a second. I don’t know you, only what I’ve read about you in the papers and seen on TV. If I’m wrong about the image you’ve created for yourself, then prove it to me.”

  “I don’t have to prove a damned thing to you.”

  “You’re right, you don’t. But I’m not trying to play games or ...”

  “Or what?” she snapped. “Take the stick out of your ass and do something that you want to do?” Marie slowly rose from her seat on the sofa. She tottered over to Devon and tilted her head. “Sorry that I’m not one of your fans falling at your feet and being sugary sweet. That’s not who I am and that’s why you want me.”

  “I want you because sometimes you’re sweet and very sexy. Right now, you’re acting like the spoiled brat I read about in the news. Big turn off,” he said, his voice cool, but as he stared into her eyes, his body was anything but.

  She sucked her bottom lip in. Did he just say that to her? Marie wasn’t used to a man talking to her like that. She gave orders and he did what she said. Was Devon worth the headache? Yes, he was, she surmised after giving him a cool once-over that tugged at the irrational anger that she’d built up. Devon was right, she had worked hard to build her party-girl reputation. She’d given very provocative quotes to the press, pulled stunts that did make her look as if she would do whatever she wanted to get ahead. She couldn’t blame Devon for being apprehensive about going there with her. Now her father’s warning about her need for any and all press made sense.

  “Listen,” she said after taking a cooling and calming breath. “I can take a hint, and you don’t want to cross this imaginary line you’ve drawn. But for the record, if we do cross that line, I understand that it would have noth
ing to do with my community service.”

  Devon placed his hand on her shoulder and smiled at her. “Glad we have an understanding,” he said. She glanced at his hand on her shoulder and promised herself that she would not come on to him again. But his touch sent sizzles down her spine and she felt a hot pool of moisture forming in her panties as he stroked her shoulder.

  “Do you want to finish your breakfast before we go?” he asked. “I’m actually kind of hungry.”

  Marie nodded. “All right, let’s eat and then go to work.”

  Despite promises he’d made to himself to keep his hands to himself, Devon picked Marie up and sat her on the sofa. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself; we have a lot of work to do at My Sister’s Keeper today.”

  Once she was sitting down, Marie gave him a salute. “Yes, sir,” she said, then grabbed another croissant. Devon eased onto the seat beside Marie and filled their plates with the food, and they ate in an uncomfortable silence as they stole glances at one another.

  “This is good,” Marie said as she spooned preserves in her grits.

  “Thanks,” he said, then laughed. “I’ve seen people put a lot of things in grits, but never peach preserves.”

  “I told you, I like sweet things.”

  “I see,” he replied as he polished off a salmon cake. Marie held her fork out to him.

  “Try it.”

  Devon allowed her to feed him her concoction, and surprisingly, it was tasty. The buttery grits and the sweet peach gave his taste buds a surprise. It reminded him of the woman feeding him. Spicy, sweet, and sticky.

  “That is good,” he said.

  Marie nodded and took another bite of her grits before offering Devon some more. As his lips closed around the fork, she tried not to think of his lips closing like that around her nipple or between her legs, sucking her pearl until she released her desire.

  “I guess we’d better wrap this up and head to the shelter,” Devon said, breaking into Marie’s thoughts.

  “Right,” she said as he began gathering their plates. While he was in the kitchen, she placed the leftovers in the boxes Devon had brought them over in.

  “Ready?” Devon asked. He glanced at the table and saw the food boxed up and smiled. “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” she said as she slowly rose from the table while Devon placed the food in his thermal bag.

  “Would you come to Hometown Delights for a breakfast spread like that?” he asked as he strapped his bag across his shoulder.

  “I would, if you served breakfast after twelve P.M.,” she quipped. Devon walked around the coffee table and leaned into Marie, offering his shoulder so that she could gain her balance. The way she gripped his shoulder made Devon want to strip her bare and take her right there on the sofa. He wanted to feel the bite of her nails in his skin as he thrust into her heated pool of desire.

  He turned away from those bewitching eyes and delicious lips, pretending he had to cough.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, leaning closer to Devon. Her supple breast brushed against his forearm, and Devon faked another cough.

  “Dry throat,” he said. “I’m good.”

  Marie looked at the white florist box Devon had brought in when he’d arrived. “Do you mind if I sneak a peek before we leave? And you can grab some juice for your dry throat.”

  Devon nodded. “We have time for that,” he said as he led her over to the bar. Marie leaned against one of the stools as Devon headed into the kitchen to get a fast drink. As he reached for a glass, Marie shrieked as if she’d seen a mouse or worse. Forgetting the juice he didn’t need anyway, Devon rushed over to her. “Are you all right?” he asked as he watched her toss a dozen long-stemmed red and white roses across the room. The petals rained down like a floral snowstorm.

  “That sorry son of a bitch!” she groaned. “Roses? Roses are supposed to make up for what he did?”

