Jill Shalvis - Room Service

Pru’s eyes filled. “Oh, my God.”

“I didn’t want to love you,” Caya said. “I tried not to. But you’re it for me.”

Pru’s eyes overflowed, and there was so much hope on her face, it hurt Jacob to look at her. “What about men-”

“They’re great, but not what I want.”

“Caya, my God. Are you sure?”

“Very. Besides, most men are maturity challenged. Sorry,” she said to Jacob. “No offense intended.”

“None taken,” he said dryly.

Caya turned back to Pru. “I’ve been out there, I know what’s waiting. I don’t want any of it, men or other women. Just you.”

They reached for each other in an embrace so real, so raw, Jacob had to close his eyes.

When he opened them, they were kissing.

“So.” He cleared his throat. “I guess you can both go now.”

They kept kissing, passionately. Jacob figured it was a fantasy of men everywhere but for him it only felt like salt on a wound he couldn’t see. “You know what? Never mind. I’ll go.”

They just kept at it, as if they didn’t need air, didn’t need anyone but themselves.

Jacob grabbed his keys and walked out of his own damn apartment.

Note to Housekeeping:

Refill the sensual massage oils and the condoms in the Haiku Suite.

THE AUDITIONS were worse than the day before, if that was even possible. American Idol rejects had nothing on the people they saw today, and after several hours, Em had her head in her hands and Liza had a drink in hers.

“This isn’t going to work,” Liza said after they’d seen an eighty-year-old woman from Russia, who could indeed cook but couldn’t speak a word of English.

“No, it’s not going to work.” A heavy dread was making itself at home in the pit of Em’s belly. “Well, it’s been fun working with you while it lasted.”

“You could talk to Jacob.”

“No.”

“You could beg Jacob.”

“Double no.”

“Okay, then.” Liza put her drink down and picked up her purse.

“Where are you going?”

“You saved my life. Now I’m going to save yours.”

“What do you mean, I saved your life?”

Liza looked at her. “I wasn’t asleep when Eric called you this morning.”

“You weren’t?”

“I was faking it. I’ve always been good at faking it. I’ve had to fake it with every man I’ve ever been with-except Eric.”

“Oh, Liza.”

“It’s because he loves me. I can believe it because he told you. He has no reason to lie to you.”

“Honey, he has no reason to lie to you, either.”

“I know, but…well, I just couldn’t be sure. Love has never been good to me.”

Em knew that. Liza’s parents hadn’t been warm and fuzzy but cold and impossible to please. Liza had been acting up all her life to prove she didn’t care. “Eric’s the real deal,” Em said quietly.

“I’m getting that.” Liza’s eyes shimmered with emotion. “And that’s my point. I can let go, let myself really love him, you know? No games, just the real thing. And it was you who helped me see it, that this thing between us can really last for the long haul.” She hugged Em tight. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for that. But I’m going to try like hell. You’ll see. I’m going to fix this for you.”

“You can’t-”

“I’m your assistant. It’s my job to solve your problems, and I’m going to go solve this. Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Just come on.” Liza opened the conference door.

Eric stood there with his clipboard monitoring the short line of hopefuls left. There were only two, a girl who looked to be about twelve and an old man who, if she wasn’t mistaken, was napping on his feet.

“We need you,” Liza said to Eric.

Without question, Eric turned to the two candidates left. “I’m sorry, that’s it for today. Thanks for coming.”

Liza looked at him as if bowled over.

“So what do you need?” Eric asked her.

Still looking unbearably touched that he’d blindly follow her simply because she said she needed him, she cleared her throat. “Let’s go. You’ll see when we get there.”

As soon as they hit the lobby and walked toward the main entrance of Amuse Bouche, Em hesitated. “He already said no, Liza.” Her heart tightened at the memories of last night and this morning. Memories he’d sullied when he’d looked at her as if she’d been any of the other women he’d let in, and then out, of his life.

She hadn’t expected that, she could admit, though what she had expected, she couldn’t exactly say. She’d known who he was, what he was. She’d known his past. She’d known he was wildly, fabulously sexy, with an edge, with a wanderlust spirit, a man who rarely settled in one place for long.

And she’d slept with him anyway, just as she’d also begun to fall for him.

That made her the crazy one, not him.

“Let’s just talk to him,” Liza said.

“I can’t.”

Liza frowned. “You look pale.”

“Just tired.”

“Long night?”

Aware that both Liza and Eric were watching her carefully, she lifted a shoulder.

“I knew it,” Liza said. “Oh, honey. Did he break your heart? Because if he did, I can break him. I can-”

“Liza.” Em smiled. What else could she do? “Let’s just fix one thing at a time.”

“Yes. Starting with the show.” Liza looked through the empty dining room toward the kitchen, jaw tight, eyes determined. She was a bulldog when it came to this stuff. “Humor me. Give me five minutes.”

The restaurant wasn’t open yet. No one greeted them so they moved toward the kitchen doors, where they could see lights and hear talking.

Liza knocked.

A pretty brunette poked her head out. Em recognized her as the sommelier from the other night. “Can I help you?” she asked, looking greatly stressed.

“Yes,” Liza said. “I heard both of your assistant chefs were out with the flu and that you’re in a real bind.”

Both Em and Eric looked at Liza in surprise.

The sommelier sighed. “It’s true. But I don’t know how you heard such a thing-”

“Oh, you’d be surprised what I hear.” Liza smiled and offered her business card. “I’m just a guest here, but you can see I’m an assistant producer, so I know how to get things done. Our location director here-” she pointed to Eric “-is an amazing cook. No formal training, but he’s doing research for a show. Maybe he could help you out today. You could call our studio for his references.”

