Spicing Up Trouble: a romantic comedy (6 page)

The food smelled delicious, and I asked Sally for hot sauce.

"Sorry we're not a gourmet restaurant. Just ketchup, mustard, and mayo," she said as she left.

"You like spicy food?" he asked.

"Yes, I make my own sauces and marinades. Irene uses them in her restaurant."

"I've had the house brand. You made that roof of my mouth numbing sauce? Everyone requests it. That's gotta bring you some major cash."

"I don't charge her, she's family." I swiped my tongue through some whipped cream.

He paused, blinked twice, and exhaled.

"We were talking about how much Irene owes you for the gum searing sauce. You realize making the stuff in house costs money. She figures it in the cost of the meals and charges her customers. It's a basic economics thing. The bar does very well, I'm sure she could afford to pay you."

"I know, I like doing favors for my sister. She's busy and needs a hand once in a while." I shrugged.

"A sweet and generous soul. Where have you been hiding?" he asked as he shook his head.

"Around," I said as I spread ketchup on my food, and dove in. "I love ketchup, don't you?"

"Not since I was ten. Before that it was my favorite vegetable."

"You need a secretary to answer the phone and type letters and pose nude?" I asked between bites.

"No, I need someone to meet with people, discuss plans, and report back to me. I need a middleman or woman. Most people spend their time gushing over my mother or me. I want to say, 'Cut the bullshit, and give me the straight pitch.' Maybe a third party would make them be more professional and objective. I want you to model either way. How much did you make at the paper?" he asked, finishing half of his burger.

"Forty five thousand."

"For a talented chef, known for discretion and beauty, a salary of ninety thousand plus would be the minimum."

He offered me double my salary to pose nude and answer the mail. I counted this negotiation as a win-win. If he threw in sexual favors, I'll add another win.

"Is the job only art business?"

"I'm involved in a number of businesses thanks to my father."

Dare I ask a follow up question about his dad? No, stick to banal topics.

"How's the food?" I asked as munched a fry

"Not bad," he said and shrugged.

He finished the rest of his burger and plowed through the fries. I hated to leave my uneaten food, but I didn't want to keep him waiting. Then he focused his gaze on me. "A new job should be easy for you to find. You cook and write. You could offer advice through a blog or website or make food to go. You could work for me and yourself."

A fourth win? He thought I was talented and ambitious. Who was I to burst his delusion?

"I cook for friends and family. I don't have a big enough kitchen to cater."

"You could rent space and hire a staff." He polished off his milkshake with an empty straw slurp.

Nice to know he thought I had skills, but running a business took time, money, and contacts. I needed something now.

"
Single Chicago
has an opening in its lifestyle department. I would offer recipes and review kitchen gadgets: blenders, toasters, and specialized utensils. Sounds like loads of laughs, but now it's all I have on the horizon." I wiped my hands on my napkin and pushed my plate to the side. Discussing my dismal future curtailed my appetite.

"Don't limit yourself. I'm sure someone has noticed and admired your work at the paper. You probably have a following."

"I have received nice emails thanking me for recipes."

"Create a database of recipes and look for subscribers to your newsletter. For your skills, opportunities are endless."

He was the only person who didn't make me feel like a fool about yesterday. He seemed happy to have met his muse, whatever that meant. I hoped it had nothing to do with porn.

Sally came to clear the table.

"Did you want a box?" she asked, pointing to my half full plate.

"No thanks, I'm finished."

"Pay up at the front," she said as she set the check on the table and gathered up the dishes.

He grabbed the check and paid at the register while I finished my shake. He strolled back to the table to leave a tip for the hovering Sally. As she watched him drop a fifty, her eyes grew to saucers. She collected the money and slid it under her bra strap.

"The lunch was divine," he said.

"You must be new here," she said.

"First time."

"Come back anytime." She paused for half a beat then added, "Alone."

She gave him an all-knowing wink and laughed.