  Devon folded his arms across his chest, hiding his laugh because he knew when she calmed down, this was not going to be pretty to clean up. Women and their emotional outbursts. Who does she think she’s hurting? He crossed over to her as she beat another innocent rose to death.

  “Marie,” he said. “You do realize that you’re going to have to clean this up—on crutches.”

  She faced him with a wild look in her eyes. “You don’t understand, William had some nerve to send me these roses after he humiliated me!”

  “And this does what to him?”

  “You know what?” she said, then sighed deeply. “You’re right, and I really don’t like you.”

  Devon took the rose stems from her hands and smiled. “You’ll learn to love me.”

  That’s what I’m afraid of, she thought as they headed out the door.

  Chapter 11

  When Devon and Marie arrived at My Sister’s Keeper, he gave her an assignment that she could sit down and complete while he taught his cooking class. Marie didn’t mind writing a few press releases about the restaurant’s fund-raiser for the shelter, even though she had initially thought he was trying to exploit her. Had she not been so hardheaded, she might not be sitting there with a twisted ankle. Marie crinkled her nose as the computer froze up on her again. “They really need to upgrade these systems,” she muttered as she pressed Control, Alt, Delete again. She waited for the computer to reboot and turned toward the kitchen, watching Devon as he slowly chopped some vegetables. The women watched him closely, soaking up the lesson he was teaching. Marie focused on his strong arms, because he’d shed his chef’s jacket as if it was hot in the enclosure. His arms reminded her of cut ebony wood, strong enough to hold her until the world stopped spinning. She bounced her foot and chewed her bottom lip as she was lost in a fantasy of being laid across that counter and made love to.

  “Excuse me. Excuse me,” Bria said, breaking into Marie’s thoughts.

  Marie turned and faced the girl and smiled. “Yes?”

  Bria glanced down at Marie’s feet. “Those shoes are hot,” she said. “But anyway, are you done with the press release?”

  Marie shook her head. “This computer keeps freezing up on me.”

  “It does that a lot,” she said. “Have you been saving your work?”

  Marie nodded and noticed that Bria was still looking at her shoes. “What size do you wear?” she asked her.

  “Oh, umm, size eight,” she replied quietly.

  Marie nodded and untied her shoe, then removed it from her foot. “Try it on; I rarely, meaning never, wear these. If they fit, you’re welcome to them.”

  Bria put the shoe on and smiled brightly when she tied it up tightly. “This is a hot shoe. Why don’t you like it?”

  Marie shrugged. “I guess it was made for you and not me.”

  “And you’re really going to give me these?” Bria held her foot out and shifted it from side to side. There was one thing that Marie knew, and that’s how a new pair of shoes made a woman feel.

  “Sure, you can have them,” Marie said. “As a matter of fact, if you lead me to a computer that works, we can go shopping next week.”

  Bria cocked her head to the side. “Why are you being so nice to me? Yesterday, you were acting like a ...”

  “Raging bitch?” Marie finished.

  “Well,” Bria replied, “kind of. It was obvious that you didn’t want to be here.”

  “Have you ever gotten away with everything and then finally had to take your lumps? It’s never easy, but since I have to be here, I want to help.”

  Bria didn’t reply, she just pointed to another computer. “This one works better,” she said after a moment of silence.

  “Bria,” Marie said, “where did you go?”

  The young woman leaned over and untied the shoe, then handed it to Marie. “People always say they want to help, but it only seems to make things worse.”

  “Well, I’ve never said that I would help you before and ...”

  “Oh, please,” Bria said. “I Googled you last night; I’m sure you don
’t want to help me at all. What will it do for your party image?”

  “Look,” Marie said. “I’m not going to sit here and pretend that I’ve changed overnight. I still like to party and have a good time, but that has nothing to do with you and me in this moment.”

  “Whatever,” Bria said. “I’m going to the store.” Before Marie could put her shoe on and go after her, Devon was heading in her direction.

  “What’s going on out here?” he asked as he saw Bria tear out the door.

  Marie shook her head and shrugged. “We were talking, she liked my shoes, and ...”

  “You got into an argument with her about shoes?”

  “Are you going to let me finish?” Marie snapped. “I told her she could have the shoes and that we could go shopping next week because I wanted to help her, and she just flipped a switch.”

  Devon squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Bria is really hard to get a read on and ...”

  “Go to hell,” Marie snapped as she slowly rose to her feet. “I was trying to talk to her and do something nice for the girl because she was helping me with the computer, and you assume that I’m arguing about some shoes that I’m only wearing because I twisted my ankle?”

  “I made a mistake,” he said. “I overreacted because Bria has been having a hard time.”

  Marie took a calming breath; it wasn’t as if she’d given him any reason to believe that she wouldn’t fly off the handle after the scene he’d witnessed with the roses. “All right,” she said. “Maybe you should go after her and make sure she’s all right.”

  “Are we OK? I don’t want to keep arguing with you. We have a long time to work together.”

  Marie nodded, but kept silent. She didn’t want to argue either. Devon headed out the door and she banged her hand against the computer keyboard, then started typing the press release—again.