Midnight & Mistletoe Page 2

  “Yes, my family is mostly from Europe and mostly Italy, though I have some India descent in my family tree on his side, too.” He said as he lowered his hands and placed them in the pockets of his skin-tight black jeans.

  God, how she wished to be those hands touching his skin through that thin layer of fabric on his thighs. Priya! Don’t, girl! It’s barely an hour into your first day!

  “Sounds nice. Mine were mostly from Italy, too.”

  “I wish I could have them here for the holidays. Unfortunately, they are all deceased.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that. It’s always hard when our loved ones have passed. I’ve had my fair share of family members dying these past few years, too. There aren’t that many of mine left either. I’ve got some cousins on my grandfather’s brother’s side, and that’s the side from India. But that’s about it.”

  “Yes, and sadly, you can’t do anything except live on without them.”

  “True.” Priya lowered her gaze.

  Not knowing what more to say, she quickly changed the subject. This was the first time she met and connected with her boss, and she’d be damned if she screwed this up. She had to get him to like her; talking about dead relatives would not cut it.

  “So, have we decided on quail stuffed with prosciutto and figs?”

  “I think so. Come back to the kitchen, and I’ll show you how I make and plate it.” He said as he patted her shoulder and smiled.

  Another wave of energy surged through her body as his hand patted her shoulder, and she swore her stomach did a backflip.

  They both worked in relative silence in large part in the now all too massive kitchen for the first few minutes as they diced up some onions and garlic. To Priya’s surprise, it was an extremely comfortable quiet between them. Usually, when getting to know a coworker, she’d fill the time with idle chat, but this time was different. She didn’t feel a need for it. He didn’t swear up a firestorm as he had earlier in the morning, which was a welcome relief. But he didn’t talk all that much either. However, he did tower over her shoulder as she seasoned the quail with salt and pepper on her cutlery board. She wasn’t one to use more than the pinch her ancestors told her to use. Sure, some of them would argue as she grabbed the seasoning between her fingers. But in the end, they all seemed to celebrate once she gingerly salted and peppered her meal. A rush of heat shot through her as he gently tapped her on her forearm.

  “Very good. Now rub the meat with this herbal poultry mix and butter like this.” The tone was as soft as the touch of his hands over hers.

  “Make sure you get every curve—I mean cranny. Rub every part of that thing, so it browns well.”

  She laughed internally after she let out a shaky breath. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one moved by the love they were making in this kitchen.

  Priya! Stop it, girl. No sexy thoughts while you make food!

  “Yes, sir.” She had to say something and thought it was best to jest with a cheeky smile.

  “Here,” He handed her the figs and prosciutto to place inside the bird’s cavity.

  His hand grazed hers again, sending another course of electric heat through her arm and traveling straight to her core.

  “Thanks.” She directed her gaze at the bird in a desperate attempt to avoid eye contact.

  “That looks beautiful.”

  “Thanks. I think it looks good, too.”

  “The quail?” He whispered in her ear as he bent over her.

  “Yes, the quail. What did you think I meant?” She asked as heat rushed to her cheeks when she turned to meet his gaze.

  His lips turned into a broad smile.

  “I’m asking if you could pass me the quail so I can place it in the oven, but if you must know, that dish isn’t the only beautiful thing in this kitchen.”

  She swallowed hard before handing him the dutch oven that contained the quail, and he placed it in the oven. She quickly busied herself with chopping some lettuce for the side salads they were pairing with the quail.

  The aroma of the quail browning beautifully in the oven touched their noses after an hour of baking. Braden pulled them out and smiled as he turned to her.

  “Smells and looks like perfection.” He said while he made up a plate. “I’ll leave you to plating yours as I have shown you here.” He said as he started wiping his hands. “You can sample these since this was a practice plate. I’ll catch you before the dinner rush. I have a taping to do for the show and will be out for the rest of the afternoon.”

  Priya smiled at him briefly before getting to work on plating the dish. She watched him leave the kitchen. It was bittersweet to see him go because even though his backside was genuinely exquisite, she had to admit that a part of her wanted him to stay. Cooking up something a little more with her than just a dish was looking to be more on her menu than she cared to admit to herself. And she blushed at the thought of feeling that way about her boss.

  Having spent more time with him proved he wasn’t as intimidating of a person as she initially thought he was. Still, she was happy that he wouldn’t be breathing down her neck for the next few hours, giving her the freedom to walk about the kitchen without brushing against his hard body. The back of her neck began to sweat just thinking about how many times his hips touched hers while chopping away. And the reprieve would give her something else. It would be the chance she needed to build a rapport with the others in the restaurant. Especially that crazy hostess and the poor prep chef who was still sulking in a dark corner of the kitchen.

  Priya knew she needed to get the employees to see Braden’s good side. If they could see that, they might be more cheerful and professional while on the job. And that, and not so much the food, was Priya’s focus for this budding restaurant.

  Still, her long-term goals would be pointless if she didn’t perfect his execution. She looked up from her plate and compared it to his, which looked identical. She was pleased with herself right down to the carefully placed herbal garnish.

