Книга - Turn Me On

Turn Me On
Dylan Rose


He has an appetite for her And he'll savour every delicious taste… Food journalist Faye Curry has lost her appetite for food, relationships, and even sex. Then she's sent to London to interview sexy celebrity chef Gregor Wright. That lean body, those glacier-blue eyes… mmmm. Sleeping with him is strictly forbidden – and yet she can't resist being deliciously devoured by him. And worse, Faye's starting to long for the one thing not on the menu – Gregor's heart.







She’s determined to maintain her journalistic principles…until a tantalizingly sexy food celebrity shows her just what it takes to be thoroughly satisfied. Author Dylan Rose returns with a hot and irresistibly spicy dish!

A year after having her heart unceremoniously ripped out, food journalist Faye Curry still has no appetite. Not for food, not for relationships and definitely not for sex. Instead, Faye has embraced the joy of celibacy and peanut-butter-and-banana sandwiches. That is, until she’s sent to London to interview sexy celebrity chef Gregor Wright…who’s used to satisfying every appetite imaginable.

That lean body, those glacier-blue eyes and those oh-so-gifted hands…mmm. But Faye is a professional. Sleeping with her interview subject is strictly forbidden. So exactly how is it that she’s ended up—on the first night—being deliciously devoured by Gregor?

Now Gregor has ignited Faye’s appetite for everything: heat, sweetness, food and life. And in the process, Faye is breaking every rule of her profession. Business has turned exquisitely personal, and under Gregor’s lust-fueled gaze, Faye feels sexy and powerful for the first time in her life.

Only a new craving has begun, insistent and hungry. No matter how forbidden, Faye longs for the one thing not on the menu: Gregor’s heart.

Harlequin DARE publishes sexy romances featuring powerful alpha heroes and bold, fearless heroines exploring their deepest fantasies.

Four new Harlequin DARE titles are available each month, wherever ebooks are sold!


DYLAN ROSE is a writer from New York City who is obsessed with watching romantic comedies, taking hot baths on cold nights and finding the perfect red lipstick. Her debut novel for Harlequin DARE is Take Me On. Follow her adventures on Instagram, @DylanRoseRomance (https://www.instagram.com/DylanRoseRomance).


Turn Me On

Dylan Rose






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-08723-0

TURN ME ON

© 2019 Dylan Rose

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




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Contents

Cover (#uaaffa556-f762-5fcd-8b43-b5328a9f9575)

Back Cover Text (#u970c6e49-e27e-5f70-9de5-2b8cdabfe377)

About the Author (#ue68ff38d-f858-5fa9-8297-fa1cf4b62222)

Title Page (#ud3002b1b-a72b-569d-8fee-f13d62473ad0)

Copyright (#u2fc45795-34cf-590b-a81f-26c79fd93255)

Note to Readers

CHAPTER ONE (#u1e433020-0b73-5348-ab62-9ea3a66993fe)

CHAPTER TWO (#ua8d89dd0-b086-5a0d-b1f5-f3a101e41d21)

CHAPTER THREE (#u9b7512b6-9dc5-57ca-9676-8e40563fae2a)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)




CHAPTER ONE (#uf3463212-fa55-56ad-8242-7bb0c330b04e)


IT SEEMED LIKE just another ordinary workday, but Faye would soon learn that there was a life-changing surprise in store for her. It was one o’clock on a Thursday and she was just about to close out of the document she was working on and head down for lunch. Her desk was in an open-plan maze of cubicles, with fluorescent overhead lighting and the constant buzz of her coworkers’ chitchat. Every day at this time she made a point of leaving her editing work behind and taking the elevators down to the sprawling cafeteria in the building with its coffee bar, hot entrées and salad station. She had been working at Amuse Bouche for nearly ten years. It was her first job out of graduate school and over the time she’d been there, the magazine had become one of the world’s most preeminent food and wine publications.

That’s not to say she considered herself any kind of food expert. There had been a time when her palate had been more adventurous—when she couldn’t imagine a better plan for a Sunday then to take the subway into the outer boroughs in search of the spiciest Indian food or the most delicious Thai noodles. But ever since things had ended with David, she had left all that behind in favor of bland foods: peanut butter and banana sandwiches were her new go-to. What was the point in making an elaborate meal when it was just her dining alone? Plus, she hated that now everyone who took a picture of their sandwich considered themselves a “foodie.”

Faye pulled on her sweater, let the screensaver take over and grabbed her purse to head downstairs. She wasn’t going so much for the food—although the selections were incredible—so much as she was just to take a walk and get a change of scenery. She’d lost almost twenty pounds since the breakup. And even though her skinny jeans were now her loose ones and stuff relegated to the back of the closet now fit, and she got second glances from men as she walked to work up Sixth Avenue, she was basically indifferent to the attention. And while part of her did imagine bumping into David and seeing him seeing her looking incredible, mostly she just felt so sad about the whole thing, even though it had been almost a year now since that fateful day.

Just as Faye turned to leave, she heard the familiar chirp of her desk phone. She knew it could only be one of two people: her boss or her mother. They were pretty much the only people who ever dialed her work number. All of her friends and contemporaries just texted. Faye preferred it because it was easier to delay responding. Calls were so immediate, and you had to actually talk to the person, which she was constantly trying to avoid. She knew if it was her mom, she would have to answer a series of questions that were all too familiar: Who was she seeing? Anyone worth a second date? What did she have lined up for the weekend? She hated the fact that she had instilled a grain of hope in her mom by telling her she was on Match, Tinder, Bumble and Plenty of Fish. The truth was, the only apps she had on her phone were her fitness tracker and an annoyingly addictive game where you pushed blocks around a grid. That was the extent of her dating life.

A quick glance revealed the name Beverly Rice flashing on the screen and Faye picked up the receiver, glad to delay the parent talk.

“Hi, Bev,” Faye answered, greeting her boss by her preferred nickname. Bev was the editor in chief of Amuse Bouche and a legend in the New York publishing industry, known as much for her food and wine expertise as her iconic horn-rimmed glasses. Faye had started out as her assistant, and very quickly Bev had shepherded her into writing for the magazine. Now she considered Bev her mentor, and often stayed late nights to help her, long after the other staff members had gone on to happy hour when an issue was closing.

“Faye, can you come see me in my office?”

“Of course.” Faye hung up the phone and smiled. Her door was adjacent to Bev’s, within earshot, but Bev liked to keep things formal.

Taking her bag with her just in case there would still be time for lunch, Faye rounded the corner past the cloth-covered walls of the cubicles and found the door to her boss’s office ajar. Knocking lightly, she made eye contact with Bev, who stood up from her desk chair and waved Faye inside.

