Scrumptious (9 page)

Marlene walked over to the pizza box on the bookshelf and grabbed a leftover slice. She hadn’t been willing to sacrifice any gourmet pizza when it had arrived earlier, but now she was. Now, she was definitely willing to sacrifice just about anything if it would get her vibrator out of the middle of her living room.

She approached the dog and waved the pizza. As the scent hit his sensitive hound nose, Samson stopped. She held the pizza high as she slowly, carefully placed her hand on the business end of the vibrator.

Sam loosened his jaws. She made the swap, then stood, casually checking for damage. There was none. She held the vibe in a loose fist at her side and gave Joe an apologetic smile. “Man’s best friend is dog, but woman’s best friend is vibrator. You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t ask you to stay.”

Joe moved toward her. He took the vibrator out of her hand and sent it sailing into the bedroom where it landed on the bed with a solid thump. She was mesmerized by the heat in his eyes.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Joe said.

He placed his hand on the small of her back and urged her toward the couch.

Joe was tired of saying no.

All the way over here, he’d been telling himself that he was coming to give her hell about the crème brûlées, but when she answered the door, looking pissed as hell and about as fuckable as any woman he’d ever seen, he had instantly recognized his ulterior motives. He’d come here because he couldn’t stay away from her. Now he was in over his head. He could barely resist the temptress witch who threw her body at him followed by rapid insults, but he had no defense against the girl in sweatpants who shared pizza with a dog. The fact that she had been home alone on a Saturday night taking matters into her own hands made him crazy.

He didn’t believe Marlene was responsible for any trouble at Chameleon. As she’d pointed out, she’d lived through two years of Keith’s cooking without killing him. That girl had self-control and stamina. She was a natural-born chef, and she clearly loved Chameleon or she would have jetted years ago. In fact, he was still curious about why she hadn’t.

Joe grabbed the remote control from the couch. “How about a slumber party?” he teased. “Olivia’s house is as silent as a tomb, and I’m not ready to go to bed yet. You got any more pizza in that box? A glass of wine would be nice too. Is that TV real?”

“Blu-ray, high-def, forty-inch screen,” Marlene said. She was looking at him like he had lost his mind. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Kidding?” Joe asked, keeping up his innocent act.

Marlene stood in front of him. Her hips were at eye level. Panties? He looked for lines. Hard to tell.

She crossed her arms. “A slumber party would be really nice, Joe, but I’ve already had pizza and wine and about as much TV as I can stand. I want to get laid, buddy. For your own safety, you should get out of here.”

“You can do better than a vibrator shaped like an alien rabbit on steroids,” he said.

“Don’t knock the rabbit,” she replied. “It can do things most men can’t even imagine.”

Joe raised an eyebrow.

“If you’re angling for a demonstration, forget it. You haven’t earned the privilege,” she said.

“I’m angling for more than that.”

She didn’t resist when he pulled her onto his lap, but she didn’t reach for him either. Now that Marlene was so close, Joe could smell her. Hot vanilla and arousal. He stroked the soft skin of her legs where her strong thighs framed his own. She scowled down at him and grabbed his shoulders, squeezing hard.

“Joe, I’m not kidding. It’s one thing to play around at work, but I’ve had enough. I can’t take anymore. Get naked, or get the hell out of here.”

She was strung so tightly, Joe was sure that when her self-control broke, she was going to shatter into a million pieces. He was going to pluck her strings and see what happened.

“The bunny can rest. I’ve got what you need, sugar,” he promised. He settled her on top of his erection.

Marlene gave a closed-mouth groan and pressed into his lap.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked.

Joe watched her eyelids dip as she swayed above him. Watching her grind was like watching her eat. She wasn’t self-conscious about going after her pleasure. She knew what she wanted, and she took it, riding him, even though they were both fully clothed. He couldn’t wait to do this naked, buried to the hilt inside her body.

He throbbed against her, making her gasp. Her eyes flew open, hot, hazy, and disoriented. Joe gave her a knowing smile. “Not quite enough to get you there, huh, sweetheart?”

Her shorts were loose, and he worked his hand into the leg hole and slipped his thumb under the crotch of her panties. Her folds were swollen and full. She felt like honey under his thumb.

