He felt like one of those men on the moon—if he wasn’t careful, he’d bounce himself into space. Au-dessus must be busy—what was it, eight p.m.?—because scents and sounds filled the kitchen, heady and clashing and warm. Color splashed across plates in ardent drama. There was motion everywhere and Vi was in full swing, precise and graceful like a whip cracking, pivoting between one station and another, checking food, confirming orders were coming up, calling for waiters. Aww, look at her in her white coat and with her hair piled up on the back of her head and her skin glowing with perspiration, making everybody do what she wanted. She moved as if this whole kitchen was her orchestra, only they didn’t line up in front of her where she could see them, they were all around her, and her whole body was the conductor’s wand, jabbing, dancing, lifting, guiding, making sure everyone’s note came in at just the right moment, just the right way. Hell, she was hot. As soon as he saw her, all that energy in him figured out exactly what it wanted to do with itself.
What do You think about Chase Me (Paris Nights Book 2)?
