The Sextet - Sharing [The Sextet Anthology, Volume 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (12 page)

so...swanlike. You know we’re partners in the restaurant, right?”

She bit the inside of her cheek. That stupid nickname.
Grr. Since

when is being smart a bad thing?
And
twin
implied a relationship she and Jay did
not
have. He’d instigated the whole damn birdbrain idea.

Ignoring her old insecurities, she nodded and gestured him into

the kitchen. “I prefer Wren. Familiarize yourself with the setup. No

looking inside the refrigerator or the cabinets until I say so.”

“Sure thing, Wren.” He ambled to the cook station on the far left,

leaving her to stare at his broad shoulders and tight, muscular ass.

Mm-mm.
Beefcake, it’s what’s for dinner.

“Nice setup.”

Of course it was. She worked in the space every day, had designed

it herself. No respectable food chemist would settle for less.

“Thanks.”

Two Many Cooks

87

A metallic knock brought her attention back to the door.
Spencer

Andrews, Dane’s partner in crime, if not in business.
She turned toward the man she fantasized about every other time she pulled out

Reliable Richard. Storm-gray eyes met hers. Her lungs seized again,

and her nipples tightened against the fabric of her bra, sending a

spasm of anticipation between her legs. She suppressed a moan.

Damn, but she’d have a vision of sexiness with Dick tonight. Maybe

two if she felt adventurous.

“Hi, I’m Spence Andr—”

“Desiree couldn’t be here. I’m the—”

“Wren McCoskey. Wow. I’d know those pretty green eyes

anywhere. What happened to the long red hair? Not that I don’t love

the multicolored spiky look.” He smiled and toyed with one of her

spikes, sending a shiver down her spine.

Be still my heart. And could I please not spontaneously combust?

“—maid of honor. You’re at the station on the far right.”

He tilted his head to one side. “You do realize this presentation is

unnecessary, don’t you? Dane specializes in pompous in that

pretentious restaurant he runs with your brother. If you want an

enjoyable meal, I’m your guy.”

I don’t doubt you taste delicious.
“Desi said head-to-head

competition.”
Shall I smack myself now?
What a choice of words.

Why did she torture herself?

His mouth formed a grim line. “I don’t like being forced to sell

myself, but if that’s what it takes to convince you, then I guess I have

no choice.”

Brooding looked good on him. Not pouty or whiny. Too damn

sexy. And she was buying, for herself, if not Desi’s reception.

She strode to her test kitchen area, sensing Spencer’s presence

behind her. “Gentlemen, you have four hours to create two appetizers,

a salad course, one bread, a soup course, and two entrees—one meat

and one vegetarian. Both stations have been stocked with the same

supplies and tools. Read and sign the agreement on the center island,

88

Mellanie Szereto

stating you will follow my rules and abide by my decision. Refuse to

sign and you’re disqualified. Sabotage will
not
be tolerated. Any questions?”

“Yeah, I have a question. Are you dessert?”

The words must’ve come from Spencer since she stood facing

Dane, and his lickable lips hadn’t moved, except to grin at the man

behind her.
Hmm
. Maybe Desiree’s request had some benefits besides gourmet cuisine and great scenery after all. “That depends on who

wins.”

Let them stew over that.
I win either way.

Spencer rounded the center island of station two. “The bride

didn’t say what we’ll be making. Do you have the menu, Wren?”

She smirked at him, then at Dane.

With pen poised above the contract, Dane froze. “Okay, what’s

the catch?”

“No menu. Use whatever you have in the kitchen to make your

own.” She grinned.

Fletcher frowned at her. “That twist was your idea, wasn’t it?”

“Got it in one.” She shrugged. “Be creative. Isn’t that every chef’s

desire?”

Spencer’s laugh tickled her insides. “Or we’re put on the chopping

block?”

“Yeah. So chop, chop. The clock is ticking.” Tapping her finger

against the face of her watch, Wren raised her eyebrows. “Six o’clock

deadline. I’ll make my decision at six-thirty.”

