Spice (9 page)

“It does,” she answered with a nod. “We open at seven. I'm usually downstairs by four to start the breakfast pastries that I prep the afternoon before. I have an assistant who comes in about an hour after I do. After the breakfast goods we bake our designer cupcakes and pastries and whatever breads Siobhan needs for her lunch menu. Since we're in the business district, our business dies off at two, and we close by three. We do a limited menu on Saturdays with breakfast items from nine to eleven and lunch from eleven to one. Sunday is my sleep late day since we're closed, though for me that's usually somewhere around seven, and I'm usually doing planning and prep work for the start of the week.”

He filed away the information. “What made you decide on a bakery and café instead of a restaurant?”

“Restaurants have a higher fail rate than cafés, which aren't much better. Besides, Siobhan and I know our limitations. The last thing either one of us needed was the stress and long hours of trying to get a restaurant up and running. The café lets us indulge our love of cooking and baking and trying out new recipes, and not having to handle a dinner crowd means we don't have to overextend ourselves and we can still have lives. Mostly.”

“Can I ask why you didn't try for another cooking show or writing cookbooks after you got out of rehab? For some of those Hollywood types, being in rehab is almost a fashion accessory.”

A shadow crossed her expressive features as she slid off the barstool. “For some it is. Rehab might even boost their careers, giving them a weird sort of street cred. But for some of us it's impossible to recover from and the only option is to burn the bridges and leave town.”

He remained silent as he watched her pull a bottle of red out of her wine fridge, then uncork it to breathe. “You think you wouldn't have recovered your career.”

She placed a set of wineglasses on the counter, her moments measured. “Honestly?”

“Always.”

“I didn't try. I saw the writing on the wall. Even if I hadn't, I didn't think I'd be able to hack it. It was a grueling life and I got caught up in it and lost myself in the process. I didn't want to face that sort of stress or temptation again.”

He gave her a considering look as he tested the doneness of the fish. Nadia was a survivor. He knew that by the matter-of-fact way that she admitted her shortcomings and took responsibility for her actions. Beneath her passion was a core of steel. Once she learned from a mistake, he doubted she'd let herself get trapped again.

“You didn't think you could handle Hollywood, so you decided to become a small business owner instead. Sounds like you can handle more than you give yourself credit for.”

The smile she gave him lit the room. “Thank you for that. But it helps to have a solid network of support. I doubt Siobhan and I could have been as successful as we are if it weren't for our friends and chosen family.”

“So no expansion plans outside of the business district?” he asked as he plated their food.

“God, no,” she replied with a laugh, taking their wine, glasses, and silverware over to the dining table. “We like our little place, like being part of the community and knowing our regulars. If we do any expansion, it'll be to open for a longer stint on Saturdays, but that's about it. We're making a decent enough amount of money to support the café and ourselves, and we're happy with the way it is. I've had enough of letting ambition drive my life and make my decisions. Now the decisions are based on what's right for me and Siobhan, what can we handle. It's worked pretty darn well for us for the last handful of years.”

“Sounds like it.” He shut off the grill then followed her with their plates. “If you hate it, you won't hurt my feelings. Much.”

Nadia snorted. “Somehow I doubt your ego is that fragile, Professor Sullivan.”

“You're right,” he said as they settled at the table. “It comes from being confident in knowing what I'm capable of.”

“What are you capable of?”

He gave her a long look. “Whatever I put my mind to.”

She saluted him with the wine bottle and a lopsided grin before pouring. “Here's to discovering everything we're capable of.”

“I'll drink to that.”

“S
o what made you go into the field of human sexuality, when you could have so easily been a chef?” Nadia asked as she dug into the delicious meal. “It's not like people wake up one morning and go, ‘Hey, I want to study how people think about sex.' I didn't even know it was something you could study for a degree program.”

“True, and thank you,” he said as he watched her eat. His focus should have made her self-conscious but he seemed pleased that she enjoyed the food he'd prepared for her. “You'll be happy to know that there's no great tragedy in my past that led me to my chosen field. Not really.”

“Not really?” She munched on a skewer of vegetables, cupping her hand to catch the juice that squirted when she bit into a tomato. “What does
not really
mean?”

“My parents and I lived all over the world before we settled in Seattle when I was thirteen. So I got exposed to a lot of different cultures and people. Some places are more sexually repressed than America, but many aren't. There are some that recognized a third gender, for example. It was halfway through my freshman year in college when I had an epiphany. It might have been the copious amounts of alcohol and the lively discussion on men and women and dating and sex and what was acceptable that inspired me. Anyway, I realized that sexual education—real education, not just lip service—would go a long way to encourage sexual acceptance in society as a whole. Especially if we could all agree that consenting adults are sovereign in their own bedrooms.”

“Or kitchens,” she added with a sly smile.