Maybe he should ask Sally to pose. Peroxide blonde hair, false eyelashes, fire engine red lips, bursting cleavage, and hips the size of saddlebags. She was quite a package.

Me? Jealous? Of course not. But if she winked at him one more time, I'd pluck her hair out one woven strand at a time.

"Thanks for lunch." I extended my hand to him.

He took it, kissed it, and tucked it in the crook of his arm. My mind conjured up an image of him kissing every inch of me.

"Do you want to go anywhere else, or shall I take you home?" he asked.

My apartment? And then what? A quick romp and let the door hit him in the behind on his way out. This needed to end before it began.

"I don't want to trouble you. I'll catch a cab."

"Alexia, your things are in my car's trunk."

"Oh yeah, I guess you have to take me home."

"It's not a chore. I like being your chauffeur." We began to work our way down the sidewalk. "Do you have any other siblings besides the vigilant Irene?"

"If you think Irene's bad, you don't want to meet Eleanor. She's the oldest and meanest. Irene's stronger, but Eleanor's sneakier. When I was little, I would watch them fight. Always to the death or until Mom yelled. How about your family?"

The light changed, we stepped off the curb, and a cab rounded the corner and almost sheared off Ben's foot. The cabbie honked, and then wheeled around us, flashing a one-finger salute.

"Such a friendly place," he said as we ran across the street before the light changed again.

We continued down the sidewalk. I decided he planned to ignore my question.

"Before we narrowly escaped death, you asked me about my family. It's just me and my father. Irene said your father had passed on, where's your mom?" he asked.

"With Dad."

"I'm sorry. How many years between you and your sisters?"

"You would make an excellent reporter. You flip every question back to me and avoid answering about yourself."

"I hadn't noticed." He smiled as we entered the parking garage.

"You know you do it. There are only months between me and my sisters. Eleanor and Irene were adopted. I'm my parents' biological creation. They're twenty-eight and I'm twenty-seven. Now, no more questions about me and mine."

"Don't be offended. You interest me." He opened the passenger side door for me then rounded the car to get in the driver's side.

"Two more questions." He leaned over and kissed me firmly on the mouth. "And if you were a tree, which one would you be? That's a trick question because there's no wrong answer."

He had a lot of nerve kissing me without my permission, but he was damn good. The answer to the tree question was none of the above because someone would cut me down, which would hurt, or I'd get infested with bugs or struck by lightning. Then there was the part about falling in the forest and no one would hear me. Way too many factors to consider when it came to the tree selection, so I chose to focus on the lip lock.

"You're a hell of a kisser," I said.

Never feed the ego. He'll think I was interested in more and didn't mind being grabbed. Unfortunately, both were true.

"Thanks. Next time I'll give you more warning so you can help."

Fair enough. We rode in silence because I sucked my lips into my mouth to savor the taste of him. Mint from the milkshake with a splash of swagger. We arrived at my building. I offered to leave him at the curb. He insisted on carrying my meager affects upstairs.

"Put the box anywhere. Would you like some coffee?" I opened the apartment door.

"Please."

He set the box in the living room by a wall, and I switched on a light. The leather recliners were separated by a mission style lamp and table. A television and stereo system dominated the opposite wall. I slid into the kitchen to start the coffee.

He sat in the recliner and watched me. I felt like I posed for him.

Don't go there
.

He had seen me nude, supposedly to help my career, not destroy my life. I rotated from the coffeemaker to confront him, folding my arms over my breasts.

"Sorry, I'm distracted by the light playing with the colors in your hair." He tried not to smile, but the rising dimple gave him away.

"I bet you say that to all the girls. Speaking of models, how many nudes have you done?"

Could I be more graphic?

"If you mean painted, as many as possible," he said.

Thank goodness the coffeemaker beeped because my skin heated up
.
I poured two cups and brought them out. As I handed him a cup, our fingers brushed. The vibration reached down to my core. I sat in the chair opposite him. We sipped quietly. A primal urge crept into my brain, ordering all logic and decorum switches to turn off. He had to leave before I pinned him to the floor
.

