Yes Chef, No Chef - By Susan Willis Page 0,98

secure intimacy of his big body. "It's hard, isn't it?" she asked, "I mean, trying to move forward when there’s still a part of you stuck in the past, and even though I know Tim isn’t living like a monk it doesn't mean to say it's right for me, I suppose?"

One of his huge hands slid down the length of her back and massaged her until she could feel her eyelids drooping. She was completely and utterly relaxed. "It's just all so confusing, because I really do fancy you, but..."

She heard his breathing become shallow and all his chest muscles relax, and deciding he must be dozing off to sleep she closed her eyes, let the alcohol effects take over and surrendered herself into darkness.

Chapter Twenty Four

Who the bloody hell did she think she was? Tim raged jumping into the Chevrolet and saw flour from the dough on the side of his jeans. He brushed it off tutting with irritation and swung the car away from the outside of her flat to head down Grafton Road at great speed.

Her accusation about Julie had hit a raw nerve and was still ringing in his ears when he got back to the restaurant. Breathing deeply to calm himself down he wondered exactly where Sarah had seen him. But there again, he’d been so drunk that night she could have been in the restaurant when they were eating, or even outside where he’d been kissing Miss Cupcake.

The smell of cooked turkey wafted from the kitchen and Simon stood at the bench when he walked up to him clapping him on the back.

They examined the turkey together and Simon grinned enthusiastically. “It looks great, chef.”

Jessie stepped up to the bench and admired their handy work and Tim caught their excitement. “Well, as they say the proof is in the pudding,” he said. “Knife, please, Jessie.”

Tim carved the front of the bird cleanly and swiftly into thick slices and they all took a chunk to taste. The texture was moist, the traditional turkey flavour was excellent, and to make sure the duck and goose meat ran from one end to the other he carved right through the centre of the turkey. Simon wrapped some of the slices in pastry, brushed them with egg wash, and Jessie put them straight into the pre-heated oven.

“Oh Tim,” she said eagerly, “It’s going to make a great centrepiece for the royal banquet.”

Tim was back to his general good humour and agreed with her while making notes with Simon about the merits of duchess potatoes verses roast potatoes. Tim’s mobile rang and he walked away from them back to his office.

The call was from Luke who briefly told him because the Yorkshire company didn’t want to lose him they were arranging a transfer to a small branch near Notting Hill and, because he had holiday to take he’d be coming in less than a week. Tim was overjoyed that Luke had agreed to stay with him in the apartment, and not just for his company, because it meant that with a small amount of rent from him he could, for the foreseeable future, stay in the apartment. He made a mental note to ask his mum to send her cleaner across to spruce up the single bedroom.

When he lay in bed that night he thought about kneading the dough with Kate and how fantastic it had been to be so close to her gorgeous body again. It had felt familiar, yet at the same time still made him feel randy as hell, and from what he could remember from his drunken escapade with Miss Cupcake he knew she didn’t come anywhere close to what he’d had with Kate. Unable to sleep he turned onto his side and punched the pillow - it was obvious that Kate thought the worst of him now and who could blame her after hearing about Julie. He figured that Sarah must have seen them kissing outside the restaurant because Kate had taken such offence to it and he’d heard a smidgen of jealousy in her accusing voice. Which was silly because in the past she’d had no reason to doubt his feelings for her - he’d been utterly captivated by Kate from the first time he saw her.

He’d met her with Frances at a party and had been blown away with her natural and carefree manner, her glossy thick hair, tanned slim legs, and full breasts straining against a tightly buttoned cream shirt. And the