Then we’ll see about dessert. Eenie, meenie, mine-ee, mo.
Was

she in the mood for a Dane-ish or a Spencer Cocktail? Maybe her

Magic 8-Ball could help with the answer.

“I’ll be back in a minute.” Putting an extra wiggle in her hips, she

walked to her office, closing the door behind her. She picked up the

black ball from her desk. “Okay, great and powerful Eight, do I

choose Dane?”

She flipped the ball over to peer at the answer. “Better not tell you

Two Many Cooks

89

now.”

“Should I choose Spencer?”

She flipped the ball again. “Ask again later.”

Damned thing was as indecisive as she was.

* * * *

Eyeing the contract, Spence had to give Wren credit. She wasn’t

going to put up with any bullshit. Play by the rules or lose a golden

opportunity. She could make or break his shift to catering. The same

for Fletch—and her cocky son of a bitch brother—since they’d

decided to go into catering the same week. Both of them needed this

first prestigious contract.

Dane clearly had his sights on their judge, too. Not that Wren

wasn’t worthy of the hard-on she inspired. Her low-cut tank top and

tight blue jeans outlined an amazing body. Did she have a seductively

hidden tattoo to go with the pierced belly button? Maybe a red heart

on her perfect ass? He’d conduct a thorough search when they burned

up the sheets. And she might have a mix of purple, blue, and green on

her pixie head, but he looked forward to finding that natural red in her

panties. That she’d been the inspiration for more than one wet dream

back in high school was incentive enough to make a play for her. Her

enticing curves were a bonus, and the interest in her eyes only

encouraged him.
After dinner.

He picked up the pen, signing by the X. Time to get down to

business. He turned to pull open the refrigerator door and study the

contents. Yeast. Fresh basil, thyme, oregano, dill, mint, parsley,

and...cilantro. Hmm. Raspberries, strawberries, lemons, limes. And an

eclectic assortment of vegetables, meats, cheeses, and...edible

flowers? Interesting. He moved to the counter, lifting lids on the

canisters. Granulated sugar, cane sugar, unbleached all-purpose flour,

graham flour. A fully stocked spice rack.

His imagination buzzed with excitement over the foods he could

90

Mellanie Szereto

create. A pallet-pleasing combination of flavors and textures designed

to catch the eye with a unique blend of colors and shapes. His feast

would easily win the contract.

And then dessert. Wren
à la mode
. God, he’d waited a long time

for the real thing.

* * * *

Dane scribbled notes as he checked out the available ingredients

in his station. Herb-stuffed veal cutlets with steamed asparagus and

pearl onions. A bed of spaghetti squash topped with grilled

portabellas and cannellini in a Roma tomato-Marsala sauce. Leek and

carrot bisque. Crusty basil-pecorino focaccia. Roasted red pepper-

eggplant wontons and sesame wafers with pesto. Spinach salad with

lemon vinaigrette.
Let Andrews come up with courses as fucking

creative as those.
He would go crawling back to his trendy bistro after dinner, and Wren would provide the evening’s best course. Rack of

swan and pussy
au jus
—the perfect complement to his perfect meal.

But first, the business of securing this catering gig, not that he minded a little competition among friends.

He concentrated on chopping basil and some well-disguised

cilantro for the pesto, wielding a duplicate of his favorite knife over

the pungent leaves. Wren knew the importance of good tools. His

cock twitched.

Click, click, click
. He looked up at the sound of heels on the tile floor.
Ah. The woman with superb knowledge of tools is back.
Mixing the herbs into the bowl of olive oil, garlic, toasted chopped pistachios, and sea salt, he grinned. “Want a taste, sweetheart?”

He held out the spoon.

She pursed her full red lips, narrowing her eyes at him. “Trying to

influence the judge?”

“Not at all.” At least not the way she thought. “I’m curious

whether or not you can identify my secret ingredient.”

Two Many Cooks

91

She relaxed slightly and stepped toward him.

Holding the spoon beyond her reach, he waited.
One more step
.

