Can't Stand the Heat - Louisa Edwards [46]
Jess was fully aware that this was getting out of hand. He was stupidly close to losing his head over Frankie.
Okay. Recognize it and get over it, because no good could possibly come of following through with whatever this was. Miranda would be hurt, Jess would lose his job and all his new friends, and what would he have gained? Only the knowledge that he’d learned absolutely nothing from all the shit that went down at Brandewine. And he couldn’t bear for that to be true.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, Jess hauled his ass out of bed and into the shower, determined to get a handle on his hormones.
Following Adam out of his office and up the stairs was like trying to keep up with a bike messenger in rush-hour traffic. Miranda cursed herself for wearing heels yet again, and actually considered slipping out of them.
But barefoot in a restaurant? That had to be a health violation. And anyway, how much farther could he be running?
Adam glanced over his shoulder and made an impatient noise when he saw Miranda straggling, and to her surprise, he reached back and grabbed hold of her hand, hauling her up.
It should’ve hurt, being manhandled like that, but somehow Adam’s hand, hard and callused as it was from years of holding a knife, was nothing more than gently implacable. His dark eyes gleamed down at her in the dim hallway, and when he smiled, his even teeth were white against the darkness.
“Come on, sweets,” he said, all gruff and excited. “Keep up. You’re gonna learn to cook! I’m telling you, it’s the best thing in the world.”
Infected by the sheer incandescent joy on his face, Miranda couldn’t help smiling back. She’d spent all night and morning worrying about getting screamed at and banished from the kitchen, only to be confronted by Adam in full-on boyish charm mode instead. The reversal of fortunes, added to this insanely good-looking and charismatic man’s nearness in the enclosed space of the back hallway, was making her a touch giddy to start with. And when he turned that lethal enthusiasm on her?
Her normal cool reserve didn’t stand a chance.
So she found herself smiling up at him, at the warm, solid length of him pressed close to her side, and before she knew what was happening, he laughed out loud and dipped his head to brush their mouths together.
She felt the soft, supple pressure of his full bottom lip moving against hers, the seeking tilt of his head, and they both froze. He seemed as startled as she was by the contact.
The air around them crystallized with tension for one heartbeat, two, then with a muffled groan, he slanted his mouth down over hers. It was hot and deep and wet, zero to sexy in no time flat, and all Miranda could do was cling to Adam’s strong hand. It was the only place they were really touching, other than their lips, and the point of contact steadied Miranda against the rush of sensation when he licked into her and rubbed the velvety nap of his tongue across the sensitive roof of her mouth.
The kiss was a jolt of pure electricity down her spine.
When Adam drew back, running that dangerous tongue over his bottom lip as if seeking to catch the last of her flavor, Miranda knew her eyes were as round as saucers. Her heart was jackhammering away and she felt stunned. Like he’d kissed her stupid.
Adam stared down at her for a long beat before saying, “I’ve been wanting to do that for days. You’ve got a mouth that was made for kissing. Did you know that?”
“I—I . . .” Damn it, brain, kick in! “I can’t believe you just did that.”
Smooth.
“Why not?” Adam cocked his head. “It was fun. It felt good.”
Miranda fluttered like a startled pigeon. Adam still had a firm grip on her right hand, so she was forced to use her left to gesticulate wildly. “You can’t just go around kissing people because you feel like it! My God, where do you come from?”
“The West Village,” he said,