“Everything okay?” Faye asked, taking a seat in one of the two chairs facing Bev’s desk. The room was tastefully decorated in muted neutral tones and covers from the magazine’s bestselling issues adorned the walls. When Faye looked just past her boss’s head, she could see the sun streaming across the midtown skyscrapers that surrounded them.

“Oh, yes,” Bev said, sitting down and leaning across her desk. She was about twenty years Faye’s senior, in her early fifties, with professionally blown-out long brown hair and hard-earned physique which she attributed to good genes and Pilates. “I have an exciting assignment for you.”

Faye instinctively perked up and sat up a little straighter in her chair. Her first thought was the rumored opening of a new restaurant by a Top Chef contestant. For that, she would definitely forgo a night of peanut butter sandwiches.

“I have two words for you,” her bespectacled boss said enticingly. “Gregor Wright.”

Faye watched as Bev sat back in her chair and waited for her reaction. Of course she knew Gregor Wright. He was famous. In fact, she and David had spent many nights watching his cable show, Globe-Trotting with Gregor, where he visited different travel destinations, eating and drinking his way through under-the-radar hotspots. And although she never said it in front of David, Faye had a major crush on the tall and slender Gregor, always in his signature leather bomber jacket. The combination of his British accent and the facial hair that she could so easily imagine grazing against her lady parts was enough fodder for many a solo session with the handheld showerhead in her steamy bathroom.

“Yes, I know him,” Faye said with a nervous cough.

Bev sighed. “I know you know him. How would you like to meet him?”

“No!” Faye said adamantly and then quickly changed to a more measured tone. “I mean, it sounds interesting…” She saw Bev raise an eyebrow at her from behind her glasses, but she didn’t care. The last thing she needed was to spend an afternoon interviewing a womanizer. An arrogant, sexy, intelligent famous person who could probably get most women to drop their panties by simply uttering their name in that crisp English voice of his.

“None of the other magazines have it,” Bev said. “This could be major for you.”

Faye twisted her long, platinum blond hair over her shoulder and smiled nervously at her boss. “I appreciate that, really, I do.”

“I need you for this, Faye,” Bev said insistently. “You’re my best writer. And I know it’s not my place to say, but maybe traveling for a few days would do you good.”

Faye opened her mouth to protest her boss’s gentle suggestion but instead her mouth hung agape. She wasn’t quite sure what to say. Of course, the assignment was incredible. And she did deserve it. But she had heard the rumors about the women who encountered Gregor. It wasn’t so much that he was persistent, but more that women were drawn to his aura. Getting caught up in a fantasy was just something she didn’t need right now.

“Did you say days—as in, multiple days?”

Bev returned Faye’s nonplussed expression with a knowing smirk. “A week, actually. In London.”

Faye exhaled deeply and turned her gaze toward the windows. The sun was shining bright for what felt like the first time in weeks. It had been a long, cold New York City winter and today, for the first time, people were walking around without jackets. Spring was in the air.

But where was she? Still in emotional limbo over a guy who was long gone. And punishing herself with her bland diet and her austere lifestyle. Even her outfit was joyless. She looked down at her black trousers and pilled sweater and could just hear her mother saying how she was “hiding her beauty.” But what if she wasn’t ready for anyone to see it again? Maybe she would never be ready.

“What about Lindsay?”

Bev snorted.

“She’s a good writer!”

“She’s fine. But I don’t want someone ‘fine,’ I want you.” Bev reached into her desk and produced a file folder which she tossed across the desk to Faye. “Everything you need to know is in there. Your flight leaves out of JFK first thing tomorrow morning.”






Later that night in her apartment, Faye sat on the living room couch. Even though she had kept almost everything when David had moved out, the place still felt weirdly empty without him there. There were some things she liked about living alone—for one, she could watch any of her “girlie” shows without snark or criticism. And now things were decorated the way she preferred—before she hadn’t been able to display all of the framed pictures of her many travels with her girlfriends after college. Come to think of it, she hadn’t traveled much in recent years as David was more of a homebody. Maybe the adventure would be a good thing, she told herself.

Her suitcase, which she had gotten out of storage in her building’s basement after work, was in the middle of the room and she had multiple items of clothing piled on the bed. Faye stared off into space, lost in a reverie featuring Gregor from the episode of his show where he went stand-up paddle boarding in Turks and Caicos. She easily remembered how his lean, tanned body looked against the vibrant blue waters. He had worn a bike-shorts-length Speedo, but instead of looking ridiculous, as most men did in that skintight suit, he managed to pull it off and give his female viewership something very substantial to occupy their thoughts after the episode ended.

Angry at herself for letting her thoughts get away from her, she picked up the phone and called her sister, Eden, who was always her “in case of emergency” person.

“Hey,” Eden answered right away, her voice sounding a little harried and tired, as per usual. She was three years older than Faye, and a married mom of three. Right now, she was probably in the middle of serving dinner to her army of boys.

“What do we think about Gregor Wright?” Faye asked her sister tentatively. Ever since they were kids, Eden was the barometer of cool for Faye. If she said anything negative, the trip would be off.

“Ooh, the hot guy from the Travel Channel?”

“Yeah. That’s him,” Faye said, with a slight tinge of disappointment in her voice. So there really was no getting off the hook for this.

“Are you interviewing him?” Eden asked enthusiastically. “Make sure to take a selfie. And do other things I would say if there were not children present,” she added deviously.

“I’m flying out tomorrow to interview him at his home in London,” Faye said. Saying it out loud for the first time that day suddenly made the trip seem all too real. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know. In case I was in a plane crash or something.”

“Geez. Positive outlook, sis.”

“I know. I just worry…”

“About being alone with a sexy-as-hell famous man who’s used to getting anything he wants?”

“Pretty much.”

“Listen,” Eden said, her voice sounding more serious. “You’ve suffered enough. You deserve to let yourself have a little fun.”

“I know,” Faye whispered, the events of the night it had all gone so very wrong flooding back to her. She swallowed hard, refusing to renege on the promise she’d made herself to not cry about this again.

Sensing her sister’s mood, Eden switched to a perkier tone. “Well, make sure to take lots of pictures. Oh, and bring me back a souvenir.”

“Like what?” Faye asked incredulously. Sometimes her big sister acted like she was five.

“You’ll think of something.”

Faye hung up the call with a smile forming on her lips. She looked at the picture of her and Eden on her refrigerator standing in a London phone booth on a family trip there as teenagers. Surrounding it was further evidence of the fact that she was a die-hard anglophile—a Beatles postcard, a magnet from Harrods and another one featuring a Union Jack.

