Eat Your Heart Out Page 7

  “Pretty much exactly how you’d imagine.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Can I drive?”

  He slid onto the bike and handed her his helmet. “Nope.”

  “Come on, you can make it the lesson.”

  “Get on, Dimi.”

  “You’re no fun.”

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet. Now get on.” When she did, sliding her hands around his waist and pressing the front of her glorious body to the back of his, he shuddered. “Hold on tight.”

  * * *

  He took them deep into the night, along the Truckee River and up Highway 89 toward Lake Tahoe. The night was cold, but the engine beneath them kept them warm.

  Or maybe it was their combined body heat, mostly hers. Dimi couldn’t help it. The feel of the vibration between her thighs, matched with Mitch’s big, powerful body pressed so intimately to hers…she was truly going up in smoke, in an utterly foreign way. Never in her life had she gotten aroused for no reason other than lustful thoughts and a motorcycle beneath her, but she was aroused now.

  Since she’d never ridden a motorcycle before, she’d like to blame it on that, but her body was heating up from the inside out, not a usual complaint of bike riders. Mitch’s hair, sleek in the wind, brushed her face. The soft leather of his jacket drew her fingers. And the scent of him—holy cow, that alone nearly pushed her over the edge.

  Then she realized he’d driven her all the way to Incline Village. “Place of sin,” she said when he pulled over and cut the engine.

  He tossed a look at her over his shoulder. “What better place, right?”

  Oh, yeah. Her lesson. She gulped hard, most of her bravado deserting her. Then she caught sight of where they were and what they’d parked in front of and nearly choked as she leapt off the bike.

  A strip club!

  Oh, my God, what have I gotten myself into, and why didn’t I bring my cell phone, and how can I tell him I no longer want to—

  Mitch’s soft laugh broke through her panic as he pulled the helmet off her head and studied her expression. “If you could see your face.”

  “Easy for you to be amused,” she sputtered, pointing at the big, siren-red sign that read, All Nude, All the Time.

  He tossed a look at the place, then grinned. Widely. “My God, you have an imagination on you.” He wrapped a hand around her wrist, redirecting her pointing finger across the street to another sign that read, Public Beach.

  “I thought we could count falling stars there on the sand,” he said. “You can’t see them in Los Angeles with all the lights.”

  “Falling stars.”

  “Yep.”

  She grimaced. “Oh.”

  “Now why don’t you tell me what you thought I was going to make you do in that strip club?” he asked softly, leaning close with a mixture of heat and amusement in his eyes.

  “Um…”

  Shaking his head, still laughing in that disgustingly sexy way he had, he linked his fingers with hers and led her across the street to an incredibly beautiful beach. The water glowed from the meager moonlight, and the sand looked like silk. Above them, the trees rustled in the light wind, and the scent of the mountain air filled her senses.

  And so did the man walking silently beside her. He didn’t look so LA right now. Yes, he wore that black leather jacket and even blacker jeans that screamed sophistication and a been there, done that attitude, but she was beginning to see how much more to him there was than that. She remembered how he’d distracted her from that horrible front-page headline. She remembered how in spite of his teasing during the day on the set, he never crossed the line and made her feel anything but…well, wanted. And he’d not even once tried to make a move on her, not a real one, not even when she’d wanted him to.

  An uneasy thought.

  All along she’d sheltered herself from his charms by telling herself she was just a job to him. But the way he tipped his head and looked at her now made her heart tug. It also made her blood race and all sorts of other interesting things happen inside her. And suddenly, more than ever, she wanted to be the person he’d made her on television. She wanted to be that free, that sexy, and she wanted to be that way with him. “Mitch…” She stopped and turned to face him. “What are we doing here?”

  “Don’t you know?”

  “No.”

  He looked a little surprised. At the water’s edge, he sat on a large rock, then pulled her down beside him.

  They stared at each other.

  “Hell,” he said after a moment. “I was really hoping you knew what this thing is all about.”

