Page 59 of The Chef and the Countess

“You said you were going to hire more people anyway. You can also train someone to fry the thin potato pieces safely and properly. Less waste, too. I imagine they would take a minute or two to cook. Here is a thought: make the fish and chip dish part of the pub’s offerings. Not every night, but occasionally. Or not.”

“I welcome your interest in the business. But fish and chips should not be part of my menu, at least for now. I like the idea of the shavings, though.”

“You know best.” Celia turned to return to her seat, but Liam grasped her hand and brought her toward him so swiftly that she lost her balance and wound up on his lap.

“I like you sitting right here,” he whispered as he nuzzled her neck. “Why are you so concerned about my restaurant?”

Celia leaned back and stared at him. “Because it is part of you. Because I have watched you preparing meals and can plainly see how much you love it. Never have I seen you more alive than when cooking food.”

Liam wrapped a loose tendril of her hair around his finger. Celia’s hair always came loose when working in the kitchen. He gently pushed it behind her ear, then caressed her cheek tenderly. “Never have I felt more alive than now, with you close like this.”

Celia’s heart swelled. “I must admit I feel the same. Also, regarding the business.”

“You like working in the restaurant?” Liam asked incredulously. “Truly?”

“Yes, Chef.”

Liam chuckled. “Put your arms around me.”

Celia did, never breaking contact with his intense and sultry look.

“Now, kiss me.”

Celia blinked. “Kiss you? Here?”

“Yes, in this room.” He placed the tip of his finger against his lips. “Right here.”

“Someone could walk in,” Celia said worriedly as she glanced about.

“That, love, makes it more exciting.”

Liam was correct. A thrill of exhilaration skittered along her spine. Celia cupped his face, studying every aspect, every sharp cut of cheekbone to the dark whiskers already showing through. “You have such beautiful eyes.” She tenderly kissed that enticing mole at the corner of his right eye. “So clear and blue, like a summer or winter sky, depending on your mood.” Celia trailed kisses along his whiskered chin, teasing him. Then, she captured his lips, kissing him ardently. She tangled her fingers through his thick, wavy hair, so silky and longer than most men wore. It suited him.

Liam responded with something like a cross between a moan and a growl. Their tongues clashed as he trailed his hand over her hip, grabbing a fistful of her wool skirt, lifting far enough that he could caress her leg. As their kiss deepened, his hand traveled higher until he reached her upper thigh. She could feel his erection under her. That was exciting, too.

Celia moaned and instinctively spread her legs. The feel of his hand against her bare skin made her grow wet at her feminine core. “Touch me,” she urged between the passionate kisses. His fingers reached her drawers when the door flew open and banged against the wall.

“Liam! Oh, bloody hell. Excuse me.”

Celia sprang from Liam’s lap, blushing furiously as she smoothed her skirt.

It was Fiona, and she looked worried. “Liam, a fight broke out in the pub. The blokes have knives.”