He raised the spoon. When she parted her lips, he slipped the tip

inside, far enough for the dab of pesto to disappear.

She closed her mouth over it.

Pulling the spoon away, he touched a finger to the corner of her

lips, then licked his finger. “Mmm. Don’t want to waste any.”

Her irises darkened from sage to thyme, and her throat undulated

as she swallowed.
Effective first move.
He’d spend the next three and a half hours bringing her sexual appetite to a simmer. By the time she

finished dinner, she would be ready to come to a rolling boil.

Sneaking a covert glance at his competition, he almost laughed.

Spence could use his jaw for a fucking can opener. It clenched and

unclenched as his gaze followed Wren’s every move. Damn if the guy

wasn’t pissed about the taste testing. Or maybe the not-so-subtle

come-on? Did Andrews have plans of his own for the swan? Dane

didn’t mind competing in that arena as well. May the best man get

laid.

* * * *

Spencer punched his fist into the bread dough.

Fletcher had hit on Wren, changing the rules of play. His

competition had balls, but they weren’t seeing any action tonight. Not

with her anyway, friendly rival or not.

Turn, punch, turn, punch. He needed a plan, one involving enough

innuendo she couldn’t possibly misread his sexual interest. Dane had

gone for feeding her.
Maybe take that an intimate step further.
Turn, punch. He absently plucked a pinch of dough for a taste. With his

hand halfway to his mouth, he stopped.

“How about a taste of mine, Wren?” His erection grew, imagining

her tasting him. He shrugged at Dane. “Fair play.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, one corner of her mouth lifting.

92

Mellanie Szereto

Damned if she wasn’t enjoying this battle for her attention. She strode

to his station, opening her mouth as she stopped in front of him.

Who the hell needs a spoon?
His finger and thumb passed her lips to deposit the dough in her mouth. She stroked the pads of both digits

with her tongue.

He struggled to breathe. If she wasn’t interested, she had the cock-

tease routine down pat. Damn, he didn’t want to wait until after

dinner for dessert.

“Mmm. Secret ingredient, too?”

He nodded, pinched another dab of dough, and held it out for her

to take.

She grinned. No need to hint at his expectations. She tucked the

morsel between his lips.

Wrapping his tongue around her finger, he gently sucked the way

he planned to suck her swollen clit later, the way she would suck his

cock.

Her cheeks flushed, and her pupils dilated then vanished behind

heavy eyelids.

He sucked again, gently pulling her hand away against the

suction. “I love secret ingredients. Yours is cayenne. Hot and spicy.”

Sneaking a glance at Dane, Spencer almost laughed out loud at the

eye roll and silent mocking of his words. He didn’t need to read lips

to know Fletch wasn’t thrilled about him flirting with Wren. Their

friendly competition had reached a new level. They’d never let a

woman come between them before. Would they now?

“Does it feel warm in here to you?” Wren fanned her face with her

hand.

Yeah, she’d jacked up the heat all right. A bead of sweat trickled

down his back as Dane swiped his sleeve across his forehead.

“I’m going to change clothes. No cheating or arguing while I’m

gone.” She clicked across the room to grab a suitcase with an airline

tag attached to the handle.

“I don’t cheat.” Spencer didn’t mention arguing, because he

Two Many Cooks

93

couldn’t promise they wouldn’t.

“I don’t
need
to cheat.” Dane evidently saw a disagreement

coming, too.

A minute later she closed the door of what he assumed must be a

bathroom.

“What the hell are you doing, Spence?” Dane’s raspy whisper cut

through the sexual haze. Why the hell didn’t the guy go lock himself

in the freezer? “You couldn’t back off, could you?”

Dane’s question didn’t bother Spencer—not with that teasing grin.

Surely she would choose him over Fletch. He’d do a little more

convincing when she returned. “Why should I when I’m interested?

Flirting hardly justifies exclusivity. To be honest, I think she’s

enjoying the game.”

Setting the dough in the greased bowl, he flipped it over to coat