Chase Me (Paris Nights Book 2)(10)

Fine.

Fine.

She knew exactly why.

He was hot. He was cocky, in that way she utterly loved, as if his confidence was very well-founded. He kept making her laugh. And if she didn’t manage to control that utterly enticing cocksureness of his—

“Oh, thank you, Jesus, I had a thought,” he said with stunned relief.

She blinked. “Ah…I take it that’s rare for you?”

“Well, I was beginning to think you had permanently fried my brain.” He put his fingers to his head and gave it a slight, adjusting shake. “Look at that,” he said with delight. “There are two entire brain cells there that managed to survive. Maybe there’s hope.”

“Why don’t I share your optimism?”

He grinned at her. “Because you’re French. And it rains and it’s forty degrees in your country in freaking July. You’re going to like Texas so much better, honey. In July, we hit 114! Plus, there are stars.”

“Not Michelin ones, there aren’t.” Might as well go open a restaurant in the Antarctic, as far as Michelin was concerned. “That thought you had?”

“Oh, you’re going to like this one, honey. I thought it on your behalf, in case your brain was fried, too.” A hopeful look.

She rolled her eyes.

He grinned. “Listen to this brilliance: failing to control me doesn’t mean you’ve failed to control your kitchens, lost hard-earned respect, exposed yourself to sexual gossip from your staff, and ruined your career. Isn’t that beautiful?” Just like that she was against a wall, and he had his hands braced on either side of her head, laughing but with a heat in his eyes that curled all through her. “Like right now. If you fail to get a handle on me, your entire career doesn’t suffer for it.” He smiled down at her. Down, even though she was a tall woman and wearing heels. “Pretty fun, right?”

Well…yeah. It was almost irresistible fun. Because if she could get him out of her actual kitchens, it was true. She could tangle with his cockiness all she wanted, flex her strength against his and maybe, for once, not win, and the next day, she could stride into her kitchen and still be in charge of it. Nobody would be gossiping about her. Nobody would be thinking that since she let him roll her under him in a bed, she was under him now in her kitchens, too. She could have just, like, fun.

With that hot body, and that irrepressible cockiness, and that sense of humor. That refusal to take her seriously, that ability to turn every single damn thing she said into a joke, could have devastating effects on her authority in the kitchens. She’d dealt with enough men who tried not to take her seriously, thank you.

But here…she could just let him drive her crazy and enjoy it. Drive him crazy, too.

Hein. For only two functioning brain cells, he’d managed to come up with a halfway decent thought there.

It almost suggested that a man who could manage to turn every single thing she said back on her, and nearly get a laugh out of her every time, might be far smarter than he was currently playing.

A wisp of caution ghosted through her.

Those blue eyes laughed and challenged. Those big biceps were just a few centimeters from her head. “I’m all done here,” he murmured. “I guess you pass muster.”

“I…what?”

He made a little moue and held up a cautious hand. “You run a fairly tight ship.”

“I run a—fairly—” She should never have put down her knives.

“I guess my client will be okay in your hands,” he said. “Your food probably won’t kill him.”

She gasped. Rage turned her brain red.

“It must be fun being a woman sometimes,” Chase said.

“I—what?”

“Well, I have an almost irresistible, maddening urge to just grab you up and kiss you. And I have to control that. But if you gave in to your irresistible, maddening urge to hit me, I’d probably just enjoy it.”

He probably would, too. It made her sizzle with fury. Like nothing she could do could get through the arrogance of certain males.

“Don’t be so sure,” she said. “I fight dirty.”

He bit into his lower lip to control his grin, but it smirked out at the corners. “Me, too,” he allowed, in a deep voice that made the thought of fighting dirty just run over her whole body and heat it up.

“You’re so lucky I haven’t killed you yet,” she said, staring up into those blue eyes and that laughter and arrogance.

He fought to control the twitch of his lips. “If my luck fails, I’ll try to defend myself.”

Annoying jerk. He could probably control her just by shifting his body five centimeters and grabbing her hands. She could feel it all through him, the power, the size, the training, all held off her by his own arms. “I take it you don’t think that would be too hard?”

“Nope.” And just as she started to glare, he said with na?ve pride: “I took karate when I was a kid.”

She blinked. He pushed himself off her, giving her space. “I got to blue belt,” he bragged.

She choked. And then just thumped her head back against the wall as she started to laugh.

“Damn, it’s hard not to kiss you,” he said. “Jesus, you are driving me crazy.”

And he strode out of the walk-in and to the end of one of the lines, as if she actually was. And he considered it his full responsibility to control any urges she created in him, too.