  “You mean the thing that makes me want to both kiss you and smack you at the same time?”

  A laugh escaped him. “Yeah. That’s pretty much the thing I mean.”

  “I haven’t a clue. It scares me, you know,” she admitted. “Not just because I gave up men, or that we work together. But because when it comes right down to it, I know nothing about you.”

  Leaning back, he tucked his hands beneath his head and studied the sky. “What do you want to know? I’m an open book.”

  “Yeah, right,” she said with a laugh.

  “No, really. Ask away.”

  “I don’t want to be nosy.” But then she decided to take him up on it because curiosity won out over being polite. “Okay, tell me this. Why is everything so casual for you?”

  “Meaning I’m your opposite because you’re so serious?” When she nodded, he said, “I take plenty of things seriously, Dimi.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as…my bike. I’m serious about my bike.”

  “Name something really important.”

  “My bike is pretty important.”

  “See?” she said, frustrated. “You’re not taking me seriously at all.”

  “Okay.” His smile faded. “How about life? I take that pretty damn seriously.”

  His jaw had tightened. His body seemed to, as well. And the part of herself she’d always held back from a man softened. Opened. “What happened, Mitch? Did you…lose someone?”

  “Yeah.” His voice was gruff. “My brother, Daniel. He died from an aneurysm on his twenty-ninth birthday.”

  “You were close.”

  “Close? We were both too busy working eighteen-hour days to spend any time with each other. In our family, work was everything. Everything. Now he’s gone.” He turned his head and pierced her with a look of such loss and regret, she felt her throat tighten. “Sort of takes the edge off ambition, a loss like that.”

  “I imagine it does,” she said softly. “But you still seem pretty ambitious.”

  “No. I walk away from the job now when the day is done. No stress. I just happen to be good at what I do.”

  “I have to agree there,” she said with a little smile. “I’m so sorry about your brother, Mitch.”

  He ran a finger over her cheek. “You look so relaxed out here, not so serious at all. What is it about work that makes you that way?”

  “You.” She winced. “Well, not just you. It’s everything. The show, the people that rely on the show. It’s all such a huge responsibility. I…I don’t like to fail.” She lifted a shoulder. “And we were. Before you came along and saved us.”

  “But why resist the changes so much? You’re such a natural at what we’re doing now. So down to earth, yet utterly, completely sexy. Why did you hide that for so long?”

  “Are you kidding?” she said with a laugh. “It’s not natural. You must have heard the stories, Mitch, and they’re all true. I’m pathetic when it comes to…guy stuff. I mean, look at my track record of relationships.”

  “I think you were looking at the wrong guys.”

  She listened to the water hit the rocks for a moment. Watched the sky, which at their high altitude was more brilliant than anywhere she’d ever been, though admittedly she hadn’t been very many places.

  Unlike the man next to her, who’d probably seen and done it all.

  A flash lit up her small
corner of the night, and she straightened, excited, forgetting herself for a moment in the beauty that surrounded them. “Did you see that falling star?” she whispered in hushed awe, wanting him to experience her world, wanting him to know there was more to life than his city. “Did you?”

  “Yeah.” But he was looking right at her, not up. “You know what that means, don’t you? A falling star?”

  “That a sun just exploded?”

  “That you have to kiss the first person you talk to after you see one.”

  She didn’t mean to smile, darn him, but she did. “Really?”

  “It’s a law,” he said very seriously.

  “Ah.” Watching his mouth, she felt the heat explode inside her just as the star had exploded, wondering if he felt a fraction of the excitement she was feeling, deciding he probably didn’t and—

  “Stop thinking,” he commanded softly, slipping a hand beneath her hair to caress the skin at the base of her neck.

  “I can’t help it, I analyze everything.” Her lips were so close to his she could feel his warm breath. A frisson of something electric zapped through her, making her shiver with delight. “I can’t seem to help it. It’s just a part of my personality. Like the fact I love chocolate.” She couldn’t stop talking. It was nerves, but she couldn’t shut up. “They’re both just there, and—”

  “Dimi?”

