All Fired Up (Kate Meader) (44 page)

She also knew she was lonely.

It sounded so ridiculous, this need to have a man’s arms to hold her. Hairy, tanned, muscle-corded arms…

She was ensorcelled by Tad’s forearms again. Her friend’s forearms.

Could she help it if they were the model for the forearms she imagined cradling her as she slept? That when she thought of a line of ropy muscle and brawny sinew banded beneath her breasts while she stood at the sink washing out Evan’s milk bottles, these were the ones that shot to the top of the list? Maybe it wasn’t the sexiest fantasy—a man taking you while you tried to scrub that tough stain off the pot—but boy, a nice set of forearms can spice up the dreariest of tasks.

But did it have to be her friend’s arms? So her circle in Chicago was small, and smaller still since she had Evan. Her family had no problem jumping in to babysit when she headed to the gym (for a smoothie) or picked up pin money while catering for one of Cara and Shane’s special events, but meeting people—meeting men—was nowhere near as easy as it had been in London. Back then, she had been single, child-free, and up for most anything after a couple vodka tonics. She didn’t miss those days, but she did long for the chance to feel sexy, desired, wanted. Frankly, she didn’t know a lot of unattached, eligible men, except for Tad.

Unattached, perhaps. Eligible, not on your life.

Tad made a living out of blowing through women like he was in a race. Some of the stories he told her made her hair stand on end. Other body parts, too. She encouraged his sexy confidences—partly because it turned her on, and partly because Tad fascinated her. He was the kindest, funniest guy she knew, but he treated women like conveniences until they became inconveniences. He was bad news in a hot package, and just the sight of him made her soft parts quiver.

His attractions were myriad and obvious. The hot bod, the piercing blue eyes, the dark, wavy hair that framed his face like a wimple of sin. In his banged-up jeans and motorcycle leathers, he was sex-on-Italian-legs.

In the kitchen, they had joked around and it was good to be back to the easy vibe between them. Their friendship was precious, and that she felt comfortable teasing him about his vigorous love life again was a good sign. They were firmly ensconced in the F-zone—the friend zone—once more, and all was right with the world. And the occasional hormonal brain fart, where she started fantasizing about his forearms of all things, was just that. Occasional and hormonal.

He crinkled his eyes in a
You okay?
kind of way, and she battled to lose whatever frowny/befuddled/horny look she wore. Really, she needed to get a shot of Botox so her expressions around Tad could become unreadable.

Coming back to earth, she plastered on a smile for her family. As always, Jack and Shane were ribbing each other about who had the better palate.

“Your taste buds are ruined from all that sugar,” Jack said. “You probably can’t even detect salt anymore.”

“You know taste buds deteriorate with age,” Shane shot back, instantly defensive of his pastry chef credentials. Jack was nine years older than Shane and they had only recently connected, but the bond between them had been instantaneous. It was as though they understood the meaning of family on some cellular level.

“Now, now, ladies, you’re both pretty,” Lili said, catching Jules eye with a
men
headshake.

“So, we have some good news,” Cara said, all efficiency. She wasn’t one for lazy afternoons of shooting the shit with the clan, preferring to keep everyone on task. “Shane and I got the Daniels wedding in May next year.”

Everyone made noises of congratulations and raised their glasses. DeLuca Doyle Special Events had become the hottest party planning company in Chicago since its inception just over eight months ago. Getting the wedding of the mayor’s son was huge, but then Cara never did anything by half.

“By that time, the babies should be a few months old,” Jules said, unable to keep the awe out of her voice at the idea of Cara as Supermom. She’d always had a bit of a girl crush on the slender blonde who exuded sophistication and frightening competence. “How are you going to manage?”

Cara gave one of her knowing smiles. “This event will be big enough that we won’t need to take on as many clients for the next year, but we’ll probably hire someone to help with the business.”

“Yeah, we will.” Shane’s expression was filled with loving concern. Cara was a whirling dervish when it came to work, and pregnancy hadn’t slowed her down, much to Shane’s chagrin.

“Well, we have some good news, too,” Jack said, his hand moving naturally to Lili’s hair. He was rather obsessed with it. “My beautiful wife’s work will be included in the New Artists Exhibit at the Museum of Contemporary Art in September.”

“Amazing, cuz,” Tad said, leaning over to kiss her on the forehead.

“Yeah, I’m excited. And nervous.” Lili was a bit shy where her photography was concerned but she was super talented. “And my hot chef husband just sold the rights on his latest cookbook to Japan, which makes it what now?”

“Twenty-four countries,” Jack answered with a proud smirk.

“Have you checked the
World Almanac
lately?” Shane asked. “There are a hundred and ninety-six countries. That’s a pretty low percentage when it comes to world domination.”

“You haven’t made it until it’s translated into Farsi,” Tad said.

“Or Yoruba,” Shane added to Jack’s eye roll and a chorus of laughter from everyone else.

Jules checked her sigh. They were all such a talented lot of buggers that it was mighty difficult not to feel like a complete and utter loser around them. Not once had she regretted Evan, who gave her direction and balance, but there were occasions she wished she knew what she wanted to do when she grew up. Being surrounded by rock stars sharpened her feelings of inadequacy to barbed points.

There had been a moment back in the kitchen as Tad recounted Long Face’s departure story when she thought:
I can do that!

Common sense had punched it back down where it belonged. She was an amateur among gilded professionals. Her small-time efforts making pizzas, preserving lemons, and futzing about in her organic vegetable garden were hardly the stellar credits needed to work in a real restaurant kitchen. Shane and Jack had been cooking since before they could walk. They had years of training under their belts. With her dyslexia, she could barely read the recipes, never mind the hassle of finding child care for Evan.

No, she was lucky. Filled with needs and desires, but incredibly lucky.

While she figured it out, she knew she wanted one thing. Moving into her own place was step one, and she had taken care of that a month ago. The thought of what she needed to do next terrified and thrilled her equally, but she had to step up. It was time.

And she was going to need the support of her friends and family.

“Um, I have an announcement of my own,” she said as the good-natured poking ebbed and flowed around her.

All eyes fell on her, probably the first time that had happened since the day she crashed a taping of Jack’s old cooking show at DeLuca’s Ristorante and dropped the pregnancy bomb on her brother and a passel of strangers who were now her family and friends.

The silence stretched. She hadn’t meant to pause for effect—that wasn’t her style at all—but now her next words took on an unwanted significance. Note to self: don’t yell “stop the presses” when you want to slip something by the posse.

“Everything okay, Jules?” Jack asked, that familiar worry crinkle bisecting his brow.

She sucked in a bolstering breath and pushed it out quickly.

“I’m going to start dating.”

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Also by Kate Meader

Feel the Heat

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Contents

  Title Page

Welcome

Dedication

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

About the Author

A Preview of
Feel the Heat

A Preview of
Hot and Bothered

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Also by Kate Meader

Newsletters

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by Linda O’Dwyer
Excerpt from
Feel the Heat
copyright © 2013 by Linda O’Dwyer
Excerpt from
Hot and Bothered
copyright © 2013 by Linda O’Dwyer
Cover design by Diane Luger
Cover photo © kostudio/Shutterstock
Cover copyright © 2013 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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First ebook edition: November 2013

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ISBN 978-1-4555-9962-2

Table of Contents