An Appetite for Seduction

By Paige Bennett

Quinn Foster is a restaurant critic with a discerning palate for fine food, and an equally discerning eye for the beauty of African American chef Jameka Rollins. A deliberate mix up of a review for Jameka’s restaurant, The Bayou Bistro, causes some severe misunderstandings between the two singles.

Helping this mix-up along is a work rival of Quinn’s, Stan Turner. Jealous of Quinn’s success and status at work, and of his growing romance with the lovely Jameka, Stan sets out with a plan to discredit Quinn and win Jameka away from the man. But as is the way with best laid plans, they often go awry, and can, in fact, get downright dangerous.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Skyla Dawn Cameron
• Release date: Feb 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781519986498

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An Appetite for Seduction

Paige Bennett

Books by Paige Bennett

The Awakening of Alyce

Lust and Found

Beautiful Music

Focused Desire

Obsession

Cheek to Cheek

Appetite for Seduction

Hot for the Handyman

To Sir, With Lust

The Hottest Heat #1

The Hottest Heat #2

Cheek to Cheek

Copyright © 2013 by Paige Bennett

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Edited by Tina Marie Smith and Skyla Dawn Cameron

Cover Art © 2016 by Skyla Dawn Cameron

Second Edition February 2016

Previous Published February 2013 by Phaze Books

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author or her representative.

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Chapter One

Quinn Foster lifted the fork, and peered at the morsel of pork chop. Juicy. Perfectly cooked, he mused. He sniffed and smiled. Fragrant and rich. With great anticipation, he closed his mouth around the tender piece of honey mustard glazed pork loin chop. He pulled the fork free and sat back with a sigh, chewing contentedly and savoring every bit of the exceptional flavor. It was a wonderful way to be spending his Friday lunch.

Succulent, he thought. Tender, flavorful, juicy... None of the adjectives were doing the meat justice. It had been cooked impeccably. It was perfection on a plate. There! That was how his review would begin. He paused a moment to type onto his Blackberry. Bayou Bistro’s fare is perfection on a plate.

That hurdle jumped, he set his PDA aside and cut another piece of the pork, adding a dollop of the mashed sweet potatoes. As he chewed, he sat back, eyes closed, concentration on the flavors in his mouth. The chef was a genius with seasoning. True to the name of the small restaurant, the cuisine offered a hint of the Cajun culinary influences. Quinn wondered if perhaps the chef, Jameka Rollins, was from Louisiana originally. His research had told him she had trained under some of the very best chefs in North America, including a brief stint with Emeril in New Orleans.

The ambience of the bistro was also inspired by New Orleans with its natural brick walls, touches of wrought iron here and there, intimate tables and soft lighting. Recorded zydeco music played softly in the background, completing the illusion. The place was packed for lunch, and Quinn noted that there were people waiting at the door for the first available table. That spoke well to the drawing power of the bistro.

A man on the far side of the restaurant caught his eye. He was tall, slender and very elegant in his dress and his mannerisms. He was chatting with a table full of customers and obviously entertaining them, for they were quite animated and laughing freely. This must be the much touted manager of Bayou Bistro, and business partner of Ms. Rollins, Luc Beauclerc. Quinn had done his homework on him too.

Beauclerc hailed from New Orleans where he’d already established a reputation for taking struggling restaurants and turning them into winners. He wondered what had originally brought him to Toronto. He watched as the man turned and seemed to signal to someone back toward the kitchen area. A moment later a statuesque, rather voluptuous light-skinned black woman in a sapphire blue chef’s coat appeared, and Quinn’s breath was slammed out of his body. His meal was forgotten.

This must be Jameka Rollins, the bistro’s owner and chef. His research had told him she was twenty-eight, young to already own her own restaurant. But she had been raised by her restaurateur father and pastry chef mother, both highly successful, so the business was in her blood. With her training, she was more than qualified. It must have been during her stint in New Orleans where she had met Beauclerc.

She was exquisite. Stunning—as succulent as the meal he had enjoyed...even more so. He felt feverish suddenly, his cheeks hot and his heart thumping erratically; and more telling, his cock had noticed his interest, and now swelled uncomfortably against the press of his trousers’ fly.

Her hair was pulled up and twisted into a knot at the base of her skull. She sported a flat top chef’s hat in the same shade of blue as her jacket. Her eyes were large and expressive, her nose small and pert, her lips full and luscious and at that moment curved into a smile at something one of the diners had said, showing perfect pearls of teeth.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, and perhaps she felt his scrutiny because she looked up a moment, appearing puzzled, until she met his eyes and then her expression changed to surprise.

He was suddenly self-conscious at being caught staring so openly, like some teenager with his first crush, so lowered his eyes and made a pretense of resuming his meal. But his appetite had fled—his appetite for food, that is. And when he chanced to look back over, because he couldn’t help himself, she was gone and some of the luster went out of his day.

