WG2E All-For-Indies Anthologies: Viva La Valentine Edition Read Online Free PDF Page B

it was a nice thought anyway,” Jan
answered her invisible accuser.
    The rest of the way home down I-75, she
reflected on the events of the evening. From the moment she’d tied
on her apron, Mac Sinclair’s piercing dark eyes followed her. At
first she thought he simply wanted to see how she prepared the
food, but when she caught his gaze trained on her legs and not her
hands, she knew he wasn’t merely admiring her culinary skill. The
thought that this young man, blessed with classic good looks and a
Hershey’s Kiss chocolate complexion, found her attractive made her
nervous and clumsy. He sat and studied her while she tried to keep
her hands from shaking as she chopped onions and peppers for the
sauce. Uneasy under his scrutiny, she decided to fill the silence
with small talk.
    “How long have you been living here,
Mac?”
    “A little over six months.” He stroked his
smooth, clean-shaven face.
    “So, what do you think of Atlanta?”
    “Love it. I’d come here on business several
times, so when my company offered me a promotion working in their
Buckhead office, I left L.A. and made Atlanta my home.” He took the
last sip of his Red Bull energy drink and flashed a devastating
grin.
    My God, he’s fine! And he smells so good.
Concentrate on what you’re doing, Jan. Don’t chop off any fingers.
Calm down and try to keep from sounding like an idiot.
    Jan moved to the stove, sautéed the
vegetables and continued the conversation. “What kind of work did
you say you do?”
    “Sports management. I work with professional
athletes negotiating their contracts and endorsement deals, setting
up media interviews, arranging for etiquette training, bailing them
out of jail. That kind of thing.”
    “Sounds interesting,” she said, admiring his
smile. With such a lean, muscular body, he could easily be mistaken
for an athlete himself.
    “It’s a nice way to make a living. Plus some
great perks come with the job – season tickets, private party
invitations, you know.”
    “No. I don’t. I wish I did.”
    “So, how did you get to be a personal chef,
Ms. Davis?”
    “Please, call me Jan,” she said without
looking up from stirring the food. “I’ve always loved to cook as a
hobby. One day I read about a woman who’d left her accounting job
to become a personal chef. It struck me as something I’d love
doing, so I got my certification and started taking clients on the
side. Once I saved up enough money to advertise, I placed a few ads
in local papers, and things just took off. It got to the point
where I couldn’t work days and also handle my clients. Eventually,
I resigned from my job and started cooking full time.”
    “Pretty ambitious. How does your husband feel
about it?”
    He would’ve hated the idea. He wanted a
housewife, always ready and willing to feed his boring clients. It
never crossed his mind to take them out sometimes. No, it had to be
a gigantic home-cooked meal so they could see he married the black
Rachel Ray. “I’m not married. I got divorced a year ago.”
    “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, sounding quite
sincere.
    “I’m not.” Jan gazed at him, bit her lip and
turned away. Maybe that was a too forward .
    “Okay.” He rested his chin on his hand, a
bemused smile on his full sensual mouth. His lips begged to be
kissed. A primitive warning sounded in her brain. To get her mind
off his mouth, she asked, “Do you have someone to serve tomorrow
night?”
    “No. I figured I’d make it buffet style and
let everyone serve themselves. It’s not a formal dinner, just a
couple of my clients, a few potential ones and their dates. I guess
we could go out, but I want the night to be unhurried and relaxed.”
He paused for a second and smiled again as he popped open another
Red Bull. “I appreciate you doing this. You come highly
recommended. Ron Scott mentioned you one day at lunch, and
suggested I call you.”
    “He’s my best friend’s husband, so it wasn’t
exactly a professional