Page 84 of The Nanny and the Hothead
She leaned against the counter, then spied the order pad. Picking it up, she plucked a pen from the supply bin. “One Signature Louise, Chef,” she called, scribbling the order, then slipped the ticket onto the strip.
She might as well get in some practice.
“Order up. One Signature Louise with extra apple butter and extra Dijon,” he called, flipping the entire sandwich onto a cutting board with one flick of his wrist.
Her jaw dropped. “Extra?”
He shrugged off her outrage, an arrogant little movement that had her biting her lip.
This food truck chef was crazy sexy!
Whipping out a knife, he sliced the ooey-gooey cheesy delight into two triangles before sliding the halves onto a paper plate. “I must have read the ticket wrong,” he answered. He wasn’t smiling. At first glance, he looked like his usual hotheaded self. But his eyes gave him away. They positively glittered with confidence.
And, hello, Tingle Town!
He turned off the stovetop, then handed her the plate. “Take one bite. After that, you won’t be able to stop yourself.”
Skeptically, she accepted the sandwich. “I don’t know about this, Mitch. I’m a pretty cut and dry grilled cheese-only type of girl.”
“Are you sure about that?” he countered, his voice kindling the heat between her thighs.
It’s a sandwich. Get ahold of yourself, woman!
“Don’t think of the components individually. The savory cheese and the sweetness of the apple butter complement each other. The Dijon adds the kick they need to come together,” he explained, which made sense, but she still wasn’t sure.
“If I hate it, you can’t go all hothead on me,” she warned, but he wasn’t bothered by her ultimatum. In fact, those blue eyes of his darkened with the challenge.
He came closer. “How about this? If you hate it, you can pretend it’s a salad and hurl it at me.”
This man! Who did he think he was dealing with?
The anticipation sent a shiver down her spine. “Deal,” she agreed, then took a bite, and OH MY GOD! She closed her eyes for a few seconds, allowing her tastebuds to take control. The hothead was right. It was the perfect blend of savory, sweet, and tangy. She moaned, not giving a damn who heard her. “It’s like a food nirvana,” she crooned between bites and sighs. She finished the first triangle like a feasting lioness, then licked the cheese off the tip of her thumb, humming her pleasure.
“Don’t do that, Charlotte,” Mitch bit out through gritted teeth.
In her food orgy haze, she’d forgotten the man was watching her.
What had gotten into him? Wasn’t he the one who was sure that she’d love it?
She froze, her thumb against her lips. “Do what?”
“Make those sounds and lick your fingers,” he answered. His rigid body looked as if he was on the brink of coming apart at the seams.
A dizzying, palpable current passed between them that had nothing to do with the ambrosia of a sandwich she’d hoovered in front of the man.
“Why not?” she breathed, her nipples hardening into taut pearls.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. He reminded her of the Big Bad Wolf with his blazing eyes before the vicious creature tried to gobble up Little Red Riding Hood. Except, unlike that red-cloaked gal who hightailed it out of there, this redhead trembled beneath the Big Bad Wolf’s devilishly attentive gaze.
He took her plate and set it on the counter. “Because it makes me want to do things to you that I know I shouldn’t.”
She understood the impulse.
She reached behind and held on to the edge of the small sink, needing to anchor herself, as a titillating thrill rippled through her body. If she was in her right mind, she’d thank him for the sandwich, politely excuse herself, then return—alone—to her room.
“Whatthingsdo you want to do to me?” she asked instead, diving headfirst into the pool of desire welling between them.
“I want to taste you again,” he answered, caging her in as he had against the RV. So male and so utterly masculine, the possessive posture had her spellbound. But there was also something innately protective about it that heightened her arousal.
