The second Beau sank his teeth into the crunchy coating, he knew he’d lost the bet he’d made with Gigi. The flavor exploded in his mouth and he groaned. “Damn, girl, that’s some good chicken.”

“Thanks. It’s way healthier than fried, but still tastes like the South. Plus, it’s got a nice subtle heat that sneaks up on you at the end.”

Funny, he’d just been thinking exactly the same thing about her. She still wore his shirt and he marveled at how different it made her look. It was long on her, mid-thigh, but clung to her full, round breasts in the sexiest way.

Originally, he’d thought her frumpy, but now he wondered if it was just the clothes. Maybe he’d mistaken modesty for frumpery, or maybe she just didn’t know how to dress her curves. Whatever the reason, with just the minor adjustment in wardrobe, he’d become acutely aware that this pistol was definitely loaded.

He realized he was staring and tore his gaze away to pour them both a refill of sweet tea. She still hadn’t taken a bite of her food and seemed to be waiting expectantly. He realized she wanted him to keep eating, to try everything before she ate. He was happy to oblige as he forked down a mouthful of sweet creamy corn. He gave her a thumbs-up as he chewed and she clapped her hands, delighted by his approval.

“I knew you’d like it.”

“Who wouldn’t like it? You’re an amazing cook.”

He flicked out his tongue to capture a stray crumb off his thumb, then sucked the tip into his mouth.

Gigi’s wide eyes were locked on him and he could have sworn the pulse in her neck leapt.

Well hot damn.

“You were right, girl. You got me licking my fingers. So I guess that means I don’t get to have what I want tomorrow night, huh?”

He pinned her with his gaze and let the question sit without backing down from the innuendo or breaking the tension with a joke. In the short time they’d spent together, his initial curiosity about her had morphed into want. Not that knee-jerk, thoughtless want where basic needs met a warm, willing body and made for instant but fleeting chemistry. More like that low pull inside, the taffy-like thread that kept his thoughts tethered to her whether she was right in front of him or not. The kind of want that had him wondering how soft the skin on her nape was, or if he gripped her round hips real tight while he slid his cock deep if he would bruise the soft, white skin.

It had been a very long time since he’d been that compelled by a woman. In fact, he was hard-pressed to recall the last time. Might as well test the waters. Quinn would probably be pissed at him for hitting on her chef, but too bad. He’d just have to do it before she got there.

Gigi still hadn’t answered his loaded question, despite her mouth opening and closing a few times. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’ll still make you something. What would you like?”

Her voice had gone reedy and she looked almost panicked. That was good. She was definitely aware of him, and was starting to get that maybe he wasn’t just teasing her. Her reaction was frigging adorable and he bit back a smile. Maybe take it a little slower, though, so as not to scare her off. There was no rush. He had two weeks. Two weeks to convince Gigi to sleep with him.

Or one day to convince her and thirteen days to have her over and over again. His cock twitched in a tacit vote for option B.

He set down his knife and fork and stood, moving slowly around the table. He held out a hand and she slipped hers into it. As he drew her up, she gasped as their bodies brushed.

“I’d like to kiss the cook. Is that okay, Gigi?” he asked as he tipped his head a fraction closer to hers.

Her huge gray eyes stormed up at him as she lifted a trembling hand to her neck. “I’ve never been kissed,” she blurted, then slapped a palm over her mouth.

His brain went dead for a moment as her words sank in like the steely claws of a hammer. “Wait, what?”

She just shook her head, eyes wide with mortification.

He struggled for something to say as the blood rushed back to his head and his two-week plan curled up and died. “It’s, uh, perfectly…normal. I guess…ah fuck.”

“You don’t have to lie,” she said, sinking back into her chair. She slumped forward and stared at the untouched plate in front of her. “I know I’m a total freak.”

She looked so miserable, he put aside his disappointment and scrambled for something to say that might make her feel better.

“Hey, at least you’re not sleeping with every guy in town. You’re looking for that special someone and that’s admirable. I’m sure there are plenty of people your age—”

“Stop. I know there aren’t, I’m not an idiot. I watch Sex and the City. And for your information, it’s not that I’m, like, waiting for marriage or anything. I never set out to save it for true love. I just haven’t had time.”

Okay, now that was weird. “It doesn’t take all that much time to kiss someone, Gigi.”

“I mean all of it. Kissing, petting, having sex. Not even just the acts themselves, but the time to waste daydreaming about some boy or falling in and out of puppy love. No time for drama. No time for anything, really.”

“Why not?”

“I had to work. My dad died when I was thirteen. My mom had the three of us kids to care for and not enough money to do it. I was the oldest.”

It was the tone that hit him, right in the gut. Matter-of-fact, not bitter or resentful or even sad. Just the way things were. Her face was a mask of indifference, but Beau knew the pain had to be right below the surface. “I’m so sorry, Gigi.”

She gave him a polite but distant half-smile. “Anyway, I went to work as a bus girl getting paid under the table at night and going to school during the day. I’d get home around midnight, do homework, sleep for a few hours then do it all again the next day. That was life for the next five years until I graduated high school. It was straight from that to business school then to culinary school and more of the same, although bartending paid better than bussing tables, thank God.”

“No dances, no football games, no concerts?” His heart gave a hard knock for her as he thought back to the fun he’d had growing up.

“I was too worried about the electricity getting shut off for any of that to matter much. Then, once we got out of the weeds a little, my goal was to make sure I was never in that situation again.” She shrugged. “So I worked. Hard.

“I never meant to let it go this far. It was like one day I woke up a twenty-three- year-old virgin.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m going to have to explain it all to the first guy I’m with, so I know it makes that potential conversation more awkward the longer I let it go.”