There was no denying it—London, and Gregor Wright, were calling.






After a fitful night’s sleep—Faye could never sleep the night before a flight—the alarm went off at 4 a.m. She took a quick shower and did a last-minute check of the apartment. She then lugged her suitcase down the four flights of stairs, hoping not to disturb her neighbors, before pushing her way out of the building and onto the sidewalk where she could hail a cab.

A short taxi ride later—there was almost no traffic at this early hour—Faye went through security, found her gate and settled into a seat with the file folder on Gregor to wait for her boarding call. Ever punctual, she always liked getting to the airport with plenty of time to spare.

After a while, she looked up from an article about Gregor’s favorite Thanksgiving recipes, including a roguish photo of him in an apron with three-day stubble, to check out some of her fellow travelers. There were plenty of people flying solo, presumably on business, a few families dressed in their comfy sweats, their seats overflowing with bags and snacks and amusements, and seated just across from her, a young couple obviously on their honeymoon. The woman was wearing tight jeans and high-heeled boots and looked about the same age as Faye, and she could tell from the sparkle in her eye that she had to be a newlywed. Her husband, a tall man dressed in a gray sweater and jeans, seemed to dote on her. Faye smiled wanly in their direction. As hard as she tried, it wasn’t easy to let go of all the plans she had made for her life as a married woman. She would never admit it to anyone, but seeing other happy couples made her stomach churn. Other people in love only served to highlight how very alone she felt.

When it was finally time to board, Faye found herself seated near a window with an empty seat next to her. Perfect! she thought, wrapping the huge cashmere scarf she always brought on trips around her shoulders and fishing for Bev’s file folder in her bag. But before she could settle in, she felt a tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she saw that it was the newlywed.

“So sorry to ask, but would you mind switching so we could sit together?” the woman asked.

Faye thought about saying no but decided that would be too mean.

“Okay,” she said reluctantly, gathering up her things.

“Thank you so much!” the woman cried, overenthusiastically.

Faye made her way into the aisle and squeezed past a burly man in a faux leather jacket to find the middle seat—with another just as large guy on the other side—that she had agreed to occupy for the next seven hours. And, to add insult to injury, she’d have to look at the heads of the happy couple right in front of her. Once the plane reached cruising altitude, they would probably be making out, or more.

Faye pulled out her file folder and was just about to resign herself—not just to the seat, but most likely dying alone in a fourth-floor walk-up apartment, when she heard a voice call out her name.

“Faye? Faye Curry?”

Faye sat up straight and looked around the plane, confused. Her first thought was that she was in trouble. Had the TSA found radioactive materials in her checked luggage? No, of course they hadn’t, she told herself.

“Excuse me? Is Faye here?”

As the voice got closer, she recognized a distinct British accent. And when a man with spiky brown hair, sunglasses and a leather bomber jacket appeared in the aisle, the hair on her arms stood up on end.

“Hello?” Faye said feebly, totally thrown off by the fact that Gregor was suddenly standing two feet away from her, yelling her name through a packed flight full of strangers.

“Sir, if you’ll just return to first class, we can page your friend.” A pretty flight attendant reached out her hand and tapped Gregor gently on the shoulder. Gregor turned to the flight attendant, lowered his sunglasses and gave her a smile.

“I’m sorry, love. I’ll have this sorted in a moment.”

The woman blushed, clearly mesmerized by his sparkling blue eyes and his warm tone of voice paired with that crisp accent.

Faye was fumbling with the materials spread out on her tray table. She wasn’t even sure if Gregor had heard her, until he turned his gaze toward her. She felt his eyes land on a picture of himself—the Thanksgiving article. Faye blushed deeply and quickly shoved the pages into her bag.

“I’m Faye,” she said, standing up and mustering her confidence. She thought she would have a day to get over the jet lag before meeting him—or at least a moment to freshen up in the washroom.

“Pleasure,” Gregor said, reaching out his hand to her. For a moment, Faye thought they were going to shake, but then she felt him leading her out of her seat and into the aisle. His hand was large, almost completely covering her own, and slightly rough to the touch. Once she was out in the aisle next to him, they looked at each other for the first time, face-to-face.

“You’re the writer.”

“You’re on my plane,” Faye said, stating the obvious.

Gregor smiled. “Let’s go ride up front, shall we?”

Faye grabbed her carry-on out of the overhead bin and followed Gregor up the aisle and past the curtain that partitioned off first class from the rest of the plane. Her mind was racing a mile a minute. She wasn’t expecting to have to begin her interview so soon. And she also hadn’t expected that Gregor would be this good-looking in person. She had hoped it would be like other celebrities she had met who looked amazing on TV but short with skinny bodies and big bobble heads in person. Gregor was, in fact, quite tall—well over six feet—with a nicely formed head and broad shoulders Faye could easily imagine wrapping her arms around if he were inside her…

Easy, girl! she cautioned herself. Not only would this line of thinking be extremely distracting from getting her assignment done, it was also against her journalistic code. Getting involved with a subject, no matter how rakishly sexy, was a very bad idea.

“Let me grab that for you,” Gregor said, taking the carry-on from Faye and easily hoisting it into the overhead compartment. The first-class cabin was the complete opposite of the cramped economy seating Faye was used to. The seats were wide and luxurious, each with their own entertainment center. A flight attendant was offering champagne to the couple seated in the row across from the one Gregor had stopped in front of. Although she was nervous about having to be “on duty” for the flight, at least she’d be comfortable, she figured.

“After you.”

Gregor had stepped aside and was gesturing for Faye to take the window seat.

“Thanks,” she said, sliding into the seat and looking up expectantly as Gregor sat down next to her. “So how did you know I’d be on this flight?”

“Bev told me,” he said matter-of-factly. “I realized I was going to be leaving New York at the same time and I have to admit, I wanted to check out who was going to be interviewing me.”

Faye smiled nervously, wondering what Bev had told Gregor about her.

“Bev said you’re her top writer at the magazine. That’s a very big deal.”

“I’ve been doing this for a long time,” Faye said. “Well, not this exactly,” she said, looking around at her very not-usual surroundings. “But it’s what I love to do.”

“She didn’t tell me that you’re also strikingly gorgeous,” Gregor said and then quickly put a hand over his own mouth. “Sorry. Please tell me you’re not going to sue me for sexual harassment?”

Coming from any other man it might have seemed crude, but from Gregor, it was totally disarming. Faye smiled and laughed girlishly at the suggestion.

“You’re fine,” she said, trying to maintain an even keel while her mind did an instant replay of him calling her gorgeous.