The sommelier looked Eric over with hopeful curiosity. “Really?”

Eric, as confused as Em, nodded.

“Well…” The sommelier glanced down at the card in her hand, then back up into their faces. “You could come in, meet Chef. He’d have to approve this, of course, which, truthfully, he’s not likely to do. He doesn’t work with strangers,” she said, though her gaze turned bemused when she looked over at Em.

“Oh, we’re not strangers to Chef,” Liza said with a smile.

Em added her own weak smile. Nope, not strangers.

“Just a sec.” The sommelier shut the door.

Em turned to Liza. “What are you doing?”

“A favor for a favor. We do something for Chef, and then he’ll do something for us.”

“Liza, those are not equivalent favors!” Em cried. “One day of Eric’s services is not going to make Jacob come across the country-”

The kitchen door opened again, and there stood Jacob himself, looking tall, big, and gorgeously rumpled in his battered jeans and boots and a T-shirt that said Smile, It Confuses People.

“Em,” he said in surprise, for one brief beat his face unguarded, allowing her to see the pleasure before it was gone in a blink, carefully masked.

It made her sad to think that what they’d shared last night was going to be just a distant memory.

“Chef,” Liza purred. “Eric’s an amazing chef. He’s offering to help you out today.”

“Thank you,” he said. “But I don’t need-”

“It’s a Friday. We both know what this place is going to look like tonight, and that’s full to the gills. You can’t do it alone.”

Jacob looked at Eric. “You cook?”

“Yes.”

Jacob turned to Em. “What’s the catch?”

Em looked into his eyes and felt her throat tighten. He knew she was here for some reason, and not the goodness of her heart. All his life he’d had to scrap and fight to get by, nothing had ever been handed to him, not friendship, not love, nothing.

She wouldn’t do the same thing. She wouldn’t do this Nathan’s way. “No catch.”

He crossed his arms, disbelieving.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Coming here was a mistake.” And grabbing both Liza and Eric, she turned away.

“Wait.”

She went still, then turned back.

Gaze still inscrutable, he’d relaxed marginally, and she knew with a sudden clarity that he’d lied to her. Last night hadn’t been the norm for him, it had been just as special, just as amazing, as it had been for her.

And he’d pushed her away because of it. It had been his right to do so, and she understood it all too well.

“Help would be welcome,” he said, surprising her.

Eric shoved up his sleeves. “Just tell me where and what.”

Em nodded and took a step back to let Eric through. “Okay, then. Good luck tonight-”

“Where are you going?” Jacob asked.

“Out of your hair.”

Jacob rubbed his nearly hairless head. “No worries there.”

Em stared at him. “What are you saying?”

“I think he already said it,” Liza said, looking at Jacob as she rolled up her sleeves. “He needs help. From all of us.”

EM ENDED UP with a ponytail keeping her hair back and a white jacket over her clothes. But it was the knife in her hands concerning her as she contemplated a stack of vegetables that might as well have been Mt. Everest.

Jacob was moving around, lifting big pots, wielding equipment, working near the hot, open flame, mixing up something that smelled like heaven. Eric was on the other side of the kitchen at the open flame, smiling and joking with Pru, while Liza surreptitiously watched them from her corner, mouth grim.

They’d promised Jacob an hour of prep work. Correction. She and Liza had promised an hour. Eric would stay as long as Jacob was needed, the rest of the night if necessary, because, as he said, the experience would be fun.

From the range, Eric laughed at something Pru said.

Liza pretended not to notice.

Em wasn’t as good at pretending. Ignoring what had happened between her and Jacob last night, even for an hour, was beyond her, but she gave it the ol’ college try as she reached for a carrot and began slicing. How could he look at her and not remember?

Even as she thought it, Jacob glanced across the room at her, nothing showing on his face.

Was he thinking about what they’d been doing only a few hours before? How he’d touched her, kissed her? How when he’d been buried deep in her body he’d met her gaze and had been unable to tear his away?

Eric laughed again.

Liza set down her knife and walked toward them, a look of intent on her face.

Eric turned to her, smiling until he saw her expression. Then his changed, softened, filled with a look of such hope Em wanted to turn away, but she couldn’t.

At the look, Liza suddenly broke into a smile, as if Eric was her everything.

Eric returned it.

Pru moved away, and Eric gently touched Liza’s face, kissing her softly before going back to his station.

Liza brought her hand up to her lips, sighed, then went back to her station, as well.

And Em swallowed the inexplicable urge to cry.

“You trying to lose a finger?”

When she nearly jerked out of her skin, two arms reached around her, hands settling over hers. “Easy,” Jacob murmured.

Easy? Was he kidding? She could feel his warm, hard chest against her back, his heat, his strength. And she could smell him, some complicated mix of soap and man that was so intoxicating she felt dizzy. “What are we making?”

“Spicy Szechuan noodles with grilled Indonesian tiger prawns for the first course, snapper with tamarind-coconut sauce and bamboo rice for the main course. Then tempura bananas with caramel sauce for dessert.”

She didn’t even know what half of that was. “Sounds interesting.”

“Liar.”

Craning her neck, she looked up into his eyes. Despite the tension in his body, his eyes were smiling.

“Do you ever just make burgers?” she asked.

“Yep.”

“Burgers tonight would be good,” she said. “I could forgo chopping all these veggies.”

“Would you rather pick cilantro leaves for garnish?” he asked. “It’s easier. Or you could prep spinach leaves for salads.”

She’d had no idea how much work went into being a chef, the long hours, mostly on your feet, lifting heavy pots and pans, working near dangerous appliances at high temperatures. “I can handle this.”