Who's the Boss? - Erin McCarthy Page 0,45

to see her in just that T-shirt and the boots. While I took her hard against the nearest wall.

Something about my expression must have given my thoughts away because her eyes widened and her tongue peeked out to moisten her bottom lip.

“I’m a guest, not just the chef,” she said. “I needed party footwear.”

“I thought this was a baby shower, not a party.”

“Why are you fighting with me?” she asked. “This is a joyous occasion.” But she gave me a smile, like we had a private joke, which maybe we did.

Damn, I wanted her.

“You can do the main course,” I said. “I’m not going to fight with you, Isla. I respect you as both a person and a chef.”

Now her smile turned into a smirk. “That almost sounds believable.”

“I’ll prove it to you. You can be the head chef for this party and I’ll be your sous chef.” How could she resist having sex with me after I gave her control in the kitchen? I was guaranteed a spot in her bed again.

Besides, it was still looming over my head that we had to get along or I was going to lose my job and that was a big fat hell no.

“Oh, really?” Her voice was dripping with suspicion. “What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch. Why would you assume there’s a catch? We need a plan to divvy up responsibilities and we can’t both be in charge. Show me what you got, Chef.”

“It’s not as fun to know you’re allowing me to order you around, but I’ll take what I can get.” Isla peeled off her leather jacket and tossed it on the back of one of the stools pushed up to the massive kitchen island. “Let’s do this.”

“Fantastic.” I turned to Felicia. “Any last minute special requests?” I asked. “We can get creative.”

“Oh, no, I don’t want to be creative. I’m creating an infant, that’s enough for me,” she said, pulling open the refrigerator door. “Would anyone like a drink while you’re locked in a battle of wills?” She gave me a look. “I admit it, your brother was right.”

“My brother was right? About what? He’s never right.”

“He said you and Isla would bicker. He wasn’t wrong, was he?”

“I don’t bicker,” Isla said.

“Bollocks,” was Felicia’s response to that. “I’ve never heard anything so absurd in my entire life.” She pulled out sparkling water and set three bottles on the marble island.

“Me, either,” I said. “I think you enjoy bickering with me.” Got off bickering with me. That’s what she did. It was foreplay for us. “She also likes to throw drinks in my face. Or tries to, anyway.”

Isla looked like she wanted to repeat the project. “Once! And thanks for tattling on me.”

That made me laugh. “I didn’t know it was a secret.” I eyed her. “Is anything else a secret?”

She knew exactly what I was referring to. To my surprise she stared me boldly down. “I have no secrets.”

That unnerved me. Had she already told Felicia about the other night in her apartment? Or was it too inconsequential to her to be deemed worthy of being called a secret?

“Everyone has secrets.”

“I don’t.” She gave me a look that could have seduced the enemy.

A mysterious, sensual, teasing look that made my cock instantly hard.

“A secret implies you’re ashamed of something you’ve done. I don’t live my life like that.”

She was saying she didn’t regret having sex with me.

I fell in love with her courage, her sincerity, and her flaming self respect.

Holy. Shit. I could fall in love with Isla.

Nine

“What’s taking so long with that foie?” I asked Sean. “You’re putting us behind schedule.”

“Sorry, Chef,” Sean said, sounding appropriately deferential. “I’ll pick up the pace.”

Oh, this was fun. It must be killing him to take orders from me. On the other hand, I was loving every single second of it. Not out of spite, because if I were totally honest, Sean wasn’t a difficult boss. No, it was more like a combination of therapy, letting go of the initial anger I’d had over losing the position to him, and increasing the sexual tension between us.

Felicia had chosen a modern twist on a traditional British menu, which wasn’t our usual arena, but it was fun to do something different. Her requests had been that nothing could be difficult or messy to eat and that it didn’t conflict with the champagne she was serving.

Sean and I had taken over the entire kitchen island with our prep and I’d already heard Felicia fretting that