  She gulped in a deep breath. “Yeah?”

  “Shut up and kiss me.”

  She laughed. “I’ve never kissed a man while I was smiling before, Mitch.”

  “You haven’t kissed me yet.” His fingers tightened in her hair, pulling her closer, and she leaned in, giving him a short, to-the-point kiss.

  “How was that?” she asked calmly while the pulse pounded in her throat, in her chest, in her ears. Surely it was just the mountain air making her blood hum and body sing. Sure, she could just—

  She leaned forward and kissed him again. She couldn’t stop herself. More stars exploded in her eyes, bright points of pleasure at the feel of his mouth against hers. A moan of deep, dark pleasure resounded in her ears, hers, she realized with shock, locking her arms around his neck so tight he returned the deep, dark sound, but only because she was choking him.

  “Sorry!” she gasped, backing up, horrified at her ineptness.

  But he didn’t let her go far, instead sliding a thumb over her frustrated frown. “It’s okay. Breathing is optional,” he assured her.

  One second Dimi sat there staring at him, humiliated to the core, and the next she’d garnered her courage to try again.

  Go for the moon, she told herself, and pressed against him, her mouth on his. She was kissing him, kissing him as if she was starving for it.

  And he was kissing her back, his mouth opening, making her let out a little whimper of need. She wanted more. She took more, losing herself in it until he let out a hissing breath. His fingers reached up and entangled with hers, making her realize she’d fisted them in his hair, tugging hard on the silky strands.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, face flaming as she pulled back. God, what had she been thinking? What had Cami been thinking? She couldn’t do this! “I think,” she said shakily, “I’m ready for dinner.”

  “Are you sure? Because I’ve got your hands now, so we could just try the whole thing again—”

  “I’m sure.”

  He searched her gaze, then sighed and stood, pulling her up, as well. “Next time,” he muttered, “I’m going to go bald before stopping you again.” He stroked her cheek. “Remember that.”

  She would do little else.

  CHAPTER 8

  “MESSAGES!” SUZIE CALLED to Mitch in a whirlwind the next day. As she ran past him, clipboard in hand, she slapped a stack of pink message slips in his palm. “The one on top is a doozy.”

  She was right. It was from his home office.

  Mitch, we’ve got another show for you to save. We’ll send replacement producer for Food Time within two weeks.

  Great job!

  Now get back here as soon as you can.

  Shocked, he stopped dead in the busy hallway and stared at the words. Now get back here as soon as you can.

  Someone plowed into him from behind, nearly knocking him off his feet. “Hey!” yelled the clerk, paling when he saw who he was yelling at. “Oh! Sorry, sir.”

  Stunned, Mitch looked up from his message.

  “You might want to step aside, though,” the clerk said more gently. “You’ll get killed standing here during rush hour like that.”

  Only a week ago the message he’d just received would have been cause for celebration. Now all he felt was a confusing mix of things, though a great part of that could be the way he kept getting jostled standing there like an idiot in the middle of the hustling, bustling hallway.

  “Hey, boss!” Suzie came down the hallway on another mission, grabbing his arm when she saw him. “You gotta move out of the way, honey, or someone is going to plow into you.”

  “I know.” He allowed her to pull him to the side, where the pace was more suited for an epiphany.

  He was going home.

  Yet he couldn’t seem to work up any happiness about it, because somehow, someway, when he hadn’t been paying attention, he’d started to fall for this show, this town.

  The people.

  One person in particular—Dimi of the serious eyes and amazingly talented mouth.

  Still in a daze, he walked onto the set with three minutes to spare and found Dimi sitting on the counter in a hot little sundress, swinging those long, long legs as she read, totally absorbed in the newspaper she held.

  It was yesterday’s edition, the one that screamed Sex Kitten Cooks!

  “Five minutes, people!” called the director.

  Dimi used that as an excuse to ignore him, which she’d done fairly successfully ever since their kiss.