  “C—can you show me what I did wrong?” Said a shaky voice to her right.

  Priya looked up from the plates and saw the woman Braden had yelled at earlier. Her blue eyes were bloodshot and puffy from an apparent marathon crying session. Some of her short black hair clung to her cheeks, which were stained with tears.

  “Sure. Why don’t you get more quail, and we can start a new batch from scratch? I’m Priya, Priya Pant, by the way.”

  “Donna. Donna Brightman.” Said the woman as she nodded with a weak smile.

  Donna looked at what Priya was doing and followed until their plates mimicked each other.

  “Perfect, Donna!” Priya said with a smile.

  The kitchen door flung open. Braden walked through and headed straight towards them both. He looked at both plates, sampled them both, and nodded approval.

  “Thanks for setting Donna straight, Priya.”

  Donna lowered her head and tiptoed to the prep station in the kitchen’s corner to start on the asparagus for the salmon side dish. She let out a sigh. Braden followed Donna with his gaze as she walked over to the cutting board. He shook his head slightly and then turned his eyes to Priya.

  “What’s wrong with her? She’s acting like I killed her cat.” Braden said in a loud whisper.

  “She’s still upset about this morning.”

  “Why? It was a mistake—she corrected it, and we moved on.”

  “Braden, do you not remember your tone and all the foul language you used with her this morning?”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake! I swear all the time. That’s just who I am.”

  “It’s an unbecoming tone for an employer.” Said Priya as she frowned and shook her head.

  “Oh, please, is Little Miss Prissy Priya going to tell me the error of my ways?”

  Braden crossed his arms and puffed out his chest as he chuckled. Priya didn’t want a choral repeat of this morning, so she narrowed her eyes and crossed her own arms in retort.

  “For your inf
ormation, my daddy was a preacher, and he taught us we didn’t need to swear to get our point across to others. He also taught us not to name-call. You do realize that name-calling is a form of bullying, and you, sir, are acting like a child with all your elementary school comments.” Priya let out a puff of breath. She couldn’t believe she was sticking up for herself and the employees she and her boss shared this early in the game. But as his eyes softened to amusement levels, she grew angrier. “You know, I really thought I was getting through to you earlier when we were cooking the quail together. I guess I was wrong.” She let out another breath. “It’s like you’ve got a Jekyll and Hyde syndrome going on or something.”

  Braden’s eyes widened, and his lips curled up before he let out a chuckle. This one was heartier than his first.

  “Wow! I didn’t think I hired a true Southern belle. This is going to be interesting.” He laughed again before turning on his heel to head towards his office. “Very interesting, indeed. Hopefully, you can keep up with this Texas kitchen heat, Ms. Priya.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Braden laughed again before closing the door to his office. She desperately wanted to run after him, giving him more pieces of her mind. The man clearly needed a good tongue lashing because he forgot the manners his momma, bless her heart, taught him. Of all the times she’d used the phrase, this was most likely the first time she was using it out of sympathy for a woman she only knew through the tabloids and media. A regal and proud woman whose eyes lit up with adoration whenever the papzz interviewed her about Brayden as a child. After a few seconds had passed and she slowed her breathing, she decided against following him. The only certainty of an action like that was her getting fired. And now, more than ever, she wanted to keep this job. If for no other reason, she was determined to keep it to show Mr. Bossypants that he couldn’t get her goat!

  Two

  SOUTHERN COMFORT

  Braden had come into work far too early again, and this time he did it without a coffee in hand. It’s always a dangerous move to go without it, and not because of being tired and needing the caffeine to feel more alive. He was a vampire, so there was no need for a jolt to awaken. Being immortal meant never tiring and never needing to sleep. But the need for caffeine was two-fold. One, it made him feel more capable of functioning in the kitchen. The sweet nectar was satisfying and paired well with blood, should he need to conceal his thirst around the humans he employed. And two, bringing the cup to his mouth has helped squelch some of the choice words he has wished to express to the idiots he works with frequently.

  He wished he’d stayed home a little longer this morning because the 18 hours spent yesterday taping for his show, “Cooking Like The Boss,” was excruciating. It was mostly a waste of a day on the set, and he also wasted what little time he had yesterday to pick the specials for the week. Usually, a long day wouldn’t faze him, but working with a cameraman that couldn’t get the right angles to save his career proved beyond difficult.

  In the cameraman’s defense, he was fresh out of college, but they should have never trusted that guy with a show ranking number one on the Food Channel. The taping was so bad that no amount of duct tape would fix the blatant errors. Though Braden wondered if the beautiful invention could muffle the sound of the whining coming from the college puke every time Braden corrected him.

  When Braden was forced to work with the new prep chef Donna before the sun came up. And then witnessed her senseless butchering of his quail recipe at The Odd Duck. He simply lost his shit. The last thing he wanted was a repeat of yesterday with another newbie, and his choice of language showed his frustration.

