A Taste of Temptation. Cat Schield

father’s rare appearances in her life hadn’t been filled with warm moments. In school she’d been a leader and her habit of ruling by persuasion and occasional ruthlessness hadn’t won her the love of the majority of her classmates. But it hadn’t mattered as long as they followed her. Or so she’d told herself.

      “Let me call Logan and see what he suggests we do.”

      “I’m sure he’s not going to want you to do anything,” Harper said with a faint smile.

      “Since when has that stopped me?”

      Scarlett had given her fiancé a lot to worry about after inheriting some files from Tiberius Stone, Violet’s surrogate father. The casino owner had been murdered by a local councilman who’d been embezzling campaign contributions. Tiberius had accumulated a storage unit full of people’s secrets including his brother-in-law, a man who’d stolen the identity of Preston Rhodes, a wealthy orphan from California. Violet had gone to Miami intent on bringing him to justice in order to help her husband take back his family’s company.

      “It’s rolling to voice mail,” Scarlett said. After leaving Logan a brief summary of the situation, she hung up. “It won’t take him long to call me back. Do you want to wait?”

      About to say yes, Harper suddenly remembered she still had Ashton’s go bag. “Can’t. I have to see a man about a bag.”

      Scarlett cocked her head in puzzlement, but nodded. “As soon as I hear from Logan, I’ll call you. In the meantime, can you stall your mother?”

      “I can try.”

      Leaving Scarlett, Harper made her way back to the Fontaine Ciel’s executive floor. Mary had gone for the day, locking Harper’s office before she left. Harper half expected Ashton to have persuaded the personal assistant to give him his bag, but to her surprise, either Mary had resisted the celebrity chef’s charm or Ashton had stuck to his part of the bargain.

      Either way, she grabbed the bag and shot a quick text to let him know the luggage would be waiting for him at Batouri. But when she got there, she was surprised to find Ashton sitting at the corner table where his bag had sat earlier.

      * * *

      When the door to the restaurant opened, Ashton was nursing a tumbler of ten-year-old Scotch. It was his third. The first two had gone down fast and smooth. He didn’t think he should continue at that pace or his dinner with Cole might not go the way Harper wanted.

      That she spotted him so fast made him smile. She felt it, too. This irresistible pull between them. How had he ignored it until now? Oh, she was good at hiding it. And he hadn’t exactly given her any reason to feel more than irritation toward him. He wanted to strip her layers of professionalism away and get to the firecracker below. How hot would the fire burn? And for how long? With fireworks, the thrill was in those seconds of exhilarating danger. The breathtaking waterfall of light. The big boom that lingered in the chest even after the sound faded.

      Still, it might be worth sacrificing her goodwill to experience the rush.

      “What brings you here?” He sipped the Scotch, felt the burn in his chest.

      “I’m returning your go bag.”

      He’d been so focused on Harper he hadn’t even noticed that she was towing his bag along.

      You’re slipping.

      In the places he traveled, being distracted for even a moment could be trouble.

      “The deal isn’t done with Cole yet,” he reminded her. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep it hostage for a bit longer?” Maybe take it back to her suite. “I could pick it up later.”

      She parked the bag beside the booth. “I’ve lost my taste for blackmail in the past few hours.” Her gaze flicked to the glass and then to his mouth.

      His heart tapped unsteadily against his ribs. “Anything you’d like to talk about?”

      “No.”

      “Are you sure?”

      Was it the alcohol that was making him light-headed or the way she was staring at him as if she wondered what he’d taste like? She reached for his glass, and he figured she was going to chastise him for drinking up the restaurant’s stock. Instead, she lifted the tumbler to her lips and tossed back the last ounce of Scotch. He expected her to come up coughing as the strong liquor hit her throat. Instead, she licked her lips and smiled, her eyes thoughtful and distant.

      “My grandfather loves Scotch.” She set the glass back on the table and turned to go.

      “I’m a very good listener.” Ashton claimed few virtues. Giving a speaker his full attention was one. But would she trust him to share what was going on?

      Harper hesitated before facing him once more. “My mother came into town unexpectedly.”

      Ashton relaxed, unaware until his lungs started working again that he’d been holding his breath. “I noticed the air between you two wasn’t particularly cheerful.”

      “Do you have a good relationship with your parents?”

      He shook his head, the twinge in his gut barely noticeable. “I left home at fifteen and never looked back.”

      “I’ve read everything ever written about you and I’m pretty sure that wasn’t part of your history.”

      He knew better than to be flattered. “It’s a story for another day. We’re talking about you.”

      Her gaze was steady on his for several seconds. “My mother moved to Florida when I was eleven, leaving me in New York with my father who was rarely home. At the time I hated her for not being around, but as I grew up, I realized that being away from her criticism gave me the freedom to make mistakes and learn from them without being afraid she’d make me feel worse.”

      “I’m not sure many people would be as unaffected by their mother’s abandonment as you are.”

      Harper gave him a wry smile. “Don’t for a second think I’m unaffected. I’m just realistic. My mother didn’t abandon me. She fled a situation she’d didn’t like. Penelope isn’t someone who stands and fights when she can run away and go shopping.” Harper shrugged, but she was far from sounding nonchalant. “Okay, so maybe I’m a little more bothered than I let on.”

      “It’s nice to hear you admit that.”

      “Why?”

      “Because I like you and I haven’t been able to figure out why.”

      “You like me?” Her breathless laugh wasn’t the reaction he’d expected.

      “Very much,” he admitted, more than a little disturbed by the way her delighted smile transformed her into a stunning, vivacious woman.

      “After the way I’ve hounded you these past nine months?” She shook her head, and the career woman took over once more. “I think you’re just trying to charm me. If this is your way of changing my mind about Chef Cole, you’ve got it all wrong.”

      “So suspicious,” he taunted. “That’s not it at all. I’m starting to come around to your opinion about Cole. As for the way you’ve acted these past few months, I get it. This hotel is important to you. Batouri will make a statement and depending on how it does, that statement will be good or bad. I’d be a hypocrite to criticize you for doing whatever it took to make sure Batouri is a complete success.”

      “That’s awfully accommodating of you.”

      Rub me the right way and I can be very accommodating.

      But that’s the sort of comeback she’d expect. “Does your mother visit you in Las Vegas often?”

      “Never. She hates it here.”

      “Must be important for her to show up then.”

      “She needs my help. Which is