Heat: A Bad Boy Chef Romance Read Online Free PDF

that it was intentional. This isn’t the sort of thing that happens accidentally. After I’m done with the bastard, the only job he’ll be able to get is flipping burgers at McDonald’s.”
    At that, Roche smiled. I was relieved she wouldn’t try to talk me out of punishing the saboteur. I put some butter and garlic in a pan and lit the stove. It didn’t put out much heat. Roche’s apartment needed a lot of work.
    “You should really get out of this neighborhood,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t bite my head off about being poor again. She was paid well, but living in the city is expensive.
    “What’s the point in throwing my money away on rent? I practically live at the restaurant. Besides, I’m saving up.”
    “For what?”
    “To start my own restaurant.”
    I glanced at her over my shoulder. I recognized the look in her eye. It was the same hunger that drove me when I was starting out. I was determined to succeed no matter what. Roche had the same fire inside her.
    “How much have you saved? If you open a restaurant now you’ll be younger than me when I opened my first place.”
    “I’ve got a long ways to go,” she admitted. “But I’ll get there.”
    “Of course you will. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
    She perked up a bit and ventured into the kitchen. She kept her distance as if she was afraid I might bite. She watched me toss the prawns in the butter while roasting the vegetables on a separate burner. I poured butter, white wine and herbs into a second pan and started to make a sauce. Her critical eye followed my every move. I couldn’t tell if she was watching for a mistake, or trying to memorize my moves so she could replicate them herself. Probably both.
    “You’re fast with your hands,” she said.
    “I’m used to working with a skeleton crew. It wasn’t until recently that I had a big kitchen staff. I had to work quickly in the early days to keep up with demand.”
    I opened the cabinets and pulled out two plates. I plated the roasted vegetables first, then the prawns and sauce. Roche pulled out two forks and handed me one. There was nowhere to sit in her tiny studio apartment except on the bed.
    Roche sat down on the corner of the mattress. I tried to give her space. She was already so jumpy around me I didn’t want to scare her away. I sat a couple feet away, but under my weight the mattress bowed causing Roche to slide towards me. She smiled and mumbled an apology as our body’s crashed together.
    I watched her face as she dug into my dish. Her eyes closed as she chewed the prawn.
    “Oh my God…” she said.
    “Good?”
    “How can you bring out so much flavor with only a few simple ingredients?”
    “Magic. Keep eating.”
    She took a bite of roasted asparagus and smiled. From then on, she was so focused on eating she barely spoke. It was one of the best compliments you can give a chef. When we finished, I took her plate and put them in the sink. I started to clean up, but she stopped me.
    “You don’t have to do that. I’ll take care of the dishes.”
    “Nonsense. Relax. I’ll take care of the mess.”
    “No, really. I’ll do it,” she protested. She put her hand over mine, stopping me from scrubbing the plates. For a moment our eyes met. Her hand lingered over mine.
    “Your skin is like velvet,” I blurted out. “That’s rare in a chef.” We’re usually covered in burns or cuts.
    “I try to take care of myself,” she said weakly.
    She stepped back and let me finish with the dishes. I took my time cleaning them. The situation made me nervous. I had to get a grip. When I was finished, I turned to Roche. She sat on the edge of her bed, her legs crossed beneath her. She leaned back, propping her chest out. I tried to keep my eyes on her face. It wasn’t easy.
    “Get some rest tonight,” I said. “I expect to see you early tomorrow.”
    I should have turned and left, but I couldn’t make myself move. Suddenly Roche was before me, barefoot and tiny.