“Don’t stop,” Marlene begged.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I just need a little more room to work.” He rolled to the left and tossed her onto the couch next to him. Impatient with the barrier between them, he pulled her shorts down to her ankles, deeply appreciating her cooperation. She didn’t play coy like a lot of women would. She just lifted her ass, opened her knees, and wordlessly begged him to dive in. Which he did.

Joe dragged his tongue straight up the middle to get the lay of the land, groaning as her clean, sweet-salty taste and smell went straight to his head. He found her stiff bud and latched on, guessing she wouldn’t want the gentle stuff right now. She was too close. He worked one finger into her, moving it in and out slowly to loosen her up for the next finger. And the next. She gasped. He had her now. Any minute.

Marlene screamed when her orgasm hit. Her voice rose in an intense, wordless wail of relief. He worked his fingers in and out of her body in time with the spasms that squeezed his fingers. Some women were done after one orgasm, but Joe had a feeling she wasn’t that kind of girl. He hoped she wasn’t that kind of girl.

He looked up at her face, blissed out, and gave her ten seconds to recover before he rotated his palm and crooked his fingers in a “come here” gesture inside of her.

Her body came to life under his hands. She swelled, quickened, and broke swiftly, drenching his palm. He bent his head to her again, enjoying her scent, her taste, and the sounds of pleasure she made as he moved against her. When Marlene was silent and still, well nearly so, he crooked his fingers again, harder. She groaned and offered her hips.

He laughed softly and slid his fingers out of her. “My turn, I’m about to bust a seam, here.” Joe stood. He pulled Marlene’s sweatshirt over her head. Her bra was black lace and barely substantial enough to contain her.

Marlene barely opened her eyes. “If I could move, I’d be happy to return the favor, but my legs are numb.”

“Oh, I think it’s way more fun if we come together next time.” Joe pulled his T-shirt over his head. He kicked off his shoes and socks. In one motion, he thrust his pants and underwear over his hips, stepped out of them, and stood before her, naked.

“Thank God,” she breathed.

Joe heaved her to her feet. The feel of her soft skin against his hard flesh made him groan. “I can’t wait another minute,” he said, picking her up.

He carried her into the bedroom and dropped her on the bed.

“Watch out for the bunny,” she said.

“By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember you have a bunny.”

“I’d better remember. I’ll need it when you’re gone.”

Joe hit his knees on the bed, and Marlene said, “Wait!”

“Can’t,” he groaned.

“Condom. Top drawer.” Marlene pointed.

“Right. Sorry.” He rolled the latex down his length and kissed her.

***

Marlene leaned up to meet Joe’s lips. This was even better than what she had imagined. The tip of his tongue flirted with hers in a way that was tender and hot at the same time. It took her breath away. Oh God, that man could say a million different things with his mouth. His lips made her feel safe, and that word wasn’t even in her relationship vocabulary. A rush of pleasure hit her as that bizarre thought and Joe entered her at the same time, rocking her body and her mind with a little mini-mental orgasm. She convulsed around him again.

“God, you’re amazing,” he said. He began a slow, sweet, gliding thrust, and she opened to him, giving him everything he was asking for and more. She rotated her hips against him on the down stroke, rubbing herself against the base of his shaft. Joe was watching intently, a little too intently, she thought, but then he changed the angle of his hips in a subtle, indescribable way. Marlene felt her eyes go wide. He smiled. “Gotcha,” he said and began to thrust in earnest.

Marlene gave up trying to match his tempo and just held for dear life. She took him deep, and each time brought her closer to something, but she wasn’t sure what it was. It was a watery, waving sort of pleasure. It flowed through her limbs making her feel heavy and buoyed up at the same time.

He was watching her again, and this time, instead of making her feel uncomfortable, it took her closer to wherever she was going with him. Joe bent and caught her nipple between his lips and tugged. Oh, yes, that was it. His insistent stroking inside of her and the warm tug of his tongue on her breast brought her to the top of the wave, and Marlene began to fall.

“Oh, I’m coming,” she whispered into his hair.

“Yes.” His voice was a low growl, violent. It put a sharp edge on Marlene’s pleasure.

Their eyes locked as orgasm raced through them. It was unlike anything Marlene had ever experienced. She came harder and longer than the other times, his intent regard pushing her to the top of another wave of pleasure, his merciless hips pressing her forward.

“Enough,” she panted. “Stop.”

“Soon.”

Joe slipped out of her, but he didn’t roll away. Instead, he slipped one hand between them to caress her ultra-sensitive flesh. His fingers slipped into her, played through her moist petals, and then settled on her clit.