  “You’re going to have to talk to me sooner or later.”

  Her feet swung faster, but she didn’t look at him.

  “Dimi, say something.”

  “Okay.” She looked up. “I heard you’re leaving.”

  He sighed, not bothering to point out he’d only just gotten the message three minutes ago himself.

  Thanks, Suzie.

  Was Dimi angry that he was going? Or so happy she couldn’t speak? With Dimi, he couldn’t be sure. “Want to talk about it?” he asked.

  She kept reading.

  Okay. Well, she had to do the show with him, he thought with evil satisfaction. She couldn’t ignore him there.

  “I understand we’re preparing leg of lamb today,” he said conversationally, hooking his mike to the front of his shirt.

  “Hmm,” she said noncommittally. An assistant handed her a mike. She held it in one hand, obviously at a loss as to where to pin it.

  His mood lightened considerably.

  “Looks like you have a problem there, finding a place for that thing.” Before she could protest, he took it and stepped close, as if he was going to pin it on her collar, but as they both knew, her dress had no collar.

  He let out a slow smile. “This is going to be tricky.”

  “I can do it,” she said through her teeth, the serious queen once again, making him want to laugh.

  “No, I’ve got it.” He studied the spaghetti straps that held up the bodice of the sundress, which dipped low between her very appealing breasts. “Nope,” he said, gliding the backs of his fingers across her collarbone. “Not here.”

  At his touch, she sucked in a breath.

  “Maybe…” He slid his first finger along the edging of the dress just above the curves of her breasts, touching her creamy skin. He actually trembled like a damn baby at that, but he took heart in the fact that she did, as well. “Here,” he decided, slipping his fingers beneath the strap where it connected with the bodice near her armpit, just above her left breast.

  She sucked in another breath at the intimate touch. “Are you getting your kicks out of this?”r />
  “Oh, yeah.” He wiggled his fingers. Her nipples hardened, strained against the material of the dress, making him let out a soft groan. “Definitely getting my kicks out of this. Cold, Dimi?”

  “No, I—” She slammed her mouth closed and glared at him when he laughed softly, triumphant that he’d made her admit to being turned on.

  He bent his head to the task, his back to the various crew members milling around so that no one could see what he was doing. If anyone looked over, they saw a producer helping out his host with her mike, that was all. Innocent stuff.

  They were in their own little world.

  Which was how he found himself concentrating, not on the job in front of him, but on the sweet scent of her, the mind-blowing feel of her soft, warm flesh.

  He made sure to take his time.

  The pulse at the base of her neck throbbed, and he nearly moaned again. “I have to taste you,” he whispered, and closed the rest of the distance, putting his open mouth against her neck, sucking.

  It was her turn to let out a low moan. She lifted her hands, probably to push him away, but he quickly soothed the spot he’d bitten, using his tongue, and she ended up fisting her hands on his shirt instead.

  “Twenty seconds!”

  Dimi wrenched free and stared at him, wide- and wild-eyed, chest heaving as if she’d just run a mile.

  He was breathing like that, too, and starting to sweat to go along with it. “Wow,” he whispered, which made her let out an agreeing noise as she turned away to stand on her mark. She tossed back her hair, rubbed her glossed lips together and took a deep breath, obviously desperately struggling for composure.

  She probably had no idea that her hair was tousled and gorgeous, her face was flushed and gorgeous, and her mouth… Lord, her mouth. Wet, luscious and gorgeous. She’d never looked the part of kitchen goddess more convincingly.

  “Ten seconds!”

  “Is it true?” she whispered. “You’re almost done here? You’re leaving?”

  “Yeah.” Regret roughened his voice. “I’ve been called back.”

  She nodded and looked away.

  Mitch found his mark, but he was off balance, and knew it would be impossible to gain it back in time. The line between this show and the pleasure he found in Dimi was blurring badly. He was starting to have the sinking feeling that the heart he’d frozen after Daniel’s death was defrosting.