She’d made dozens, enough for the entire night, and she’d done it in a three-foot-by-two-foot space in an unfamiliar kitchen and stayed out of the way as they prepped for service. She also seemed to have marketing sense. She’d gotten her finger on the pulse of Venice Beach in record time—or at least, he hoped she had, since he was taking her advice about the menu. But could she create a spectacular dessert for Vegas? The high rollers would expect culinary entertainment, and cookies and cupcakes weren’t going to cut it. Cookies.
He got to his feet, rubbing the side of his neck to ease the tight muscles, and headed for the line. He slowed as he caught sight of the misshapen blob cooling in the window and Jenna laughing. She was stirring a pot on the stove, and the guys moved around her with ease, as if she were already part of the kitchen. If he hired her, he wouldn’t have to bake any more cookies. He could eat her cookies—his brain stalled at that image—every day. He could keep a low profile and focus on reworking the menu so the Beach House would turn a profit.
By the time his mother clinched the Oasis deal, the Beach House would be in the black, the Vegas event would be over, and Jenna would have all the information she needed to reinvent Cooper’s—plus a good-sized interest-free loan he would insist she accept on her parents’ behalf.
It was a perfect solution—everyone would win.
As long as he could resist his desire to gobble her up.
Jenna turned her head, and their eyes caught. Her caramel-colored gaze filled him with heat. The sounds of the kitchen faded into the background as they stared at each other. She was as neatly put together as she had been yesterday, but he knew what lay beneath that pristine chef coat now. The memory of her sweet lips and her body fitting perfectly into the curve of his made him imagine being inside her, moving with her, driving her toward release. He grew hard, every muscle tense and aching to finish what they had started last night.
A timer went off, breaking into his fantasy, and he remembered Cole’s text. Had Jenna really had a crush on him? If so, it put a new spin on what had happened last night, but not on what was going to happen in the future. He was certainly capable of keeping his pants on and his hands off his employees.
He gave her a curt nod as he stepped onto the line. “You’re hired.”
…
Jenna’s heart pounded as she dragged the spoon back and forth across the bottom of the saucepot. The steamy look from Roman had turned her knees to jelly, and the two words he’d just spoken had done the same thing to her brain. Luckily, she didn’t have to think to cook.
“Hot, coming through,” she warned, giving the vanilla bean crème anglaise a final stir and wrapping a towel around the handle of the pot. She picked it up and poured the sauce through a strainer into a bain-marie. Then she tucked it into the waiting ice bath and gave Roman a tentative smile. “I was hoping you’d say that, so I got a jump on the desserts for tonight. Your cookies have an unusual texture, but they’ll be delicious in ice cream. Want some when it’s done?”
He scowled at her. “No, thanks.” He stalked over to the salad station to stare at a menu taped on the wall. T-Bird stepped to the side to make room for him, head bobbing in time to the music pouring out of his earbuds as he peeled potatoes.
Jenna was thrilled he’d changed his mind, but what had killed his mood so suddenly? Max caught her eye and winked, then shot Roman a sly look. “Nice picture on the beach last night, you two.”
“What picture?” she asked.
“You didn’t see it? You’re even on TMZ.” Max pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped the screen. Jenna glanced down and gasped. The shot was small and grainy, but it was clearly her—big hair, big boobs, and teeny bikini bottom—on Hollywood’s most popular gossip site.
“Fabulous,” she said faintly.
Roman glowered