  Not that he had never sworn a day in his life, but even he had to admit that his NY potty mouth was over the top for six in the morning. And then Priya had to walk in. She grew more and more beet red from each of those choice words he uttered. Braden found it hard to contain himself when she sported the horrified look on her face. He actually wanted to take the bite out of his words. And possibly taste the sweet essence from her neck once her accent gave him enough reason to think she was a quiet Southern belle. She was a picture of perfection, and he yearned to drink her in. And in both the literal and theoretical sense. But her look of horror alone made him chuckle enough to forget about his horrible day with the cameraman. And for that, he was grateful. How a human could make his dead heart forget such an atrocity was beyond him, though.

  He had mainly hired her because of her perky breasts. The cute accent that made him smile during the interview was merely an added bonus. Her drawl proved a welcome change to the harsh tones of his sharp New York one. He never once imagined that this woman would have any talent. Not one person he hired had even a sliver regarding gourmet cooking. Most chefs coming fresh from school have little flare, and he figured he’d have to mold Priya into what he needed her to be. But the spit-fire that came from her lips about food and professionalism told him otherwise. And that passion within her made him tongue-tied as he led her to his office.

  That passion made his dick hard, and all he could think about was the heat they’d make in the kitchen, so he started showing her the recipes. When they reached for the note on the prosciutto, he felt an electric current shoot through his arm and right down to his core, making his dick strain at the zipper on his pants. If just a graze of her touch made him worry that his cock would pierce through his pants, he couldn’t imagine what kissing her would feel like, or better yet, what having her pussy anchored around his shaft would be like. He hadn’t experienced an ounce of attraction to a woman in probably a century, maybe two. Sure, he’d had his way with women because even a vampire has itches that needed a scratch. But those women meant nothing to him, probably because they were after his money and fame. It wasn’t hard to read the minds of humans. Priya, however, wasn’t after any of that. In fact, her primary goal was to see him succeed. It was something he never thought a human would do. All the ones he met were as selfish as vampires, only caring about and looking out for themselves. Her thoughts only intrigued him—even excited him, making him wonder if he had made a mistake hiring her. Because what if he got close to her? Every woman he had in his bed before filled his need. Priya was different, and he understood that the more he talked to her. She seemed to fill a hunger within him he assumed had died long ago.

  Don’t shit where you eat, Braden! You know that!

  He now had to be careful around her because just the sight of her made him want so much more from her than she might be willing to give.

  She’s mine! I want her as my mate! No one else shall have her! No one!

  Braden always lived his vampiric life simply. Whatever he wanted, he took, and to hell with the consequences—not that any mortal could refuse him, but he yearned for more from Priya. He wanted her to want him. And that was a dangerous thought. He had to get away from her and clear his head. Her breezy-smelling perfume, perfectly curvy body, and large breasts proved too much of an enormous distraction. Before Braden did the unthinkable, he needed to run out of there, claiming her lips and worshiping her body for the goddess she was. Acting upon his very desire for her right there in his kitchen. He needed to be inside her, to fuck her until she screamed his name. And to hell with the health codes, they’d be violating. He didn’t give a shit about any of it. That was another red flag for him. Even when he cared for a woman, he never let them into his world. He kept his passion for cooking and his love for the show all to himself. No one could see that world, not after Celeste.

  Thankfully, they still needed to finish up some voiceovers for his show. Braden hadn’t planned on working on them until after The Odd Duck closed for the evening. The staff needed him at the restaurant, and he needed to spend time with them and Priya. Braden needed them prepped for the week’s specials, if nothing else. He also wanted to observe Priya’s management style while she interacted with his staff. Brayden hadn’t realized it until Priya pointed it out—he’d been yelling and swearing at them an awful lot, espe
cially these past couple of weeks. Braden did it out of stress because the show was all-consuming, and he knew he needed a sous-chef in his absence—hence hiring Priya.

  He watched, mystified, as she artfully caressed the quail and rubbed the spiced mixture he gave her onto the breast. Fantasies of her stroking his chest with those same skillful hands washed over him. A picture of her wrapping her hand around his dick rushed over him, too. He quickly reached for the dutch oven and turned on his heel to pop it in the oven, thankful for having something else besides Priya to do in the most proverbial of senses. The idea of taping the voiceovers entered his mind again, and he deemed it the perfect excuse to leave her while he still could. Before her perfume tempted him even further, he barked a few orders for her to plate the food on her own, and then he turned on his heel and left the restaurant.

  Don’t look back! You’ll never leave if you do!

  It surprised him that his head overruled his conviction to stay as he hopped in his Mercedes-Maybach S-Class and drove towards the studio.

  Time spent at the studio grew long and tedious, not because yesterday was a disaster but because Braden found it hard to keep Priya out of his mind. He finished wrapping up the few voiceovers they needed to tie up the show. And then found himself back at the restaurant as the lunch rush was about to get into full swing. He hoped he could control his urges, but she threw all hope out the window when he walked in and saw Priya teaching Donna how to make the quail dish.