Patrick’s was busy, too, with a very different crowd than the morning one. This crowd was tougher, younger, and looked far more apt to cause trouble. As they sipped their beers, Em noted that the trouble always seemed to be started by Maddie’s two sons, who were bartending, when they weren’t brawling.
After a lull in the noisy wildness, Jacob surprised Em by asking about the auditions.
“They went well,” she said.
“Is that the line you gave your boss, or the truth?”
“The line I gave my boss.” She sighed. “I’m hoping to get luckier tomorrow.”
“And if you don’t?”
“Maybe you’ll change your mind.”
“Em-”
“Just kidding.” She shot him a half smile. “Sort of. Listen, what’s so bad about being a TV chef anyway?”
“Other than the fact it’s all a sham?”
“A sham?”
“Sure. The TV chef easily whips up some tasty-looking dish, impressing the viewers. He should, he’s a trained pro. But you and I both know, due to time constraints and the boring factor, he’ll skip all sorts of basic steps that the viewer has no idea how to perform, then tries it at home and experiences complete disaster trying to replicate it. I don’t want to do that to people.”
He’d really thought about this. “You wouldn’t have to-”
“It’s the advertising dollars that’ll matter, or product placement, or something. Not the art of cooking.”
She opened her mouth again, then slowly shut it in silent admission that it could be true.
“I’m just not interested,” he said more gently. “At all. I’ve been there, done that, as far as cooking for performance, and I don’t want to go back.”
She nodded, remembering the juggling act he’d demonstrated. She knew how he’d grown up now and completely understood. And because she did, she would never want him to do this, either.
“So what are you going to do?”
She lifted her head with determination. “Hold auditions in Los Angeles. It’ll give us more of a pool to choose from.”
“Listen, I’m sor-”
Reaching out, she put a finger to his lips. “It’s okay, I get it.” And that was the thing, she really did. She knew Nathan wouldn’t, but she did. “I’ll make this work another way. I’m determined.”
“You know,” he said, watching her, “I believe you will.”
“You do?”
“Oh, yeah.” He stroked a finger over her jaw. “You’ve got something I recognize and know well.”
Her breath caught at the touch. “What’s that?”
“Determination. Passion. Hunger to succeed.”
She understood him, and loved the feeling. But he understood her, too. Was there anything more sexy than that, a man who really knew her? She found herself fighting a broad, stupid smile. “You, Jacob Hill, are a very kind man.”
He stared at her, then let loose with a laugh. “First you think I’m sweet, and now kind. Who are you looking at?”
“You.”
“I’m not either of those things,” he said with a slow shake of his head. “In fact, ask around.” He shifted his weight on his bar stool, and suddenly his legs, long and hard were entangled, with hers.
Leaning in, he insinuated a muscled thigh between hers. His lips brushed against her ear as he spoke. “In fact, I’m probably the furthest thing from kind-or sweet-you’ll ever meet.”
His low, husky voice brought a set of shivers to her spine. But she couldn’t think past the feel of his thigh between hers, or the hand he’d set against the bar at her back, ostensibly to hold his balance, but in reality trapping her within the confines of his body.
His gaze dropped to her mouth as he slowly pressed his thigh higher between hers. A rush of arousal surged through her. They were in public, anyone could see, and yet this excited her. She had no idea what that said about her, but she wanted more.
He moved again, just a slight shift that put him in direct contact with the V between her legs, shooting bolts of sexual yearning to every erogenous zone in her body. And apparently there were more than she’d known about.
No one around them paid any attention. And anyway, if anyone had happened to glance over, all they’d see was a couple who appeared to be in deep conversation, with his head bent attentively to hers, his arm at her back.
Then he rocked his knee again and she actually had to close her eyes, clutching the bar stool at either of her sides, seeking balance as everything within her clutched, as well. “I can’t think when you do that,” she whispered, and yet she didn’t try to push his leg away.
“Do what?”
Her eyes flew open and she stared at him, prepared to tell him to stop teasing her, but he wasn’t teasing at all. His eyes were dark, so very dark, and filled with honest curiosity.
He wanted to hear her say the words, that she couldn’t think when he touched her, that she couldn’t think with his thigh between hers, and that when he moved that thigh against her, she saw stars. Forget the vibrator, she wasn’t going to need it.
“Em?”
Right. The words. Only she’d never been good at them. It was why she worked behind the camera and not in front of it, but she’d especially never been good with
But suddenly she didn’t want Jacob guessing. She didn’t want to be coy. She wanted to be honest, and see where it got her. “I can’t think when you touch me. When your leg is between mine, pressing against me.”
Naturally he did it again, and her eyes drifted shut again. “Well, maybe I can think,” she admitted softly. “But it’s not the kind of thoughts made for mixed company.”
“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” he murmured in her ear. “Those thoughts spinning through your head
She opened her eyes at that. “Which is what, exactly?”
“Make each other feel good.”
Yes. Yes, she knew that, but she’d thought…for a minute she’d let herself think…hope…“Is there more than that?”
His gaze met hers. Again, openly honest. Brutally honest. “More than that isn’t something I do.”
“I know.”
He looked at her for a long beat, then pulled back a little, and sipped at his beer, continuing to watch her thoughtfully. “How about you?”
“What?”
“You get involved with every guy you sleep with?”
“I’m afraid so, yes.”
He nodded, and sipped some more, and by the way he’d backed off physically she got the message that he didn’t intend to take it any further. Which in a strange way was a compliment.
He didn’t want to hurt her.
But damn, she wished she’d let him take it a little further before they’d had that conversation, maybe even as far as his bed.
As if he could hear her thoughts, he smiled a little, and touched her hair, but he didn’t try for more than that, and eventually they began the walk back to Hush. The streets were dark, quiet. There was no moon and a low fog lent an odd intimacy to the night around them.
The brown bag in her hands crinkled, reminding her of what she held.
And what she could do with it. “I can’t believe I let you buy this for me.”
The man beside her smiled but didn’t speak. He never seemed to feel the need to fill an easy silence, and she’d