Marlene jumped and nearly howled at the brilliant, blinding shock that lit her fingertips and toes.

“You’re not done yet, sugar. One more time. You can do it.”

“I can’t,” she begged.

His finger barely moved at all, yet tiny pulses of electric heat shot through her entire body. Tiny, inexorable, irresistible pulses. She was going to explode. She opened her mouth to tell him, but his mouth silenced her lips and then his fingers did something quick, hard, and damn near impossible. Instead of speaking, she screamed and then shattered beneath his hands.

Marlene woke up the next morning with a small, warm, furry body in front of her and a large, warm, hard body behind her. At some point during the night, Samson must have decided it was safe to jump on the bed with them. Joe had never left.

His arm was wrapped around her waist, and she was mildly surprised to realize that his fingers were inside of her. Her body was poised on the brink of another orgasm. He wiggled his fingers.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she croaked.

“Nope.” Joe sounded more cheerful than any man had a right to be at this hour of the morning.

She groaned. “What time is it?”

“It’s seven-thirty. Can’t you hear the eggs calling us?”

Brunch.

She’d forgotten about brunch. “Oh God. Yes.”

“Yes, eggs? Or yes, this?” he asked. His fingers were doing things that only a man very familiar with the female body would even think of doing.

“Yes, both.” She opened her thighs and hooked one foot behind Joe’s knees. “Latex?”

“Not in my eggs. Otherwise, all set.”

“Egg-cellent.” Marlene guided him in. A quickie, and then someone had better get her some coffee.

***

It was quick, compared to last night, but they were still late. Fortunately, most of the brunch prep had been done yesterday, by her, but there was still waffle batter to make and hollandaise to whip together and then hold in a water bath. She had to decide what the specials would be, do about four hundred other tasks, and get at least three cups of coffee into her body before ten. She just made it.

Joe had been busy as well. When the doors opened, his station was set. His egg-poaching liquid was at a bare shiver, and he had the flat top full of extra crunchy hash browns.

“Want some?” he asked.

“Not now.” The first ticket was all her, and Joe was lounging against his station watching her fly between the waffle iron and the grill. He had a plate full of hash browns, sausage, and at least four poached eggs.

“Gotta keep my strength up,” he said.

Marlene closed her eyes until her knees felt solid again. Every so often, a memory from last night would blindside her, and she would go liquid, instantly aroused. There didn’t seem to be any way to stop it. It wasn’t unpleasant, but Marlene was afraid she was beginning to scare Anthony.

The poor kid was high-strung to begin with, and he looked exhausted today. After closing with Joe last night, Anthony was back this morning to open the pantry. Restaurant work was hard labor if you weren’t used to it, and Anthony was just a kid. So far he was working out fine though. He’d even brought his cousin Mario in to do the dishes until they found a replacement for Kevin.

Marlene resettled her baseball cap on her head and flipped a waffle onto a plate.

“May I speak with the chef, please?” She ducked to catch a glimpse of the face attached to the reedy, unfamiliar voice coming from the dish room.

The middle-aged man standing in the doorway had a pinched expression of concentration that may have had something to do with the fact that his glasses were too small for his face. He was holding a clipboard, pen poised, and his eyes were darting around the kitchen. He made a mark. Marlene’s heart skipped a beat.

Chameleon had never had a visit from the health inspector on a Sunday before. And never during service. They weren’t even due for inspection until August.
All
the
better
to
catch
a
violation, my dearie
. Mario wouldn’t have known to stall the inspector at the back door until someone could sweep through the kitchen and sound the alarm.

Marlene stepped forward, but Joe was already in front of her, holding out his hand to the little man.

“I’ve got this, sugar. Keep cooking.”

The health inspector hesitated before shaking Joe’s hand, as if he didn’t want to get anything on him, but he took it. Joe’s friendly manner seemed to thaw him a bit. He didn’t look like the kind of guy who expected to be met with a smile, and Joe’s man-to-man grin was hard to resist.

Automatically, Marlene ran through a mental catalog of everyday health code violations. For once, everyone in the kitchen was wearing a hat, thank God. At warp speed, she gathered their mostly empty coffee cups and dumped them in the bus tub to get rid of open containers.

Joe and the inspector headed toward the bakeshop. As they left, Marlene dropped the lids on the workstations to lower the temperatures before inspector man could return with his little thermometer.