“So what do you want to know?” Gregor folded his hands in his lap and looked directly at Faye, waiting for her response.

“Umm,” Faye stuttered. “How did you…?” Funny enough, her mind, which was normally filled with thoughtful and provocative questions, was running on an endless loop of shirtless Gregor up on that paddleboard.

“I’m kidding!” Gregor said, touching Faye’s shoulder so naturally and letting out a laugh. “Plenty of time for business later.” He turned his attention to the flight attendant who was passing by in the aisle and Faye audibly breathed a sigh of relief. This whole situation was just too intense! “Can we get two glasses of champagne?”

“Absolutely, sir,” the flight attendant responded in what Faye thought was a flirty tone. Moments later, they each had a real crystal glass in hand, filled to the top with fine, French bubbly.

“Cheers,” Gregor said, clinking glasses with her and taking a big sip. “Preflight ritual,” he said, holding up the glass by way of explanation.

Faye reached into her bag and pulled out the copies of her tabloid magazines. “These are mine,” she said with a grin.

“Oooh!” Gregor said, raising his eyebrows with a devilish grin. “I love these. They’re so sordid.”

Faye’s insides turned to butter in reaction to his wicked pronunciation of the word. Why did even normal, everyday words sound so sexual with a British accent? She could probably be happy with him reading the dictionary out loud to her for the entirety of the flight. Instead, Gregor had taken one of the magazines from her and was paging through it.

“This is my favorite!” he exclaimed. “‘Stars, they’re just like us.’ Look, it’s Matthew McConaughey eating a burrito!”

Faye laughed and looked over his shoulder at the picture. She couldn’t help but quickly inhale the scent of his aftershave. It was clean and manly and sent a signal straight to her private area.

“Have you ever been caught for one of these?”

Gregor waved off the suggestion. “That’s just for A-listers. No one wants to see me coming round the bend with a bog roll.”

“I think that would be rather intriguing,” Faye said, which made Gregor laugh.

“If my toilet papers are what you’re interested in, this is going to be a terrible interview.”

Faye looked down at the glass she was holding and realized she had finished off the champagne. She was feeling a little light-headed, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the drink or the cabin air. The flight attendant collected their glasses in preparation for takeoff and Faye made sure her seat belt was fastened before turning her gaze out the window. They were headed for the runway.

“Next in line for takeoff,” the captain announced over the PA system. “Flight attendants prepare for departure.”

Faye wasn’t so sure she was ready for departure, but here she was, buckled in next to a handsome celebrity, and ready to spend a week in London with him working on the story of her career. As the plane picked up speed, she felt Gregor place his hand on top of hers on the armrest that divided their seats. She looked over at him, but he was sitting all the way back in his seat with his eyes closed.

It was exciting, the feel of his skin on hers, and comforting, too. It had been too long since she’d been touched by a man, let alone one she felt so instantly attracted to. Faye steadied herself against the loud noise of the engine and just as the plane became airborne, she felt Gregor squeeze her hand—hard. The sudden pressure gave her a jolt and she felt the nerves throughout her body tingle in anticipation—of what she wasn’t yet sure. But one thing was certain: there was no turning back now.




CHAPTER TWO (#uf3463212-fa55-56ad-8242-7bb0c330b04e)


GREGOR WASN’T A fan of air travel, but he had done it so often in his career that settling in for a New York to London flight was really no big deal. As he settled back in his seat, reclining it now that the seat belt light was off, his mind began to turn over the details of the meetings he had taken over the past few days in the city.

There was talk of launching a new show, a cookbook, even a podcast. And while he was grateful that viewers still wanted to see and hear more from him, the truth was that his heart just wasn’t in it. Ever since things had gone so terribly wrong with Emily, his girlfriend of over five years, he’d been down in the dumps. His friends had tried to cheer him up with several wild nights out in London, Ibiza and even Paris, but nothing had changed his downtrodden mood. His knack for picking up the prettiest girl in the room was still intact. The problem was, those easy hookups just weren’t a thrill anymore.

So when his dear, old friend Bev at the magazine had begged him for an exclusive interview, promising to set him up with her top reporter—who also happened to be dynamic and wildly attractive—he allowed himself to be convinced. Some time spent with a woman who could actually make intelligent conversation sounded pretty good. And besides, when it came to Bev, he knew that there was no stopping her from getting what she wanted. So with a little bit of skepticism in his heart, he had agreed to booking the same flight and opening up his home to a complete stranger.

After flipping through the channels on the in-flight TV, Gregor turned to see that his traveling companion was already fast asleep. He smiled to himself, thinking that Bev knew him better than he had realized. Physically, Faye was his type—blonde, American, fit but not rail thin, with curves in all the right places.

Making sure she was actually asleep, he stole a quick glance at her breasts, the outline of which were nicely visible through her sweater. A feeling started to stir inside him that necessitated him readjusting the front of his jeans. Gregor quickly averted his gaze and grabbed a copy of the free magazine in his seat pocket.

As he absentmindedly paged through it, Faye stirred and stretched and then curled her body into his side. Gregor looked over at her and exhaled with a deep sigh. She was smart and sexy, and there was also an earnestness about her that was totally refreshing. The thought of getting her naked in his bed was very, very appealing.

Keep it professional, old boy, he thought to himself, trying to focus on an article on fly-fishing. Just then, Faye languidly threw her arm across his chest, pressing her ample breasts into his side and making a gentle purring sound as she slept. Gregor rolled his eyes and suddenly felt completely helpless to resist the growing urge she was inadvertently awakening inside of him. As he leaned over to pull her shawl up over her, he accidentally inhaled the sweet scent of her hair—a mixture of jasmine and honeysuckle that went straight to his head, intoxicating him more than any glass of champagne ever could.

Just then, a flight attendant appeared next to him, the same one he thought was flirting with him earlier.

“Excuse me, sir, would your girlfriend like a blanket?” she asked in a hushed tone.

Gregor stuttered momentarily, wondering if he should correct her. “Yes. Thank you very much.”

Clearly, this did not look like what it was—a strictly business relationship. Would he be able to keep it to that? he wondered. When the flight attendant returned with the blanket, he laid it across Faye so that some of it was covering his legs, too. Against his better judgment, he allowed himself to imagine the beautiful American reaching her hand out to touch the growing bulge in his jeans. He thought about what it would be like if she actually undid his zipper, releasing his hardness and stroking it, unbeknownst to their fellow passengers, under the privacy of that airline blanket. Gregor sat back in his seat again, closing his eyes and allowing himself to revel in that sweet fantasy. Faye seemed like a nice girl, which made it all the naughtier, imagining her doing such dirty things to him in public.






