On the Steamy Side by Louisa Edwards Read Free Book Online Page B

happened, leaving him the last man alive in the city.

    He put his hands on his hips and waited, impatience, annoyance, and an ugly stew of anxiety about the coming dinner service turning an already black mood into a real thunderstorm.

    It was such a different experience, standing in an empty restaurant without the distraction of customers. After designing and opening five fine dining establishments in the last ten years, Devon was a veteran of the décor wars. He could pick out fabrics and choose between leather seat coverings with the best of them. He scanned the still, dim Market dining room with its soft moss-green walls and hammered bronze light fixtures with their swirls of vines and leaves with a critical eye. The tables were blond wood, bright and glossy with clean, minimalist lines. Devon liked the banquettes, too, straight-backed and private, in some sort of velvety material that looked very inviting. He strode toward the horseshoe-shaped antique zinc bar that connected the smaller back dining room to the larger front room.

    This was ridiculous. He didn’t have time to stand around here all day.

    Hoping to find a sous chef barking orders, a pastry chef kneading dough, a freaking dishwasher, for shit’s sake, Devon pushed through the swinging doors that led into the kitchen.

    There were signs of life back there; Devon heard the familiar, comforting clang of a stainless-steel pan hitting a cast-iron cooking range, followed by a breathy rasp of sound, almost like a moan.

    Devon quirked a brow. The restaurant wasn’t as abandoned as it seemed. He paused, suddenly struck by the very real possibility that he was about to come upon Adam in a state of nature with the woman Devon had played Cupid to set him up with.

    Well, sort of. Invading his friend’s kitchen with an uninvited camera crew and filming the very private confessions of Adam’s lady love, Miranda Wake, might not go down in history as the all-time most romantic matchmaking scheme. In fact, Adam had been beyond ticked about it, as Devon recalled. Still, Devon stood by the results. Adam and Miranda were disgustingly happy together; every time Devon saw them, he expected to hear the faint twittering of cartoon lovebirds swirling overhead.

    Really, when he thought about it, maybe Adam owed Devon a favor, not the other way around.

    Another clatter from the kitchen. Familiar with the aphrodisiacal effects of an empty restaurant on a newly-in-lust couple, Devon cracked open the kitchen door with a measure of caution. He could stand to go his whole life without viewing Adam’s unmentionables doing the naked mambo with Miranda’s.

    Not that he’d be opposed to seeing Miranda’s unmentionables—he was willing to bet she stripped down pretty well for an obnoxious, snarky, red-headed firecracker.

    But the sight that greeted Devon sent images of Miranda’s potential hotness flying out of his head.

    A woman stood on the gleaming work counter running down the center of the kitchen, balanced precariously on the tips of her white canvas sneakers to reach the top shelf of stacked pots and pans.
    She was taller than Miranda, he registered instantly, and sported a halo of untamed dark curls obscuring her profile from view. His heartbeat quickened.

    A breathy moan he’d heard before echoed through the room. Unbelievable.

    He had a mere five seconds to admire the delectable roundness of the backside presented very conveniently near eye level before the woman’s ankle wobbled dangerously, causing a lightning-fast chain reaction of shriek, flail, slip, and hey, presto! Devon’s arms were full of warm, wriggling womanhood.

CHAPTER SIX
    “Well, hello,” Devon said, his mood brightening like day breaking over the Brooklyn Bridge.

    The woman stopped squirming and peeked out from behind her mass of sable curls. Her silvery green eyes went wide and round as saucers, and Devon savored the startled “meep” that squeaked from her strawberry mouth.

    Oh, yes,