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I looked back at our nice kitchen. What were the chances that it was stocked?
“I’ll go see what we have here.” I got up and headed to the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Well. They were nice enough to stock us with bottles of water, but that’s about it.”
“So what do we do?”
“Look,” I said as I closed the refrigerator door. “You stay here, sit tight and relax. I’m going to go back down that cafeteria kitchen and see what I can’t bring back here.”
“Really?” she said, happy with the suggestion. “You’d do that?”
“Just watch me.” I winked at her and turned to leave.
Eager to please her and lighten her mood, I headed back to the cafeteria hoping to run into Amanda. But I opened the door to find an empty lunchroom.
Disappointed, I headed to the kitchen at the back. “Hello,” I called out softly. “Is anyone here?”
With no answer, I entered the kitchen and found the fridge. While there was plenty of chicken, beef and seafood, I wanted something quick and easy. I grabbed a few eggs from a carton, a nice wedge of a sharp cheddar and got to work.
I dropped a dollop of rich creamy butter into a frying pan and looked around as I waited for it to melt. It was easy to imagine myself working in that kitchen in the days to come. Given enough time, I could whip up some real great dishes and wow the students with my culinary instinct.
But for now, I cracked a few eggs into the butter and heated them up. I also added a few fragrant herbs. It already smelled delicious.
“You’re still here.”
Though I’d only met him for the first time that very morning, I already recognized that deep throaty voice of his. The hairs at the back of my neck pricked up and I could have sworn that my skin sizzled.
“What’s it going to take to get rid of you?”
I smiled. “A degree and a recommendation letter to a three Michelin star restaurant.”
“Fat chance of that happening. We don’t give out degrees to greasy spoon cooks.”
I turned to glance back at him. Damn, he looked good. He, too, was fresh out of a shower. His dark hair looked even darker as the damp curls clung to the nape of his neck. His thin cotton t-shirt, cut up here and there in a fashionable bad boy manner, showed off his muscular build. It was almost impossible and should undoubtably be illegal to look so good. His black jeans were tight, but not too tight.
“You’d be surprised,” I said, meeting his gaze.
I caught the dip of that gaze as it dropped into the neckline of my top. My breasts instantly tingled under the hunger of his gaze.
Shit... my nipples actually perked up, just from him looking at me. I could just imagine what his touch could accomplish.
“And what are you whipping up, Chef Hick? Scrambled eggs and bologna?”
Pulling out my sexiest smile, I stirred the eggs in the pan. “It takes a very intuitive talent to make perfectly scrambled eggs. Just the right amount of salt and pepper, a few little cubes of a real good cheese and...”
“Please,” he said, holding his hand up to silence me. “Spare me your country kitchen tricks and tips.”
“Hmph,” I let out as I brought my attention back to my eggs.
“If you were as smart as you claim to be, you’d leave,” he said.
“Why should I?” I said without looking at him. “I have every right to be here. My good cooking won me a scholarship, remember?”
“To hell with your scholarship. I have every right to make your life here a living hell,” he said, his voice oddly husky and strained.
I suddenly became aware of my tight and very short gym shorts. Playing the game, I shifted my weight to one leg, jutting my hips up to one side in a provocative manner.
I heard the tortured groan that escaped his lips.
“And where were you going all dolled up?” he said with a grunt. “The gym?”