She met his gaze then and tipped her chin up. “But I did what I had to, and I’d do it again.”

He stared back at her in amazement and his desire for her came back with a vengeance. In fact, if he’d found her attractive before, she’d jumped the fence to thoroughly irresistible now. The discipline and focus it must have taken her at such a young age to accomplish what she had floored him. He’d liked her the second he laid eyes on her. He’d wanted her when he saw her in his t-shirt. Now that he’d listened to her talk, he respected her. That was a hell of a lot of feelings about a woman he’d only met a week before. And still, those feelings settled deep in his bones as he realized she was exactly the type of woman his mother had always wanted for him. A woman of worth.

Terrifying. Yet…

Again, he drew her up to stand before him. “What are you doing?”

“Well, Ms. Somerville, if you’d do me the honor, I’d like to be on the receiving end of your first kiss.”

Gigi swallowed so loudly, the sound echoed through the room. “You don’t have to d—”

“Believe me, girl, this isn’t a favor. There is nothing I’d rather do at this moment.

Besides, it’s just a kiss. What harm could it do?”

Her gaze locked onto his lips and she nodded. “Okay then.”

His heart clunked, heavy in his chest at her answer. He didn’t dwell long on the fact that this moment, the lead up to a simple kiss, was more exciting than any groupie sex or threesome he’d ever had. Instead, he settled one hand on Gigi’s full hip and curled the other around the side of her neck, his fingers caressing her silky nape. The breath caught in her throat and the sound sent his senses reeling.

She raised her face to his, her pupils dilating, her eyes growing wide enough to drown in. Swaying forward, she pressed into him until her soft, round breasts were flush against his chest. And just like that, all chivalrous thoughts of a gentle introduction into the art of kissing fled as a bolt of hot need blasted through him, setting his nerve endings on fire.

A low growl escaped him as he slanted his mouth over hers, intent on nothing less than total possession.

Please don’t let me wake up.

That was her last coherent thought as Beau pressed his mouth to hers. His kiss was pure sin, hot, demanding. Her lips parted and his tongue slipped between them, tasting the tender inside of her bottom lip. A quiver swept through her as his fingers tightened on her hip, urging her closer. Desperate to oblige him, she arched forward, moaning into his mouth as his hard cock nudged her soft stomach.

Her hands crept up to circle his waist and lock them tighter together. He groaned his approval deep in his throat, then nipped her lower lip sharply with his teeth. She gasped and he pulled back.

“I’m so sor—”

“No, no, I like it. Don’t stop.” She rose to her tiptoes and smashed her mouth against his, kissing him with all her might.

The hand that had been massaging the back of her neck slipped into her hair, knocking the clip to the floor. She thrust her tongue mindlessly against his, wishing she could be closer, wishing she could touch his skin.

His breathing was harsh in her ears, and the rise and fall of his chest against her breasts was slowly driving her mad. Her nipples strained against her bra, poking through the thin cotton separating them. God, she wanted his hands on her so badly. Almost as if she’d said it out loud, he released the iron grip on her hip and trailed his fingers upward. Over her side, then her rib cage, before tracing lightly over her breast.

She froze, breath suspended as he paused. Cupping her fullness, he ran a thumb over the throbbing nipple and she jerked forward as the touch blazed a path from her breast to her pussy. Moisture flooded between her thighs and she swallowed a cry.

Her heart was like a drum, pounding out a primal beat. A saxophone blared in time. She stilled. What—?

Beau dragged his mouth from hers. “Your pocket. It’s coming from your pocket.” His voice was low and thick with need.

She swallowed and stepped back, letting her hands fall away from his waist as she recognized the sound. Her ring tone.

“I’ve got to get it,” she mumbled and turned away. She jammed a shaking hand into her pocket and yanked out the phone. Peering at the screen, she grimaced as the number flashed. Quinn.

She cleared her throat, ran a hand through her hair and said a little prayer of thanks it wasn’t Skype. “Hey, Quinn.”

“Hey, Gigi. I tried to call Beau but he didn’t pick up. What time will you guys be here tomorrow?”

She turned to face Beau and her knees nearly buckled. His face was tense with want, the evidence of his need straining the zipper of his jeans. She pinched her eyes closed. “What time are we getting them tomorrow?”

“We’re going to give Randy a few hours to sleep before he has to get back behind the wheel, but we’ll be back on the road by four. Tell her we should be in the city by nine at the latest.”

She relayed the information to Quinn then disconnected.

Beau walked around the table and sat back in his chair without a word. He picked up his fork and started to eat, and after a minute, she joined him.

Might as well get it over with. She met his gaze and resisted the urge to look away. “I’m sorry, Beau. That was totally unprofessional. It won’t happen again.”

“Don’t get all weird on me, Gigi. It was just a kiss.” Although the lines of his face were still harsh, his tone was casual. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to molest you or anything.”

More’s the pity, she thought, but responded instead with a curt nod.

As much as she wanted it to be otherwise, it couldn’t happen. She needed Hank Lemon and the Law to recommend her to everyone they knew. Her business depended on it. Fooling around with one of the band members was a recipe for disaster. Quinn would likely fire her on the spot, and Gigi wouldn’t blame her one bit.

She forked up a mouthful of corn and chewed slowly. Time to reassess. Business first, pleasure…well, never, she thought bitterly. At least not with Beau Trudeau. Tomorrow they’d meet up with the rest of the band and this forced intimacy would be a thing of the past. The groupies would be out in full force and Beau would probably forget he’d ever been attracted to her, which was exactly how she wanted it.

Wasn’t it?