Thank goodness Joe worked clean. Marlene had never seen him prop a sheet pan on the garbage can and use it as an impromptu table when he ran out of workspace, like Keith used to do. Of course, Joe cleaned up his mess as he went along, so he never ran out of room. He even had a bleach bucket under his station, and Marlene would bet he had measured it out to the right concentration too. She dumped half of it into another bucket, labeled it and set it under Anthony’s station.

Marlene sent up a quick prayer that her ingredient bins were also labeled and tightly shut and that she hadn’t left the scoop in the flour again. Was everything in her reach-in labeled and covered?

She grabbed Anthony’s Caesar salad bowls and jammed them into the refrigerated bottom of his reach-in. Then she tossed him a pair of disposable gloves. “Put these on,” Marlene said.

“But I’m not doing anything,” he protested.

“I don’t give a shit. Put ’em on anyway. You’re on waffles now too.”

Marlene checked the tickets, the ovens, the stove, and the grill. She called for two waffles, dropped an egg into the poacher, cracked two on the flat top for over easy, and laid four pans on the fire for frittatas. Joe had better schmooze the health inspector fast and get his ass back up here.

Anthony went up on his Caesar salads, and Marlene pulled a pair of tongs off the oven door handle. Another violation. They were so screwed. She tossed Anthony the tongs. “Shrimp them.” He crisscrossed two skewers of shrimp on each salad.

“It’s you and me, kid. Do exactly what I say, and we might make it out of here alive.” She took the tongs out of his limp hand and replaced them with a wide offset spatula. “Hash browns on three hot plates. Keep them neat. Then I want those waffles. Keep your gloves on. Keep your hat on. Don’t touch your face. Got it?”

Anthony nodded, jumping to pull plates down for her.

They kept cooking.

***

By the time Joe and the health inspector made it back to the line, Marlene and Anthony had cleared the board once and had a whole new line of tickets hanging. Marlene was swearing, quietly, fluently, and in two languages. Anthony looked terrified, even though the brunt of the orders had fallen on her.

Joe gave the inspector another man-to-man look. “If I were you, Bill, I’d get in Marly’s way as little as possible. She’s never burned me on purpose, but I always get the feeling that she wants to.”

The health inspector nodded solemnly. He zipped behind Marlene once, then twice, to take temperatures in her station, taking his time over the deep, iced six-pan of raw eggs. Marlene knew damn well it was below forty degrees, so she didn’t even look. She just kept cooking.

They went up on three tables, and Marlene added a third language to her quiet invective. The inspector cleared the line. Joe escorted him through the dish room and out the back door, handing him a cup of coffee for the road.

She wished Joe would hurry the hell up. The tickets were piling up and she was running out of eggs. She couldn’t make a run to the walk-in when she was working this many tables, and Anthony had his own problems.

It was another ten minutes before Joe returned, frowning at the white copy of the health inspection form. “After all that, we still got three violations. I guess he had to find something,” he said with disgust. “He did say it’s the cleanest kitchen he’s ever seen.”

“How is that possible?” she asked.

“Anthony and I got bored last night and cleaned house.”

“Nice timing,” she said.

“Thank you very much.” Joe moved to take over the sauté station.

“No way, you big suck-up.” Marlene pointed to the walk-in. “I need eggs. Then you can play monkey in the middle for a while. I’ve got five tables fired, and I’m not in the mood to explain the tickets to you.”

Joe leaned to whisper in her ear. “You gonna call me ‘cheffie boy’ again? It gives me a hard-on.”

“Get your ass in gear.”

“Yes, chef,” he said with a mocking grin.

It was hot, and they were busy. Marlene and Joe worked the board together like they’d been doing it forever, and she discovered that he could take orders as well as he could give them. Every so often, they’d reach to pull down the same plate, at the same time. Their hands would touch, and the kitchen would heat up another couple of degrees.

When the tickets slowed down to a trickle, she finally asked, “Did you ask the health inspector why he was working on a Sunday?”

“Yeah, somebody called in a violation.” Joe said.

“What?”

“Yup. He didn’t say what it was, but it was serious enough to bring him in here on a Sunday. He searched the walk-in like he was looking for a dead body.”

“Did he find anything?” Marlene asked.

Joe shook his head. “I cleared out Keith’s petri dishes two days ago.”

“Any violations in the bakeshop?”