He winked at her. “Or their own kitchens.”

“Okay, so you got a degree in sexual psychology and became a professor. But you do more than teach, right? You write too.”

“Actually, I did some writing and counseling before I became a professor,” he replied, pausing to finish off his vegetables. “I got on with a think tank in D.C., published some more, and then got noticed by Dean Campbell at Herscher. She invited me to join the newly created Center for Human Studies here. Then the Red Light Rapist case happened.”

She nodded. “I remember a little about that. Every thin blonde woman between eighteen and thirty thought she was a target. How did you get involved?”

He fiddled with his wineglass, looking sheepish. “Well, I had the temerity to tell the FBI their profile was wrong. Things went downhill from there.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “Taking on the FBI? Is that what got you on all the national news channels?”

He grimaced. “Yeah, it was apparently a slow news week. Anyway, the publicity led to more speaking engagements, a book deal, and a rush to get the department ramped up. After all, Dr. Kaname Sullivan, Professor of Human Sexuality, Center for Human Studies, Herscher College, sounds awfully impressive to the media. It made it seem like I actually knew what I was talking about.”

“You did know what you were talking about.”

“True.” He said it matter-of-factly, as if he had no reason to be modest when it came to his career. Truth be told, he didn't. “The net result was record enrollment in our program, which made everyone at Herscher happy.”

She took a sip of her wine. “It might have been a slow news week, but I'm sure the fact that you're drop-dead gorgeous didn't hurt.”

“You just called me gorgeous. I'll have to remember that.”

“Don't let it go to your head, Professor. I'm surrounded by gorgeous people.”

“But not drop-dead gorgeous ones,” he replied with a grin. “I'm sure my genes had a lot to do with my popularity, but I'm lucky in that I have a brain to back up my looks. The book deal followed, and like I said, we're bursting at the seams as far as enrollment is concerned. I'm hoping that will translate into tenure pretty soon, since I really do enjoy teaching.”

“Maybe it's my imagination, but I thought I heard a
but
in there. Am I wrong?”

“No.” He took her hand, kissed her fingers. “The downside is that I have to deal with ambitious colleagues and young coeds with stars in their eyes, not to mention overactive imaginations.”

“The nickname.”

“Yes, the nickname,” he agreed. “Not only that, but the road to tenure is always a rocky one. I have options though. I'll survive.”

“Goodness, Kane. Coworkers and students?” Her muscles trembled with the need to hug him, offer him comfort. Other than the first day he'd come into the café, she'd never seen him upset. He was always cool, almost detached, even though she knew now he was anything but. She had no idea what he faced daily in his job.

“And with that, I'm done talking about myself. I'd much rather talk about you.”

“Me?” She waved her free hand with a laugh. “We've already talked about me.”

“I'd like to get to know you better, Nadia.”

“There's nothing much to talk about. My life's pretty boring now.”

He snorted. “With the company you run and the friends you keep, I seriously doubt your life is boring.”

“Okay, maybe not boring,” she conceded. “But it's nothing like it was before.”

He kept a hold on her fingers, and she enjoyed the warmth, the easy comfort. The realization that she trusted him had surprised her. Trust wasn't an easy thing for her anymore, not after her experiences in her former life. There was something about Kane, though, something about his quiet, commanding air and ability to smoothly take control that told her that she could trust him. She believed that he would push her while making sure she was safe. Surely sharing bits and pieces of her life was a small price to pay for that?

“Do you miss it? Your former life?”

She dropped her gaze. “Sometimes,” she admitted softly. “It was cool being the ‘it' girl for a while. Being young and pretty and thin with a slightly bent personality didn't hurt either. I had the show and cookbooks, and outside of the show I got requests to do birthday and wedding and party cakes for a lot of musicians and young Hollywood types, which meant I got into a lot of parties. At parties you get exposed to things, sometimes without even realizing it. Partying and shooting the show took a lot of energy, and I leaned on my manager more than I should have. The problem with burning the candle at both ends with a flamethrower chaser is that you burn out way too fast. Which is exactly what I did. Then reality hit me in the face for good measure, and I paid the price.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, rubbing his thumb lightly over the back of her hand.

Her shoulders tightened. She wanted to draw her hand away. She wanted to hold on forever. “No, I don't. Not to you.”

A muscle in his cheek flinched. She knew she'd hurt his feelings when he released his grip. “Okay.”

“Kane.” She blew out a breath, wrapping her fingers around his hand and bringing it to her chest. “The Los Angeles me was completely different from the Crimson Bay me. I like that you don't know that other version of me. That you only know this Nadia, the café owner. The reality show me wasn't very nice at the end, and I'd rather that you not know too much about her because I don't want you to look at the current version of me differently. Does that make sense?”

“It does.”

