Kiss The Cook

He shook his head. 'Not now, thanks.'

The proximity of his glistening skin was having a strange effect on her stomach. Stepping away from him, she asked, 'How's it going?'

'Good. I just finished changing the oil. I gave you a complete tune-up and your battery is hooked up to my recharger. All that's left is changing the spark plugs.' He indicated the opened hood with a jerk of his head. 'Wanna watch?'

'Sure, but I have to warn you: I know diddly squat about cars.'

'That's okay. I know diddly squat about making dessert.'

Melanie followed him to the front of the car, watching him open a package of what she assumed were spark plugs. She wasn't sure what fascinated her more-the ease with which he selected foreign-looking items from his toolbox, or the way his muscles bunched and flexed while he worked. Whatever it was, she was soon thoroughly engrossed, and surprisingly curious.

She leaned over the engine with him, watching his every move, and asked a hundred questions.

'What's that little do-flickit?'

'That's the air filter,' he said, screwing a spark plug into place.

'How about that thingamabob there?'

'The carburetor.'

'I've heard of that. What's it do?'

'It vaporizes liquid fuel and controls its mixing with air for combustion in the engine.'

'Uh-huh. And the English translation of that is…?'

'It makes the car go vroooomm.'

'Ah.'

She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. 'Whew. It sure is hot out here.'

Chris snuck a glance at her and nodded in mental agreement. Hot as hell. And every time he looked at her, in her neon shorts and bright green top, it got a little hotter.

Her skin was the color of warm honey, and his fingers itched to sample its soft smoothness. Her reddish-brown hair was a riotous cap of untamed curls that begged to be touched. Her eyes reminded him of sweet, gooey, yummy chocolate, and her mouth… whoa! Her mouth made him think of carnal things that made sweat pool in his socks.

Her finger bounced back and forth and he answered all her questions, falling more and more in lust with each passing minute. His mind tried to convince his hormones that this was not the woman they were looking for-this woman was more than a one-nighter and represented a serious threat to his bachelor freedom-but his hormones were having none of it.

This is the one we want, his hormones said. This one right here, who doesn't know an oil filter from a brake pad. The one who smells like fresh-baked brownies and stares at you with those big chocolatey-brown eyes. Now do something about it before we get nasty.

She pointed to something else, asking what it was. When he turned his head to explain the intricacies of the wiper-fluid dispenser, they bumped noses. Chris froze and stared into her startled eyes.

She was so close-so heart-stoppingly close.

Before she could back away, and before he could change his mind, he did what he'd wanted to do since almost the first moment he saw her. He angled his head and brushed his mouth lightly over hers.

He should have expected the electric sizzle that crackled through him, but it was so strong, he nearly groaned. All thoughts of spark plugs, do-flickits, and thingamabobs drained from his head. He reached for her, pulling them both to their feet. Their heads smacked into the raised hood at the same time.

'Ouch!' Melanie yelped, rubbing the top of her head. 'Wow. I feel dizzy. I bet I have a concussion.'

Chris wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her close, and ran gentle fingers over the small lump forming on her head. 'Me, too.'

She gazed up at him. 'You think you have a concussion?'

'No. I feel dizzy. And it has nothing to do with hitting my head.'

'The heat getting to you?'

His gaze settled on her mouth. 'You could say that.'

Her eyes widened. 'Oh, my. You're going to kiss me again.'

'That okay?'

'I'm not sure. The first one almost knocked me unconscious.'

He took her face between his hands and lowered his head. 'Yeah,' he breathed against her mouth. 'I know exactly what you mean.'

* * *

Melanie decided that if their first kiss almost knocked her unconscious, their second kiss-which just sort of melted into their third, fourth, and fifth kisses-blew her socks right off the soles of her steaming feet.

He kissed her gently at first, almost an experimental tasting of lips. When he glided his mouth over hers more insistently, she wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight. Good thing, too, because a few seconds later he slid his tongue into her mouth and her knees fell off.

She groaned and leaned into him, opening her mouth, eager for the warm invasion of his silky tongue brushing against hers. She hadn't been kissed in so long. And never this well. Never by someone who made her want to crawl into the same clothes with him and never come out. His bare legs brushed against hers and all the blood drained from her head and settled in a hot, bubbling pool in her belly.

His lips trailed a path of heat down the side of her neck while his hands slid down to her butt and hauled her up tight against him. She plunged her fingers into his thick hair and pressed herself closer. Either he was in the habit of carrying a cucumber around in his pocket, or he was as shaken by their kiss as she was.

When they finally came up for air, they stared at each other. 'Holy smokes,' she said when she could find her voice. 'What was that?'

He looked as dazed as she felt. 'I think,' he said in a velvety rasp that brought to mind satin sheets and hot sex, 'that was spontaneous combustion.' He buried his face in her neck and breathed in. 'You smell incredible. Like fresh-baked brownies and Ivory soap.'

'Yup. That's one of my specialties. Ivory brownies. You eat and wash up at the same time. It's a real time- saver.'

He touched his tongue to the side of her neck. 'Sounds great.'

'Glad you think so,' she said, her voice a mere whisper. 'I baked them just for you.'

He lifted his head. 'Brownies? For me?'

'Well, for the cookout. You said chocolate, and you look like the brownie type.'

'What's the brownie type?'

The yummy, delicious, drool-inspiring, want-to-scarf-you-down in two bites and then go back for seconds type. 'You're a male. That makes you the brownie type.'

He leaned forward and gently bit the sensitive skin behind her ear. 'If they taste half as good as you do, I'll be in heaven.'

Melanie inhaled a deep breath and tried to calm her frazzled nerves, but it was hard to do with her hormones jumping up and down, giving each other high fives. 'My toes feel like they're being barbecued over a slow flame.'

He straightened, a sheepish, lopsided grin touching his lips. 'I don't even want to mention what part of my anatomy feels like it's roasting over a flame,' he said in that same velvety, goose-bump-inducing voice.

Melanie clearly read the desire and passion in his darkened eyes. 'I think I have a pretty good idea. It's kinda hard to miss, seeing how it's poking me in the belly and all.' She knew she should step back, away from him, away from his obvious arousal, but her feet refused to cooperate. Her feet were very happy right where they were. In fact, her whole body was perfectly content plastered smack up against his.

He cleared his throat and stepped back. 'I, ah, think I'm done with the car.'

'Oh?' What car? She managed to drag her gaze from his face and saw her Dodge. Memory returned. Ah. That car.