Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
"I think Lily’s right," I said. "A five-course luxury menu might sound impressive, but people will be in food comas by the time the dancing starts. A night of sleepy-eyed people passed out at their dinner tables with no dancing hardly sounds like a wedding to remember."
"What if we did both?"
We both turned to look at James.
"Both?" Chef Antoine raised an eyebrow.
"A progressive menu," James said, leaning forward. "Start with the luxury items, but in smaller portions. Perfect bites that let people taste everything without getting overwhelmed. Then as the night progresses, transition to lighter dishes that keep people energized."
The chef's eyes lit up. "Ah! Like the mini wagyu sliders with truffle aioli I created last season—"
“Sure,” James said. “And maybe the lobster as a small ravioli instead of a full tail. Keep the luxury but make it danceable."
I stared at James. Since when did he know anything about food?
"We could do seafood towers during cocktail hour," Chef Antoine was saying, scribbling notes. "Then for the seated course—"
"What about doing stations later in the night?" James suggested. "Let people graze between dances. Light but elegant options."
"Oui! And we could do mini versions of comfort foods. Upscale but fun."
I watched in amazement as they bounced ideas back and forth. James actually knew what he was talking about. More than that, he'd found a perfect solution that would make both Lily and Marcus happy.
All I’d really seen him do before now was wreck things, from my trust in him, to the wedding in Ireland, and now my hopes of a smooth wedding for my sister.
Watching him now, I realized the whole wrecking thing may have been a choice. When he wanted, he was perfectly capable of fixing things. He was damn good at it, in fact. It was... kind of hot.
But it also made me wonder why the hell he did what he did for a living. Why wreck weddings? Why not just investigate and quietly resolve the issues behind closed doors like a normal, sane human being? I’d wondered as much for years now, but something made me not want to ask him.
My phone buzzed again.
Maggie: I KNOW YOU'RE READING THESE. DO NOT MAKE ME DRAG MY CURVY ASS TO COLORADO TO KICK YOURS. WE WILL BOTH BE OUT OF BREATH, BUT ONLY ONE OF US WILL HAVE BRUISES ON THEIR BUTT CHEEKS!
"Your man has excellent taste," Chef Antoine told me with a wink. "Now, shall we sample some options?"
The next hour was torture. Not because the food wasn't amazing—it was—but because watching James taste things should be illegal. The way his lips wrapped around each forkful, how his throat moved when he swallowed…
"You have to try this." He held out a bite of golden-brown potato crisped to perfection, then filled with a herb and chive cream.
"I can feed myself,” I said, forcing a smile as I reached for the fork.
"But where's the romance?" Chef Antoine clutched his chest dramatically. "Young love demands sharing bites!"
James' eyes danced with mischief as he moved the fork closer to my mouth. "Open up, darling. Open your mouth for me,” he added, lips twisted with wicked intent.
I was going to kill him.
I let him feed me the bite, then immediately regretted it as flavor exploded across my tongue. A small moan escaped before I could stop it.
James' eyes darkened. "Good?"
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Especially when he slowly licked a drop of sauce from his thumb while maintaining eye contact.
"Perfect," Chef Antoine declared. "Now, for the next course—"
The door burst open. Dick sauntered in, because of course he did.
"Heard there was a tasting happening." His eyes raked over me as the creepiness tried to ooze out of him like a living thing. "Room for one more?"
“We’re almost finished here,” James said coldly.
Dick smiled in a way that was more like a grimace. “Oh, come on. Your girl wants me to join. I can see it in her eyes.”
Dick winked at me, and I briefly considered sticking a fork in his eye to give him a permanent wink.
“Maybe you should get glasses,” James suggested.
Dick snorted, eyes lingering on James with hatred. “Emma,” he said, looking at me and reaching his hand out. “Why don’t you let me take you for a little walk. Get some air from this loser.”
“I’m happy right where I am,” I said, laying a palm on James’ chest and letting my fingertips run down the hard shape of his muscle. I locked eyes with him. “So happy,” I whispered.
James’ smile was the stuff of dreams as he came closer, eyes practically sparkling. “Let’s show him how happy we are, then.”
Before I could answer, James inched his face toward mine. His lips found mine in a kiss that started as possessive but quickly turned into something else entirely.
I forgot about Dick. Forgot about the chef. Forgot about everything except how James tasted and the way his hands felt on my hips.