She squeezed his fingers. Even though she held his hand against her chest, she still felt the same warm tingles resonating throughout her body whenever he touched her. “I like this current version of me. I think this is the real me, the way I was before I went to Hollywood. I also really like the way you look at me now.”

It seemed to take an effort for him to tear his gaze away from where his hand lay folded against her cleavage. “What way is that?”

“Like you could eat me up.”

“I can. You're a smorgasbord of pleasure, Nadia, and I want to take my time with you.” He lifted her hand to his mouth. “Spend the weekend with me.”

The request punched her low in the gut. She wanted to say yes immediately, and that alone made her pause. “Spend the weekend with you? At your place?”

He nodded, confirming she hadn't misheard him. “If you can't do Friday night because of working the café Saturday morning, then spend Saturday afternoon and all day Sunday with me. I promise not to keep you up too far beyond your bedtime. But if I do, I'll make sure you're so exhausted you'll fall asleep immediately.”

“Kane . . .” His name was half whine, half plea from her throat.

“Do you not want to spend the weekend with me?”

“Are you kidding? My lady parts are still jumping for you and are all
heck yeah
. But the rest of me is thinking there's no way I can keep this up. I think I'm going to have to change my multivitamin to an oyster blend or something.”

He laughed. “I'm pretty sure that's only alleged to work on the male of the species, but it'll be interesting to see the results.”

He nibbled at her fingertips, making her moan. “I don't know if you noticed or not, but I didn't mention the words
sex
,
garden
, or
orgasm
in my invitation. In fact, it's entirely possible that I simply want to show you my kitchen. My mother has a ramen recipe that will make you cry tears of joy, and I'm not talking about the stuff that's fifty for a dollar and in every college student's pantry.”

Cooking with Kane. The idea was certainly tempting. If he approached the culinary arts with the same dedication with which he approached sexual pleasure, cooking with him was sure to be a decadent, fulfilling experience. The man knew how to appeal to her most basic needs. Still, “Somehow I doubt that we can be in the same room alone for more than half an hour and not end up having sex.”

He sucked her forefinger into the warmth of his mouth and she nearly slid off her chair. “You may be right. Or we could challenge ourselves and go for a whole hour before having sex. So does that mean yes?”

She closed her eyes, the only way she could manage the sensations churning inside her. “It means I wish I could, but I already have plans.”

“Oh.” Disappointment filled his voice.

A twinge of guilt spiked through her. Or was that her own disappointment? “If you recall, you and I just started a couple of days ago.”

“That's true.” He pressed a kiss to her wrist, leaving thrills in his wake. “I suppose I'm being greedy, but I haven't finished my very thorough exploration of you yet.”

“One Friday a month Club Tatas hosts the Crimson Bay Bombshells. They're a burlesque troupe, and Sugar is one of the performers. The show's this Friday. I'd like it if you would join us.”

His brows lowered in confusion. “I thought Club Tatas was a drag joint?”

She snorted. “I should be surprised that you know that, but for some reason I'm not. Yes, Club Tatas is mostly a drag revue. But on the second Friday, they add a burlesque show. Sugar performs in that.”

“You mentioned Sugar before. Which of your friends is Sugar? Siobhan?”

“Bingo. Sugar Malloy is Siobhan's stage name. She's really good.” She traced his eyebrows with her free hand. She hadn't realized how pleasurable the simple act of touching another person could be. Then again, she hadn't had an overwhelming need to touch someone like she felt with Kane. “Will you come? We get dressed up in costumes and just hang out. Even Vanessa comes, and it's not usually her type of scene. The core—that's me, Audie, and Jas, my assistant baker—sit with Vanessa because we tend to not drink when we're out, so she has a safe buffer around her.”

Those fathoms-deep eyes watched her as he digested that information. “Does Vanessa need that buffer because she's still in recovery for alcohol?” When she nodded, he added, “Will she mind that you told me?”

“I don't think so. If you're going to hang out with me, you'd eventually end up hanging with my friends. You'll need to know what you should and shouldn't do around them, like ordering a round of tequila shots for our table.”

“Makes sense.” His expression remained thoughtful. “Is she the only one?”

“All of us are recovering from one thing or another. It's part of why we stick together and have one another's backs. But we also like the hell out of one another.”

She paused, wondering if he was having second thoughts. Equal parts relief and disappointment welled inside her. She wanted to keep seeing Kane. And, she realized with surprise, she wanted to be with him outside of a bedroom. She liked talking to him. Would Kane want to interact with her and her friends in a social setting, though? She and her friends had issues they were in various stages of managing, and some were managing better than others. Sometimes things went great and sometimes they got messy.

“None of us are perfect, and we try our best to accept people as they are, without judgment, since we're all works in progress. Do you think you can handle that? It's no big deal if you think it's too much trouble. It can be a bit much at times for outsiders to take on.”