On the Steamy Side - Louisa Edwards [26]
Instead, he’d coaxed and seduced nervous, clueless Lilah into his bed without mentioning one thing about being famous.
The incongruity of it poked and prodded at her. If her life were a play, this would be highly significant character information about the new leading man. But it’s not a play, she reminded herself. Even if Devon Sparks is more than a perfect face and a towering ego, so what? It was one night of meaningless, albeit enjoyable, sex. And now it’s over.
She couldn’t afford the distraction of trying to be nice to Devon Sparks, the man no one seemed to like. She had a new life to start, a new job to learn, and new friends to make.
And if the surface of her skin from her toes to her fingertips tingled at the thought of being that close to Devon again? She’d just have to ignore it.
As she and Grant headed for the staff locker room to don their server uniforms, she asked, “What’s the name of Devon’s show, anyway?”
Idle curiosity, she thought defensively. It didn’t mean she was interested in him as a person or anything.
Grant snorted. The arch look he sent her was clear even in the dim light of the back hallway.
“You know what he does on his show?”
Lilah shook her head.
“He goes to a different restaurant in every episode and does one dinner service there; supposed to prove he can cook any kind of food perfectly, under any conditions.”
“Sounds entertaining enough.”
Tongue firmly in cheek, Grant said, “It’s called One-Night Stand with Devon Sparks.”
Lilah’s jaw dropped. Grant grinned, and pretty soon, Lilah cracked a smile, then he snickered and she chuckled, and before she knew it, they were bent double, cackling fit to bust something.
What the heck, Lilah thought, wiping her streaming eyes.
It’s laugh or cry.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Devon felt a smile tugging at his mouth. Damn, that Lilah Jane was a sassy little piece.
“Oi, she had you sussed with one glance, didn’t she? Clever as a cat. Honestly, if it weren’t for Jess, I’d be right tempted. Adam? Have a ball in Deutschland, mate. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Frankie palmed his cigarettes and tapped one out of the pack, grinning cheekily over his shoulder as he headed for the back alley.
Devon gave the departing Brit an irritable glance. The punked-out chef had recently gotten involved with a young photography student/waiter who also happened to be Miranda’s brother.
The staff at Market evidently conducted business as if they were running a soap opera rather than a restaurant. It made his head pound to think about navigating the swamp of high emotion and illicit love affairs.
He deliberately avoided thinking about the fact that he was personally responsible for the latest daytime drama at Market. That was over and done with; they’d both expected never to see one another again. The fact that they were working together changed nothing.
There was no reason to refer to what happened last night, and lots of reasons to pretend it never happened at all.
“What just happened?” Adam looked bewildered for a second, then brightened. “Oh, hey! Never mind. You know where everything is, right? Or Frankie and Grant can show you. But you’ll be okay?”
And there went Devon’s palms again, clammy and cold. In the heat of every moment in Lilah’s presence, he’d forgotten his nauseating stress over tonight.
It had been a while—okay, years—since he ran the same kitchen night after night.
Summoning the bravado that had gotten him through countless disastrous filming sessions, Devon said, “We’ll manage to muddle through while you’re busy on your phoneymoon. Why the hell is it just a vacation again?”
“Please, like I haven’t asked Miranda to marry me a dozen times. But she says until it’s legal for Jess to marry the man he loves, she’s boycotting the whole institution.” He shrugged, one corner of his mouth curled down. “It’s freaking impossible to argue with sisterly devotion, man. I’ve stopped trying.”
“And after all my fine work getting you two paired up, too,” Devon said. When that failed to brighten Adam’s expression,