A Taste Of Desire. Chloe Blake

cellar, although possibly romantic at one time, felt more like a dungeon. Nicole was wrapped in blankets, her bare leg awkwardly stretched out onto the bench. Her tote bag was wet and crumpled in the middle of the table. She’d lost a button on her shirt, and she refused to think about what her hair was doing.

      She blew out an annoyed breath. Why was she thinking about her appearance? Destin was her client, not a prospective boyfriend. And he had a girlfriend. She recalled watching Destin and Thereza leave the restaurant, sure they were going to continue the rest of their night naked. But, still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were not together. He’d said as much at the bar, and for a split second, she had believed him. What do you care? she chided herself. Guys like him don’t have girlfriends. They had side pieces, probably all models.

      Nicole was huddled under her wool blanket when Destin came out of the alcove, three steaming bowls balanced in his arms. Delicious smells accompanied him. Her stomach howled when he placed a bowl and spoon in front of her. Magnus shot from the floor and dug in the second Destin placed the second bowl by his paws. Then Destin set his bowl down, went back to the kitchen and brought out two more plates, each holding half of a sandwich.

      He placed one by her bowl, then slid into a chair across from her and gestured at the food with his spoon. “Bon appétit.”

      She shifted on the bench and dipped her spoon into the stew. She let out a small sound of pleasure and allowed the tastes to linger in her mouth before scooping up another bite. Her lips pursed to blow a cooling breath across the hot stew, and shifting her gaze, she caught him staring.

      “This is good,” she said after several spoonfuls.

      “Yes, Lapin à la Cocotte. My grandmother’s recipe.”

      She stiffened. “Um, this is rabbit?”

      He tipped his head in answer, and she blanched. He snickered.

      “I forgot. Americans only eat chicken,” he said with a smirk.

      Her eyes narrowed. “You’re hilarious. I’ve had rabbit before. In Paris,” she said defensively, leaving out that she hadn’t finished the dish and ordered chicken. She continued eating, around the rabbit.

      She raised her spoon and stared at the little square of carrot submerged in brown broth, then let the liquid sit on her tongue again for a moment before swallowing.

      “Tell me,” he said.

      “What?”

      “The flavors.”

      She grinned, then closed her eyes in concentration. “Onion, butter, garlic, thyme, parsley, bay leaves, along with the carrot and potato, of course, bacon—although I don’t see any chunks—and a hint of red wine.”

      “You missed one.”

      Her eyes widened, and she dipped her spoon again. Then again. She stared into space, took a drink of water and sipped the broth again.

      “I can’t believe this, but I taste nothing else.”

      A smile played on his lips, and a wicked gleam jumped into his eyes.

      “Oh, you’re screwing with me. Cute. Was that to get me to eat more rabbit?”

      “I couldn’t resist. You really don’t like it?”

      “I do like it. It’s the thought of the cute fuzzy bunny that bothers me.”

      “The bunnies around here are not cute. They are wild vermin. And there is no bacon, only drippings used for flavor. Try the Bauru.”

      She took a big bite of the sandwich and let out a muffled happy squeal. Then finished it in about five seconds flat.

      Destin finished his half quickly, too, except for a small bite he threw to the dog.

      “Where in Paris did you have lapin?”

      “Café Janou.”

      “In Le Marais.”

      “Yes.” She smiled, surprised that he knew it.

      “The chocolate pudding...” His eyebrows raised in appreciation.

      “Oh, my God, yes. It’s so decadent. I feel gluttonous every time I eat it. You don’t happen to have any back there in your magic kitchen, do you?”

      “If only,” he said with longing. “Tonight would be the perfect night to be decadent.”

      She searched his face, wondering if he was purposely trying to be suggestive. Maybe it was the way he was looking at her. Intense and interested.

      He leaned in. “Do the sweets bother you?”

      She looked away. Oh, he was interested...in her super palate.

      “Only if too sweet.” She pushed her plate away and adjusted her foot on the bench. “Thank you for lunch. I suppose I was lucky you were here. I’d probably be soaking wet and still looking for my car.”

      Destin took a sip of water and looked at her for a long moment. “Tell me more about what you do, Nicole.” She liked his accent and how he said her name. Neecole.

      “I help sell dreams.” She smiled at his confused look. “Business and investment properties are my specialty. Developers, corporations and celebrities all want a property that will increase in value quickly, or won’t lose value in a down market. This property, for instance, needs work, but the acreage, seclusion and ocean proximity make it very attractive. Property like this doesn’t lose value.”