“Mmm-mmm…” Faye left like she had no control over the noises that were coming out of her mouth.

“Shhh!” Gregor said, squeezing her ass as he balanced her on the plane lavatory sink. The full length of his manliness was inside her, and she was wetter than she could ever remember being.

In such close quarters, she was forced to look directly into Gregor’s sparkling blue eyes, which was not such a terrible thing except for the fact that it intensified all the sensations she was feeling, making it even more difficult to keep quiet and not arouse the suspicion of the other passengers.

Gregor kept a firm grip on her ass. His motions were quick and deliberate, his eyes flashing with lust as he expertly drilled her, clearly stifling his own need to grunt or make any kind of sound. Wanting to be somehow even closer to him, Faye tilted her pelvis upward so that with each stroke she could feel his body graze up against her clitoris, which sent shivers running up her spine. It was the most pleasurable feeling she had even known—the fullness of Gregor’s manhood inside her combined with the friction against that sensitive nub of nerves. In a moment her hands were in his hair and she pressed her mouth into his shoulder, trying to stop herself from coming. It was no use, as her body exploded in the biggest orgasm she’d ever experienced.

“Oh!” Faye cried out, waking up groggy in her seat. When she realized she’d been dreaming she instinctively clenched her wrap up close around her throat, covering herself as best she could from the curious eyes of her neighbors in the first-class cabin, and the handsome man seated next to her.

“Someone had a nice nap,” Gregor said devilishly, raising an eyebrow at her. Faye quickly sat up, mortified that she had been pressed up against a man she hardly knew. At least he didn’t know what she’d been dreaming. Or she hoped she hadn’t said anything in her sleep that would give him a clue.

“I’m so sorry,” Faye said, reaching into her bag for the water bottle she’d purchased back at the terminal and taking a big sip. Her mouth was dry and she felt totally disoriented.

“Not at all,” Gregor said kindly.

Faye reached for her bag again and this time, slung it over her shoulder. “Will you excuse me?”

Gregor stood up to allow Faye to pass into the aisle, but even as he tried to make room, their legs brushed up against each other’s, causing Faye to recoil. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy being in close contact with the Englishman, it was that she was too afraid of revealing her not-so-mild attraction to him.

When she reached the bathroom, Faye pushed the door open and locked it behind her. Splashing cold water on her face, but being careful not to wet her mascara, she tried to snap herself out of whatever reverie she was indulging in. Grabbing some paper towels, she looked down at the sink and vividly recalled some of the key scenes from her very dirty dream about Gregor. And although the dream wasn’t real, the reaction of her body was. She couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so frustrated with herself and at the same time, so turned on.

So it was possible she could feel like this again! she thought to herself. After her wedding was canceled, it seemed like her nether regions had dried up like the Sahara. It startled her to think that Gregor could arouse such a primal, physical reaction in her. She was just getting used to leading a sexless existence, but here was proof that she could still get those butterfly feelings—and then some! Fixing her lip gloss and running a brush through her hair, the sensible side of Faye took over. Even if she had been turned on by a dream, that was much different from getting turned on in real life. She unlocked the door and made her way back toward her seat.

“Feeling better?” Gregor asked, flashing Faye a knowing look as she slid past him and took her seat.

“I’m fine, thank you,” she responded. She looked down at Gregor’s tray table and saw that he was reviewing the file folder Bev had given her.

“This is some pretty intense reading,” he said, paging through the clippings. “Guy seems like a bit of a wanker.”

“Hey! That’s my research,” Faye said defensively. “It must have fallen out of my bag.”

Gregor closed the folder and looked Faye directly in the eyes. It was eerily just like in the dream. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he said, his tone turning serious. “If I’m going to do this interview, then it can’t be any of these canned questions. No, ‘what’s your go-to recipe’ or ‘your favorite holiday destination’ crap. I want us to have a real conversation. Does that make sense?”

“Of course,” Faye said, sliding the folder off his tray table and back into her bag.

“I don’t mean to criticize, it’s just that I want this to be genuine,” he said. Faye could see that he was struggling to put all his thoughts and feelings into words. “I’ll make you a promise,” he said, leaning in closer toward her, so much that she could smell that manly, heady scent of him again. “I’ll be completely open with you. If you do the same with me.”

Faye shifted in her seat, feeling just the slightest bit uncomfortable. “Well,” she answered carefully, “this interview isn’t about me. It’s about you.”

“True,” Gregor said, his tone growing even more direct, “but if there’s to be trust, I need to know that you’re being honest with me.”

“Okay,” Faye acquiesced. “What do you want to know?”

Gregor leaned in to whisper in Faye’s ear. He was so close, she could feel the bristle of his whiskers against her cheek. “When was the last time you were touched, I mean really touched?”

Faye’s cheeks instinctively burned hot. “Excuse me?” she hissed in a hushed tone.

Gregor turned his head so that their eyes were locked on each other’s. “I can tell when someone is lonely. I’ve met lots of people in my line of work. It’s like a signal people send out when they need contact.”

Faye’s cheeks burned even hotter, not because Gregor was wrong, but because he was so very right.

“Maybe you’re right, but it’s still none of your business,” she said. And with that, Faye reached into her bag, pulled out her headphones and turned her attention to the screen in front of her for the duration of the flight.

When the plane finally landed in Heathrow, Faye was looking cool, calm and collected on the outside, but inside she was completely stressed out. Somehow, she was no longer on speaking terms with the person she was supposed to be interviewing. She vowed to herself to keep her personal feelings out of it and focus on the task at hand.

As they walked from the gate to baggage claim, Faye wondered why Gregor was so intent on figuring her out. Maybe it was a way to deflect attention off himself. Was he afraid of revealing too much? Was there something in his past he’d rather forget? She watched as a little boy walking with his family dropped his stuffed animal. Without a second thought, Gregor grabbed the doll and sprinted toward the family, calling out to them until the little boy was reunited with his bear. Faye watched a second longer as the family recognized him. Gregor gamely posed for selfies with each of the family members, including the stuffed bear. So he was a good guy, too, Faye thought, almost wishing it wasn’t so. If he was an asshole, it would be so much easier to dismiss him, to put thoughts of him out of her mind.

As they left the baggage claim, each with a suitcase, Gregor headed to the parking lot and Faye followed. By the time they reached his car, a glistening black Miata, she was happy to be inside and get warm. Sliding into the passenger seat, Faye looked out the window as Gregor started the engine.

“I’m sorry about what I said back there, about your…” Gregor started and then trailed off. “None of my bloody business.”