"Thanks again for lunch and the ride," I said.

"Alexia, I'm attracted to you, too. I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, but it won't be denied. I'll pick you up at seven tomorrow. We have a lot to discuss: your career, my painting, and our future." He put the mug on the table and stood up. "I'll see myself out."

Too late. He wasn't going anywhere. I put my arms out to him. He lifted me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. Our mouths met, and the world disappeared. No past or future, only the present. The house phone rang, and the machine answered.

"Alexia, its Eleanor. Irene told me about Benjamin Nance Gorgeous Hunk Cobb. Now I want your take. Don't leave out any details because I'll stalk you until I know all."

He broke the seal of our lips, but kept me suspended with his strong arms as he sauntered into the kitchen. Resting my butt on the kitchen counter, he picked up the receiver.

"Eleanor, you can call me Ben. Alexia and I are working on the details. When she calls you back, if she has any complaints, please let me know. Bye."

He hung up, and I started laughing.

"I will never live this down. Thanks for wowing my sisters."

"Did I wow you?"

He embodied wow. Unfortunately, I wasn't a sex-at-first-sight kind of gal. How long would I be able to hold out? If I didn't put out soon, would he be gone?

"I'll see what you have in store tomorrow," I said.

"Am I being dismissed?" He lifted me off the counter and set me down on my feet.

Was that a monkey wrench in his pocket or was he happy to see me
?

"Not in a bad way, just in a not right now way."

"I can do slow and easy. I'd rather do fast and often, but you're in charge. I'll see you tomorrow." He strode to the door, and I followed. "Remember; be kind when you talk to your sisters. I want them to like me and not corner me in a dark alley."

"Their opinions mean nothing. I like you, and I'm glad you gave me a chance to return the kiss."

"Whenever you want another one, let me know." He opened the door.

"Only one?"

I went beyond wanton today.

"Careful, Alexia. I don't need much more persuasion. You've got a long night of dreaming of me ahead of you. If you think of anything unusual or unmentionable, please write it down. We'll compare notes at dinner."

He leaned in for a kiss. My lips barely touched his.

"Thanks for everything today," I said.

"My pleasure. I intend to sketch my dreams. Since your front is as inviting as your back, I won't be able to sleep at all. See you tomorrow."

He kissed me again quickly and left.

I watched him hike down the hall and get on the elevator. When the doors closed, I put my index finger on the corner of my mouth and went around my lips in a full circle. I popped the tip of my finger in my mouth and exhaled.

He tasted so good. What if he had suggested a quick tumble for his trouble? Would I have been on my back in an instant, without a moment of hesitation, morals be damned? Just like every other woman he had ever met? The thought made me pause, but not stop.

Now, what to tell my snooping sisters and what to leave out.

CHAPTER THREE

I waltzed into my bedroom, considered the tiny double bed, and imagined him there.

I removed my clothes and joined him. With closed eyes, I remembered the intensity of his stare as he painted. I presented myself to the phantom Ben and let him see all of me. He smiled in appreciation. While letting him explore, I fell asleep with the thought of those hands and tongue traveling everywhere.

I woke up at seven at night, hungry and disoriented.

I remembered my explicit dreams and vowed never to tell a soul. The sheets entrapped my shameless body. The thought of his caress caused such turmoil and longing. The imaginary Ben had worn me out. What would the real one do?

The light blinked on my answering machine. My email probably filled up, too. Between my sisters and former colleagues, everybody wanted to know what happened either yesterday or today. A full-page ad in the newspaper where I gave a full account would save time. I tugged my flannel robe on and trudged into the living room.

The front door opened, and Eleanor stepped in.

"Good, you're alive." She balanced her purse and three bags of fast food in her arms. "The first fifteen messages are from me, the rest are from Irene. She had to go to work, so I'm on the late shift. She gave me an overview of the artist formally known as reclusive. On the phone, he sounded yummy."

"I don't like to include the neighbors in our little chats, and there had better be extra fries," I said, closing the door.