Stirring Up Trouble(30)
She frowned. “We did have sex.”
The frying pan hissed and smoked as Braden turned away and added the meat, tomato and onion to the oil. “Not according to President Clinton, and you have to admit, the man is a genius.”
Ah, the old oral sex isn’t sex argument. Such a man.
The smell of garlic reached her nose, making her mouth water. “Clinton may be a genius, but he’s also a man. Men—and women—will say anything to escape responsibility.”
He handed her a wooden spoon, pointing at the meat sauce. He added olive oil to another pan and tossed the eggplant in. “I’ve missed this.”
“This?” she asked, stirring and inhaling. Delicious.
He leaned back against the counter and smiled. “Our fights. Our foreplay.”
She’d never thought of their fighting as foreplay, but in a way, she could see it. Their quick as ping pong banter got her blood pumping, exciting her mind as well as her other parts. “We can’t do it.” She added a small bowl of spices to the sauce.
“Why? Because of Jon?” he ground out as if the name offended his sensibilities.
She decided Braden deserved the truth. “Jon and I are just friends.”
He didn’t reply and she couldn’t tell if he believed her. He fried the eggplants, pushing the pieces around in the pan. For a few minutes, they worked in silence. After he took the pan off the flame, he suddenly turned to her. “Talk to me, my Mousa.”
Her pulse roared and the room tilted. “What did you say?”
He gave her a look that scorched her from the inside out. “I dream of you at night, do you know that? The last four nights. Now that I’ve tasted your lips, your skin, your pussy, I want more. I thought it would be enough and I’d get you out of my system, but I was wrong. I admit it. I don’t want to screw this up and have it be just about sex, because it’s not. You’re my friend and my best friend’s fiancé’s sister. I can’t make promises, but I want to see where this leads.”
His words sent her heart racing again. Just because they dreamed of each other didn’t mean she was his Muse. She didn’t like the idea of fate taking the decisions from her hands.
She sighed. “I have dreams about you, too. But if we do this, we’re not only risking our friendship, but our family. I can’t mess up anything for Ryan and Portia. I mean, if this goes south, can you imagine us at their wedding, you the best man and me the maid of honor? It has ‘Disaster’ written all over it. I’m not trying to be fickle or play games with you. I know I said no sex and then I let you kiss me.”
“I did more than kiss you,” he said, leaning closer.
She twisted away and focused on the sauce, stirring it. “I don’t regret it. But it can’t happen again.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Why don’t you tell me the real reason you don’t want to have sex?”
“I just did.”
“No. You gave convenient excuses. The truth is you’re afraid.”
She threw the spoon on the counter and clenched her fists. “Me? Afraid? I’m not afraid of anything. You’re just ticked because a woman finally said no to you and you can’t stand it. You always have to be in control. You won’t even hire anyone to help run the restaurant. And now you’re faced with a woman with her own mind who won’t flip up her skirt every time you give her one of your billion dollar smiles. You think if you can control me, you can convince me to give you the restaurant. I’m sorry to break it to you, but a few orgasms won’t change my mind.”
A red-faced Christopher paused halfway into the kitchen. “Whoops, sorry. I’ll come back.” The doors swung closed.
She ignored the interruption, too angry to care that the head chef had just heard her confirm a sexual relationship with the owner of the restaurant.
Braden glared coldly at her. “Maybe I do have control issues, but with good reason. You might pass the health inspector and IRS’s audits, but you’ll never pass the food critic’s. Memorizing the ingredients won’t be enough. And we wouldn’t want to forget the songs for the music producer.”
“Oh?”
“Your band’s comprised of a bunch of pimply potheads who wouldn’t know how to write a song to save their life. You can do so much better. I don’t know why you waste time with them.”
She took a deep breath and exhaled before speaking in order to keep herself from shouting. “I move every few months. When I get a chance to join a band, I take it. Yeah, I know these guys don’t have a shot at getting a record deal. They know it, too. But every night I get to go up there on that stage and sing to an audience. And get paid for it! You’re so arrogant you think that your college education and fancy words will get me a record deal.”