“That’s right,” Faye said matter-of-factly, in the most curt tone she could muster. Still, she couldn’t help but allow a smile to cross her lips. It was delightful, knowing he was worried he had offended her.

“What?” he asked, turning his attention from the road to her and back again.

Faye laughed and pushed him playfully on the arm.

“Hey!” he cried. “One of us is operating a motor vehicle. This is serious business.”

“I’m sure,” Faye said, reaching over to the console and turning on the radio. It was “I’m Alive” by Love and Rockets. Faye started to sing and after a moment, Gregor joined in, tapping the beat on the steering wheel.

When the song ended, they smiled at each other in acknowledgment of the moment.

“So, don’t you want to ask me about my sex life?” Gregor asked after a moment.

“Not really,” Faye said, and watched amusedly as Gregor made a face. “How about this,” she started, blushing slightly at the question she couldn’t believe she was about to ask. “What’s the strangest place you’ve ever made love?”

Gregor laughed at the question, throwing back his head. Faye loved the sound of his laugh, it was so devil-may-care and sexy.

“Easy!” Gregor said emphatically. “A bear cave at the zoo!”

Faye laughed. “With—a bear?”

“No!” Gregor yelled, smacking her on the leg. The slap sent a pleasurable sensation across her thigh and straight to her nether region. She put her hand on the spot he had touched and rubbed it. “With a young lady. It was ill-advised. For us and the bear.”

“Thank God you’re alright!”

“Yes, but I am banned by the Zoological Society of London for life. I think they have a security shot of my face midcoitus posted in the break room.”

“I’m sure the bears needed therapy,” Faye said, smiling at him.

“Indeed.”

Faye looked out the window and saw the familiar buildings of London disappearing on the horizon. “Hey, why are we driving away from the city?”

Gregor paused a moment before answering. “We’re going to my country house. You’ll like it. It’s much more intimate.” Gregor must have felt Faye giving him a look because he quickly added, “Less noise. You’ll have your own room, of course, and access to the study.”

Faye thought about protesting—after all this was not according to plan. Bev’s itinerary stated that she would have her own room at The Savoy and that all the interviews would take place in a meeting room set aside for that exact purpose. Still, it was true that she would probably get more out of Gregor if he were allowed to roam free in his natural habitat. And anyway, she was curious to see how this globe-trotting star lived when he wasn’t filming. Often a person’s home told more stories about them, or inspired the subject to open up like nowhere else.

Instead of complaining, Faye found another song she liked on the radio and settled in for the drive.

It was late in the evening by the time they reached the country roads leading to Gregor’s residence, and it was too dark outside for Faye to discern any of the scenery. The only thing she could see was Gregor, his strong profile lit up by the dashboard lights, his face looking serious as he navigated the winding roads. Seeing him like that made her wonder why he had dropped out of the public eye over the past few years. Was it something romantic? Or something related to a family member? There would be time for all of those questions when they got settled into the country house and had gotten a good night’s sleep. The thought of sleeping in the same place as Gregor made Faye’s heart skip a beat. Even if they would be in separate rooms, it would still be such close quarters. She wasn’t sure if she wanted him to turn the car around and take her to the safe anonymity of her reserved hotel room, or to just pull over to the side of the road and make out with her furiously. She thought about what it would be like to slide over the console dividing their seats and straddle his lap. She imagined her hair falling over her face as she leaned over him, grinding her way to ecstasy on that lean, strong, beautiful body of his.

Faye let out a sigh and saw Gregor’s eyes momentarily flicker from the road onto her and back again. They drove on into the night.

By the time they reached the cottage, Faye was feeling groggy from all the travel, but she perked up at the sight of the beautiful stone house. Even in the pitch black, she could see that it was surrounded by a beautiful English garden, with seemingly every possible variety of flower sprouting from the ground to decorate the gray slabs. Gregor came around to open the car door for her and when she stepped onto the gravel, she noticed just how peacefully still it was outside, her heels crunching against the rocks was the only sound she could hear. It had been a while since she’d left the city and she’d forgotten just how much quieter things were away from the subways and 24/7 delis.

“This is it,” Gregor said, fishing in his bag for the key. “My humble abode.” Gregor unlocked the door and flipped a switch that lit up the entryway and the living room. If the outside of the house was country-chic, the inside was definitely cozy-modern, with neutral colors, comfortable couches, a wide-screen TV and top-of-the-line Bose speakers. Faye could see the kitchen from where she was standing, and it looked like something from out of a magazine. It was like stepping into the most expensive choice on the Airbnb list, except that this was Gregor’s home.

“Or not so humble,” Faye commented, taking in the colorful artwork that adorned the walls. “Oh, my God. Is that a Warhol?”

Gregor smiled and seemed a little embarrassed by his own good fortune. “Yeah,” he said casually, stroking his chin. “I bought it during my art phase. I’ve been thinking of selling it.”

“It’s fantastic,” Faye said, marveling at the painting—and the whole place.

“I’ll keep it, then,” Gregor said.

“Do you mind showing me to my room? I’m a little tired,” Faye said, suppressing a yawn.

“Of course,” Gregor said, snapping to attention. “Right this way.”

Faye followed Gregor down the hallway and into a small bedroom. When he flicked on the lights, she saw a comfortable room painted white, with a beautiful area rug. There were colorful pillows on the bed and a small writing desk with a stool next to it.

“This should have everything you need. The loo’s through there.” He gestured to a door leading to a private bathroom. “Can I make you something? You must be starving.”

“I think I’m just going to take a shower and crawl into bed,” she said, plopping down on the fluffy white comforter. Then, thinking she didn’t want to give him the wrong idea—or did she—she quickly stood up. “Thanks so much for having me in your home. It’s really lovely.”

“Anything you need, I’m just down the hall,” Gregor said chivalrously. The two stood in awkward silence until Gregor cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then,” he said, smiling at her as he shut the door behind him.

Faye stood there staring at the door for a beat and then lay down on the bed, this time breathing out a heavy sigh. It was exhausting, trying to look good in front of someone for that amount of time. She decided to take a long, hot shower and then get into bed and sleep for a very long time. She could worry about the interview tomorrow.

After doing some quick unpacking into the chest of drawers and reveling in a steamy, hot shower, Faye slipped into her pajamas—a pair of tiny shorts and matching camisole covered in pink and red flowers. Noticing her phone, she saw there were a few text messages from Bev, asking how things were going and reminding Faye how important the story was for the magazine.

Faye understood why Bev was so concerned. With so much digital content available, magazines like Amuse Bouche really had to go the extra mile to grab readers’ attention. It didn’t help that three of their sister magazines had folded in the past two years. The pressure was on to deliver.