Well, he had a review to write, and he smiled. She would love his review, his glowing praise for her skill in the kitchen and for the enjoyment to be found at her bistro. That would be a good time to come back and introduce himself to the lovely Chef Jameka Rollins.

He shivered in anticipation at what that meeting might begin.

****

Get the pasta on, Jameka instructed while she finely diced tomatoes.

Yes, Chef.

She smiled. Her staff was well trained, and the kitchen ran like a well-oiled machine.

Ted, how are the clams?

Two more minutes, Chef.

The vegetables diced, Jameka wiped her hands and took a moment to survey her kingdom. Everyone was busy; dishes were being prepped, plated and handed off to the wait staff with efficiency. She could breathe easy and relax a moment. She heard her name, and looked up to see Luc gesturing from the archway leading into the kitchen for her to join him. It was likely that he wanted her to meet some customers.

She made a face even as she patted down her uniform and made sure her hat was on straight and no stray tendrils of hair had escaped the bun. She disliked being trotted out like the star of a dog and pony show, but it was an essential part of public relations in her business, so she bore with it.

Ted, hold the fort, she instructed. I’m needed out front for a few minutes.

No worries, Chef.

She wasn’t worried. She knew her kitchen staff would carry on smoothly. After all, she’d hand-picked and trained them all herself.

She took a deep breath and sauntered out to join Luc at a table where sat two middle-aged couples whose faces lit up at her appearance.

"Je vous présente Chef Rollins," Luc said.

I’m pleased to meet you, Jameka said, shaking hands all round and half listening to the delighted babble from the couples—a mixture of French and English as far as she could tell. This explained Luc’s interest in introducing her. These were fellow Francophones.

She was able to follow much of the conversation, having acquired an ear for the French language during her time in New Orleans, so was able to thank the guests for their compliments regarding their meal. Soon Luc took back the reins of the chat, and she took a moment to survey the busy dining room.

It always pleased her to see the tables full, the wait staff hustling, and to feel the relaxed and welcoming ambiance of her bistro. It made her feel proud.

She was about to head back to work, when she noticed a man watching her from across the room. He appeared to be at a table alone. As her eyes connected with his, it was as if she felt a physical blow in her solar plexus. She gasped and her heart skipped a beat.

He was so handsome, so intense, so very manly. His shoulders were broad, his face sharply sculpted. Yet his eyes were warm and expressive, his lips full and eminently kissable. She flushed at this thought. How could she be thinking about what it would be like to be kissing this stranger? His dark brown hair was fashionably disheveled, a lock hanging over his forehead, making her fingers itch to brush it back into place.

Her hands shook, and she was about to lean over and ask Luc if he knew the man, when she was tapped on the shoulder. She jumped and turned to find Emily, one of her staffers, behind her.

Sorry Chef, didn’t mean to startle you, the girl said.

That’s okay. Jameka glanced quickly back at the stranger. He still watched her, and she was certain that he was a shaken by the meeting of their gazes as she was.

You’re needed in the kitchen, said Emily.

On my way, said Jameka, and turned to say her farewells to the table of guests. She shook hands all round once again, and after one last surreptitious glance toward her handsome watcher, she fled to the kitchen.

She was able to deal with the mini-crisis quite easily, all the while her mind filled with curiosity about the man she’d noticed. By the time things were running smoothly once more, she’d made a decision. She’d go back out and introduce herself to the man under the guise of asking how he enjoyed his meal. That decision made, she again smoothed down her jacket and headed out, only to be disappointed. He was gone.

Luc’s compatriots had also left, and Luc was moving from table to table doing what he did best, schmoozing the clientele. Jameka caught his eye and signaled him over to where she stood in the archway.

"Oui?" he asked as he ambled up to her.

She pointed out the table where the lone man had dined. Do you remember the single man who was sitting there?

"Oui. Why do you ask?"

Good question. Jameka shrugged and felt her cheeks flush. I was—um—just curious. He was watching us while we talked to your guests.

Luc’s left eyebrow went up, and he pursed his lips. Really? How interesting.

Jameka caught the teasing inflection and elbowed her friend in the ribs. Cut it out. I’m just curious, that’s all.

"He was very handsome, non?" Luc now wore a grin.

I suppose. Jameka was reluctant to play this game with Luc. So, have you seen him here before?

No, I cannot say I have. And a handsome man like him, I would remember. Perhaps you should speak to Katie. She waited on him.

Thanks. I will. Jameka immediately searched the room for the girl.

Luc gave her a long, careful appraisal and smiled. Well, well, he remarked under his breath. Good for you. And he wandered off to continue his rounds.

Jameka knew she was making a fool of herself, but she couldn’t get the stranger out of her mind. The way he had looked at her; the way he had almost devoured her with his eyes.