Kiss The Cook

* * *

When the doorbell rang at nine A.M. Saturday morning, Melanie inhaled a calming breath and forced herself to walk slowly down the stairs. She knew Chris stood on the other side of the door, and she didn't want to appear overly anxious.

Not that she was overly anxious to see him. Not a bit. After all, she'd just seen him five days ago. She huffed out a breath. Had it only been five days? It had felt like five years. Five long, dreary years in solitary confinement.

Get a grip, Melanie. Hadn't he called twice from Chicago? Yeah, but both calls had been brief, and they had left her aching for him. For his touch, his arms around her, his kiss-

Tossing in the towel, she ran down the last few steps and threw open the door.

Before she could even say hello, his arms were around her, his lips crushing hers, his tongue seeking entrance to her mouth. Every cell in her body melted and sighed, welcome home.

Nipping tiny kisses along her jaw, he said, 'Boy, I'm sure glad it wasn't Nana who opened the door.'

A breathless laugh escaped Melanie. 'A kiss like that and poor Nana would pass out. I'm feeling a bit faint myself.'

The sexy grin she loved eased over his face and her pulse jumped. 'Faint, huh?' He dropped a kiss onto her nose. 'That sounds very promising, but you'd better buck up 'cause we're playing tennis in forty-five minutes.'

'Forty-five minutes! I thought we had a breakfast date. I'm starving.' I want to stay here and kiss you. All day.

'Change of plans. We can grab a bagel and coffee on the way to the courts.' His gaze roamed over her cherry red shorts and matching tank top. 'You look great, but you might want to change into your tennis gear.' He glanced at his watch. 'Not to rush you, but you have about three minutes. We're playing another partner in my firm, Dave Webber, and his girlfriend-of-the-moment, whose name escapes me. Dave's beaten me the last three times we've played and he's pretty insufferable about it. I really want to wump him today.'

Disgruntled, Melanie led him into the house. He leaned against the door and she stomped up the stairs, muttering under her breath.

Darn man. Who did he think he was, kissing her like that then calmly announcing tennis plans as if he hadn't just rocked her world? And how the heck was she supposed to 'wump' anybody at tennis if she didn't eat breakfast first? Why should she-

'Melanie?'

She turned and gazed down at him, standing at the bottom of the stairs, his expression serious, looking more beautiful than any man had a right to. 'Yes?'

'I missed you.'

Her annoyance evaporated instantly. She'd missed him, too. Constantly. Of course, it wasn't necessary that he know that. Mimicking his earlier words, she said, 'That sounds promising, but I need to buck up. There's a tennis match to play, you know.'

* * *

It took Melanie all of two minutes to agree with Chris that Dave Webber was indeed insufferable about his previous victories on the tennis court. Dave's girlfriend, Jenni, sported an innocent smile and a killer forehand. Not good indications for a wumping.

The first set began with Dave, Melanie, then Jenni all holding serve. Chris's first serve landed in the net, as did his second one, resulting in a double fault. He switched court sides, and promptly double faulted away another point.

Melanie switched courts again and looked back at him from her position near the net. 'You okay?'

He frowned and nodded. And promptly double faulted again.

Melanie walked back to the baseline. 'What's wrong?' she asked in an undertone. 'Are you nervous? You served beautifully in the warm-up.'

'I'm not nervous,' he said in a distinctly annoyed voice.

She raised her brows at his tone. 'Then what's with you? You said you wanted to beat this guy, and I don't blame you. He's totally obnoxious. May I remind you that the idea is to hit the ball over the net? That expression 'nothing but net' is for basketball, not tennis.'

'I know that.'

'Could have fooled me. If you're not nervous, then what's wrong?'

'Your ass.'

She stared at him. 'Excuse me?'

'Your ass. That damn short tennis skirt. Those long legs staring me right in the face. You look incredible. I can't concentrate. Every time I try to serve, I see you up at the net, half bent over, and I lose it.'

'As much as I appreciate the compliment about my, er, ass, we have a whole match to play here. If you can pull yourself together, we can hand this guy the thrashing he deserves.'

'Okay.' He eyed her legs. 'Would you consider slipping on a pair of sweatpants?'

'Have you lost your mind? It's ninety degrees out here!'

'Are we playing tennis or chatting?' Dave called from the other side of the net.

Chris shot him a glare. 'We're strategizing. Give us a minute.' He turned back to Melanie. 'All right. No sweatpants. But I need some kind of incentive.'

Melanie narrowed her eyes. 'Like what?'

A wolfish grin curved his lips. 'What do I get if I win?'

'What do you want?'

'You. Just you.'

She tightened her grip on her tennis racket to keep it from slithering from her boneless fingers. Forcibly banishing all thoughts of that from her mind, she said, 'Based on your game so far, I don't have much to worry about. Okay, you're on.'

Walking back to her position at the net, Melanie prepared for Chris's next serve. Seconds later the ball zoomed by her ear with gale-force strength for an ace. He went on to serve another ace, then another, and then one more to even the score at deuce. She and Chris won the next two points to take the game.

Tossing her a wink, he said, 'See? I just needed a little incentive.'

They battled it out for another two hours, but finally Melanie and Chris won in three sets. The instant after everyone shook hands, Chris scooped up the tennis gear in one hand, grabbed Melanie's arm with the other, shouted good-bye, and literally dragged her off the courts.

'Whoa!' Melanie protested, jogging to keep up with him. 'Where's the fire?'

He stopped abruptly and kissed her with an intensity that blew the bottoms off her Nikes. With his body pressed hard against hers, he asked, 'Feel the fire?'

Oh, yeah. She felt it, all right. All the way down to her smoldering toes. Mutely, she nodded.

'Then let's go. 'Cause as much as I love you in that skimpy skirt, I can't wait to get you out of it.'

Again Melanie simply nodded. Who the heck was she to argue with logic like that?

* * *

The fifteen-minute ride to his condo was an exercise in agony for Chris. God, he couldn't wait to get his hands on her. Touch her soft skin, feel her pressed against him. He'd missed her so damn much, he'd wanted to fall on her the moment he'd seen her, but he knew he couldn't or they'd never make it to the tennis courts. Now the match was over, and she was all his. Thank God.

But for how long?

Glenn had told him that an eatery called Spaghetti Loco was indeed scheduled to open across the street from the Pampered Palate. That information had been included in the review, and Chris suspected it would sway the