She also noticed there was a voice message from her mother. Faye had sent her a quick text, letting her know she’d be out of the country, and of course her mother had called her back and left several messages. She made a mental note to give her a call the next morning.

Faye took a cursory glance at her Facebook feed and noticed that David had posted a picture of himself with a group of friends at the beer garden. Even though her sister and friends had advised she unfollow him, Faye couldn’t bring herself to do it. But they were right, it was torture, looking through his pictures, wondering if he was having more fun without her…

Faye clicked off the page and placed her phone, face down, on the nightstand.

But just as she was about to slip into the comfort of her bed, she felt her stomach growl. Deciding to head into the kitchen to see if there was any food, she opened the door to her room and slowly made her way down the hall. She turned the corner and saw there was a light on. Peeking her head around the corner, she watched for a moment as Gregor stood at the counter. He had on a T-shirt and lounge pants and looked even sexier than he had on the plane.

“Hey,” Faye said, walking into the room. “We were thinking about the same thing!”

“Were we? I wasn’t sure,” Gregor said, raising an eyebrow at her.

Faye pointed to the ingredients strewn across the counter. “The food,” she said, moving next to Gregor and looking more closely at what he was making. Then, throwing caution to the wind, she decided to make a huge confession. “Remember what you said on the plane? About my sex life? Well, you were right.”

Gregor stopped what he was doing and gave Faye his full attention.

“The thing is, I just don’t think I like sex anymore,” she said, running a hand through her long blond hair. “At least, I didn’t think I ever would again. Until earlier today.”

Gregor’s eyes lit up with desire and he moved toward her with laser focus.

“Wait,” she said, holding out her hand when he was almost close enough to touch her. “I’m not sure we should do this. Even if it would be fun…”

Gregor put his hands around her waist and just when it looked like he was about to kiss her, he instead spoke directly into the side of her neck. She could feel the gentle bristle of his facial hair on her skin as he moved his lips.

“I just want you to feel pleasure,” he whispered, his breath hot on her neck.

Faye nearly melted, her skin tingling in anticipation of that pleasure, but she somehow managed to maintain her composure.

“I’m a journalist, working on a story,” she said, reminding Gregor of her creed. Or was she really trying to remind herself? She knew there was something she had learned in school about reporters needing to remain clearheaded, which was at the moment impossible to do, as Gregor planted openmouthed kisses along her neck.

“Wait,” Faye said, breaking away from Gregor and trying hard to catch her breath. “I can’t get involved with my subject. It’s unethical.”

“Is that really what you’re concerned about?” Gregor said, pushing Faye’s curtain of long blond hair behind her ear and looking directly in her eyes. Faye could see that this had been true all of his life. He was used to getting whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. But not this time.

“I never get involved with my subjects. It’s my personal policy,” Faye said, steeling herself. Every inch of her body was pulling toward this man’s touch, but her mind held her back. Just as she was about to turn and head back to her room, his voice called her back.

“Wait,” he said. “What if it’s just about me showing you one of my skills? For your article.”

Faye couldn’t help but be intrigued. “And what skill is that?”

As an answer, Gregor pushed all of the utensils and ingredients off the countertop and easily lifted Faye onto it so that she was seated directly in front of him. She could feel the cool sensation of the marble against the parts of her buttocks that were exposed by her shorts. She breathed in deeply and kept eye contact with Gregor as he moved in close enough to kiss her, but then knelt down, looping his fingers into the elastic waistband and lifting her up slightly as he removed her shorts. Once he had undressed her, he simply stood there, admiring the beauty of her femininity.

Faye wasn’t used to being so exposed. Any previous action she’d ever partaken in with other partners was pretty much relegated to under the covers. But in that moment, having it all out there made her feel powerful and sexy. It also didn’t hurt that Gregor was looking at her with the most intense, lustful stare she’d ever witnessed.

As he began kissing the insides of her thighs, she grasped the edge of the counter to steady herself. What was this man doing to her—and why was he so good at it? she wondered. She admitted to herself that as soon as she heard she was interviewing Gregor, she had hoped there would be a spark between them. But if anyone had told her he would be pleasuring her on his kitchen counter, she definitely would not have believed it.

It was the same place he had probably prepared countless meals for dignitaries and celebrity friends, and now he was making a meal of her, hungrily biting at the soft flesh of her thighs, his fingers only lightly grazing across her most intimate area. It was this withholding that made her want his touch even more.

Faye groaned—it was an animalistic noise, begging for Gregor to put her out of her misery and give her the warm, tingly feeling she had gone without for too long. Gregor responded by pressing his mouth over her honeypot and flicking his tongue persistently over her clitoris. Faye threw back her head, her long hair trailing down her back as she closed her eyes and gave in to the feeling Gregor was bestowing upon her.

Coming in front of your interview subject seemed like the wrong thing to do, but Faye couldn’t stop herself. As Faye felt herself begin to tremble, she raked her fingers through Gregor’s hair, which she’d been wanting to touch ever since they had met and cried out, making a sound that came from somewhere deep in her belly. Pulling him toward her, she reached her climax and then teetered there for a few moments, her body quivering against his mouth. When she finally came down, he looked up at her with a satisfied smile.

Faye wasn’t sure what she expected to happen next—was he going to fuck her right there on the kitchen counter? Or maybe bring her back to his bedroom and make love to her for the rest of the night? She had no idea.

But instead of taking off his own pants, which Faye would have been highly curious to see, Gregor simply reached up and planted a sweet kiss on her forehead.

“Sleep well,” he said before turning and retreating to his own bedroom.




CHAPTER THREE (#uf3463212-fa55-56ad-8242-7bb0c330b04e)


GREGOR WAS AWAKE earlier than usual the next morning. Over the past year, he had allowed himself to sleep in, ignoring the flurry of business emails and texts to be answered. After a while of not responding to them, the offers for appearances had started to die down—and he was okay with that. Ever since Emily had run off with his supposed best friend, Erik, all of the fame and money suddenly seemed less important. He had been on TV so long, he wasn’t even sure he could remember the reason he had wanted to cook and travel in the first place.

This morning was different. Something about this beautiful young reporter had stirred something in him. He had the overwhelming need to please her. She was smart, sharp as a knife and gorgeous—it was true. But he had been with plenty of smart, good-looking women before. Staring out his bedroom window at the perfectly manicured lawn, he decided that it was Faye’s sincerity that was having this profound effect on him. She just seemed so genuine.

