Feel the Heat (Hot In the Kitchen) by Kate Meader Read Free Book Online Page A

burned. He opened his mouth— that crooked, sexy mouth —and she put up a hand to stop him.
    “You had better be a good tipper, Kilroy, because money’s the only way you’re getting out of this intact.”
    “Lili—” Gina tried to cut in.
    Lili waved a hand. She had this.
    His feet didn’t move, but his upper body leaned in so close she caught the scent of his skin, woodsy and citrus, reminiscent of a Sorrentine lemon grove. New man smell, nothing like it. He combed his fingers through his thick—and more lustrous than it had a right to be—hair.
    “I actually came to apologize to Gina. Cara was bang out of order and shouldn’t have said what she did.”
    Gulp.
    So maybe she didn’t have it after all.
    She shot a death glare at her cousin, who offered a wobbly smile in return.
    “I’m sorry. I misunderstood the situation,” Lili muttered before snapping in Italian, “Gina, take another bottle of Brunello to Mr. Kilroy’s table. Then it’s your turn to check the restrooms.” Her cousin slunk off.
    Lili turned back to the Duke of Hunk, who had crossed his arms over that barrel chest and appeared to be waiting for a more groveling apology than the one she’d just given.
    “You’re still here,” she said.
    “I am.” He smiled.
    She scowled because it was the opposite of smiling, and if she gave him the slightest opening, he would take it as some sort of encouragement.
    “You seem tense,” he said, his brazen grin widening.
    “I have a lot to do and you’re very distracting.”
    “You find me distracting, Lili?”
    It was the first time he had said her name—correctly—and it sounded like a devil’s whisper. Her heart pounded like a trip-hammer. She choked out a laugh because it was ridiculous to be affected by something so silly as a man saying her name, even when the way he said it was calculated to make pulse rates soar and panties plummet.
    “Oh, I don’t, but your siren call seems to have cast a spell on my girls. Maybe you should try to rein in your”—she flapped a hand and accidentally brushed against his chest, still solid, and warm, and male—“tendencies, so the rest of us can do our jobs.”
    “If you can’t control your staff, that’s not my problem. I feel like a tourist attraction over there with all the visits from your girls. Perhaps you should train them better.”
    Irritation simmered in her chest. She took great pride in how she ran DeLuca’s and in how her employees behaved, but she reluctantly admitted that the excitement of Jack’s visit might have led to a drop in everyone’s game, including her own. She was such a girl.
    “There is nothing wrong with how my staff is trained.”
    “So, trashing the fish special, arguing about the wine, and practically sitting in customers’ laps is all part of the training program? I’ve suffered through enough cleavage Italiana to last a lifetime.” His eyes gave an indolent dip. “Well, almost enough.”
    He was doing it again, that thing where he spoke and he looked and her body ignited, setting the women’s movement back fifty years. His voice took a shivery road trip down her spine and back again. She tried to think of something to say, but her usual sass was out on a smoke break in the alley.
    He tilted his head. “I understand this is a family business, but you may want to consider casting a wider net. Nepotism usually results in an inferior product.”
    At last, her voice returned from its sabbatical. “We don’t hire people because they’re family.” Well, except for Angela. And, um, maybe Gina. Both were unemployable. Dammit. “We hire people because they’re good at their job. If you’d stop flirting with them and let them do that job, things might go a lot smoother.”
    He moved in, taking up a stance a hairsbreadth from her body. “Don’t worry, I’m not interested in any of your waitresses,” he said, his voice a silky caress. “I’m more than willing to aim higher. Maybe even as high as the