“Not even one,” he assured her.

“Well, that’s something.” She fired the last ticket and began to stack sauté pans in the hot window.

“You still think I’m paranoid?”

“I’m too tired to think. Somebody kept me up too late last night.” Marlene leaned against her cutting board. “And I still have to hit the farmers’ market before I can go home and collapse.”

“It’s already three o’clock, sugar. There isn’t going to be anything left at the farmers’ market by the time you get there.”

“Wanna bet?” Marlene said.

***

Marly shut down the line in record time, unplugged everything flammable, and double-checked all the plugs on the coolers. Since they couldn’t leave a rookie dishwasher in charge of closing down the back, Joe offered Anthony ten bucks to mop the line while they put away all the leftover brunch prep. In twenty minutes flat, the four of them shot out the back door into the late afternoon sunshine.

The Norton City Market was twenty minutes from town and the oldest farmers’ market in Western New York. Local vendors had been gathering at the corner of Robins and Paine to sell their wares for a hundred years now. She looked forward to going every week to load up on fresh basil, locally made cheeses, seasonal vegetables, and flowers for the hostess stand. Today, her first purchase was two flats of gorgeous Fourth of July tomatoes.

Since she came every week, she didn’t have to arrive early to get the good stuff either. The farmers saved it for her. No one else was leaving with the first crop of haricots verts. The tiny slips of green, delicate and crunchy, along with those early tomatoes, would be perfect for a tuna Niçoise appetizer. “Now remember, Chuck, when the heirloom varieties are ripe, I want them. Got anything new this year?”

“Black Pearls,” he said. “They’re gonna look like cherry tomatoes, but darker, and sweet as candy. The Red Lightnings are gonna be pretty too.”

She handed him a business card. “Call Chameleon and ask for me. I’ll drive out to pick them up.”

“Sure thing, Marly.”

Marlene put an extra sway in her step as she walked away from the young farmer. She wasn’t above trading on sex appeal if it would keep them in good tomatoes all summer. Green zebras, yellow pear, brandywine, rainbow
—
nothing was better than a ripe, homegrown tomato. “I’m feeling an heirloom tomato salad with ginger soy vinaigrette and a chiffonade of fresh basil coming on,” she said.

Joe leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Say that again, but talk real slow.”

It was convenient to have him along to make trips back to the car with her purchases
—
three flats of strawberries, great sheaves of basil, adorable baby carrots with their tops still on, ten pounds of late rhubarb, and three kinds of mint.

“What are you going to do with all that mint?” Joe asked.

“Covet it.” Pineapple mint, chocolate mint, lime mint, they all appealed to her sense of whimsy. True, it usually came right back to the kitchen parked on the side of the dessert plate, the very definition of a non-functional garnish, but mint was cheap. She didn’t care if anyone nibbled it or even sniffed it. The customers could tuck it behind their ears and do the cha-cha for all she cared. She had to have it.

“And the basil?” Joe queried.

“Pesto. We make it all summer and freeze it. Pesto sells out the house in January.”

Marlene paused to smile at Ben, her favorite squash guy, a rawboned and rangy strawberry blond whose face and forearms challenged the sun to find another spot to place a freckle. “How’re the pumpkins coming along?”

“I’ve got three the size of my head. We’ll have to see which one takes off, hard to say who’s got the best position,” he told her, brushing dirt off his orange Carhart overalls.

“Ben had a six-hundred–pound pumpkin last year,” she told Joe.

“Gonna break my record this year,” the farmer said, glowing. “You should stop by and check out the vine.” He handed her a small box of baby zucchini. “On the house. Should have some patty pans by next week.”

“Thanks, Ben. I can’t wait.”

She sneaked a glance at Joe as they walked down the aisle. His shoulders were shaking.

“I bet big pumpkins get all the babes. It’s hard to resist a man with a really big
—
”

“Enough.” She shoved the box at him and surveyed the market. “We’re almost done.”

“Let’s take a break.” He pulled her over to a grassy spot in the commons and pulled her to the ground. He sprawled out beside her and gave her a very lazy, very inviting grin. Marlene rested on one elbow and gazed down at him.

His hair was sticking up, not swept neatly off his forehead, like usual. She fought the urge to smooth it out of his eyes. His T-shirt was so ancient and thin it barely qualified as clothing, and he wasn’t wearing the traditional checks today either. Instead, his jeans rode low on his hips.