Suddenly he had a strange flash of him and Faye with two kids, pushing a pram in Hyde Park. Gregor shivered. He had always been adamant about not wanting kids. It was one of the things that made him so attracted to Emily. She was always ready for the next party, never wanting to settle down. He had a strange feeling that something was shifting inside him. It was damn near disconcerting.

Feeling the pangs of hunger pinch at his stomach, he threw on some jeans and a T-shirt and made his way into the kitchen. The house was still quiet, so he assumed his guest was still asleep. Had it been a mistake to bring her here? he wondered. Not because he didn’t trust her—he had trusted her fully from the first moment they had locked eyes—but because he wasn’t sure if he wanted the world to know what had been going on with him.

Surveying the state of the kitchen—it was fully cleaned and spotless—Gregor shook his head and smiled, realizing Faye must have done it. How could she have had the presence of mind to clean a kitchen after what had transpired? He remembered how Faye had looked after he had given her an orgasm to end all orgasms—maybe his best work yet.

It had taken everything in him to not unleash his raging hard-on that he had been harboring since the airport and plunge it deep into that inviting opening of hers. Of course, his cock had been aching for her, particularly when she leaned on him in her sleep during the flight. Their scene in the kitchen was a total feat of restraint, as far as Gregor was concerned. He had gone back to his room and given himself release thinking about her gorgeous naked body, that was true. To Gregor, it was more important that she knew he was attentive to her than for him to get what he needed. It was a lesson he had learned firsthand long ago.

Her name was Marina and she was the chef in the restaurant where he had been a busboy at age eighteen. She was older—probably late thirties—and they’d spent many late nights together in the restaurant long after the dining room had closed. Marina was more than his lover, she was his mentor, teaching him everything she knew about sex and cooking. The two were not that dissimilar, really. They both required a heightened use of their senses, attention to detail, precision and the unwavering confidence to be bold in their choices and execution. He had gone from being a child that thought pleasuring a woman was something you had to do to get your own bits off, to an act to be savored in its own right, like prying open a luscious oyster and reveling in the sweet and tangy flesh as it slid down your throat.

He hadn’t thought that way about food—or a woman—in a long time. In fact, everything in his life felt a bit stagnant. At first it had felt good to turn down shows and speaking engagements—it was freeing, really. But then he stopped answering when friends called, and even stopped cooking altogether. It was just him anyway, so what was the point?

As he scanned the kitchen area, he looked for the tools he needed. He reached for the pan on the rack above the range and opened the subzero fridge, pulling out herbs, spices, anything he could get his hands on that would go together. He had the sudden urge to cook for this woman—to create something special and watch her consume it. He needed to see that look of happiness on her face and this was the one thing he knew he could do well.

After laboring over the stove for forty-five minutes, cooking an exquisite breakfast of eggs, vegetable and fruit, and brewing French-press coffee, he had hoped the aroma would have stirred Faye, but the house was just as quiet as when he had gotten up. Walking quietly down the hall toward the guest bedroom, he listened at the door for a moment for any signs of activity before cracking it open just the slightest bit and peeking his head inside.

The outline of Faye’s body was visible in the bed, and all but a few strands of her blond hair were covered by the comforter. Gregor thought about waking her up, but instead decided to let her be. Opening the window, he reached out and plucked a peony from his garden and placed it on the pillow next to her before quietly taking leave of her room.






Faye tossed and turned and finally opened her eyes, feeling a little disoriented. For an instant, she had no idea where she was, but then the memories came flooding back. Of course. This was Gregor’s house. And she was on assignment. But clearly that wasn’t the only thing she was on. Faye blushed, remembering the spontaneous encounter between the two of them in the kitchen last night. Then a jolt of reality hit her. Would things be awkward? Would he want her to leave? Would she have to return to New York and face Bev without a story in hand?

Reaching over to the nightstand for her phone, Faye noticed a red flower resting on the pillow beside her. It was answer enough—so he was still thinking about her! She couldn’t help but smile to herself. Gregor Wright, she thought to herself, laughing at the improbability of it all. The man she knew from TV was roughish, witty and adventurous. Gregor in real life was all of those things, too, but he was also kind and intelligent and very, very attentive. She wondered why he had ended their encounter so quickly.

Swinging her feet over the side of the bed, she quickly showered in the en suite bathroom and threw on a cream-colored, belted linen shirtdress, pulling her long hair into a simple chignon. As she opened the door to her bedroom, she noticed a wonderful aroma emanating from the kitchen. Having forgotten all about checking her phone, she realized she didn’t even know what time it was.

“Good morning,” Gregor said when she walked into the kitchen. He was sitting at the counter reading the newspaper and drinking coffee, and he had on a pair of reading glasses that somehow made him look even sexier. Glancing at the counter, she couldn’t help but flash back on their very erotic encounter from the previous night.

“Sleep well?” Gregor asked.

“Very,” she answered, sitting down beside him.

“Here, let me get you some breakfast,” he offered, jumping up.

“Oh, please don’t bother, I’m not much of a breakfast person.” Faye saw Gregor’s face drop and quickly realized that he had prepared this entire meal on her behalf. “I mean, yes, please.”

Gregor smiled and poured coffee, eventually setting a beautifully plated breakfast in front of her.

“Do you cook like this for all your guests?” she asked, digging into the perfectly cooked omelet.

Gregor looked thoughtful. “I don’t have many guests these days. But I do enjoy cooking for people I care about.”

Faye returned Gregor’s smile and took a sip of coffee—it was the richest, most luxurious roast she had ever tasted. Clearly, this man knew his way around the kitchen—and other things!

“Why is that? Why have you been so out of the public eye lately?”

Gregor chuckled to himself. “I see, so are we in interview mode now?”

“That is what I came here for,” Faye replied, meeting his gaze.

“Very well,” Gregor said. “I’ve been taking some time to figure out what I really want to do next.”

“That’s valid,” said Faye, wishing she had brought out her recorder or at least a notebook.

“But off the record?” Gregor raised his eyebrows and looked at Faye. She nodded. “It’s really lame, but I had my heart broken.”

Faye was speechless for a moment, surprised by how open he was being. “Me, too,” she offered.

“There is something I want to show you,” Gregor said, his tone a little more positive. “Are you up for a drive?”

Moments later, the two of them were back in Gregor’s car, driving down a twisty country road. In the daylight Faye could see just how beautiful the English countryside really was, and she felt thankful that Gregor had given her the chance to see beyond the city streets of London. As they passed emerald green hills and fields populated by horses and cows, Faye felt herself relax. There was so much beauty here, and she had a world-class tour guide to show it to her.

Shortly into their drive, they turned into a small village and Gregor parked the car in front of a simple redbrick building.





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