AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He covered the receiver and whispered, “Sorry. One minute. Make yourself comfortable, Cassie.”
He knew my name! Then he continued, “I don’t know. Maybe two days. I gotta see my granny in N.O. Then we go to New York, then France. The tour is in eight weeks, but I want to lay tracks for two singles. Release them while we’re still on tour. I don’t care. Tell him there’s more where they came from. We’re still doing that album.”
Remembering to stir his pot again, he turned his back to me and tasted a little of the simmering dish. He seemed completely comfortable here, knowing exactly what drawer housed which utensil. With every pinch and stir, the muscles in his upper back and along his arms rippled and revealed themselves. The beat of the music was hypnotic, and every once in a while I’d see him get caught up in it, like it was taking him over and moving him from within. Still cradling the phone between his shoulder and his ear, he turned and stepped towards me, this time holding a spoonful of the soup, his other hand cupping beneath it.
“Just tasting my gran’s recipe. Yeah. I’ll bring you some. Now I’m gonna be busy for the next hour,” he said, blowing on the spoon, then bringing it closer to my mouth.
I took a careful, hot bite. Gumbo. Oh God, better than Dell’s, in fact, better than any I’d ever tasted.
“Make that two hours. I’ll call you when I’m back at the hotel. Yup. Bye.”
He dropped the spoon, hung up and turned to me. And he stood there like that, not saying a word, for at least ten seconds. He seemed totally confident, just standing like that, wordlessly, eyeing me up and down, the music still pumping. This man was someone. That was for sure. I decided to break the ice.
“I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important,” I said over the music. He took a remote and aimed it over my head, lowering the volume. He didn’t reply. I asked, “Who are you?”
He was about to say something, but just laughed and shook his head. “I’m whoever you want me to be, baby.”
“But … those bodyguards out there. They’re for you, right?”
And there it was again, that shake of the head, that shy boyish smile.
“No comment,” he said. “We’re not here to talk about me. We’re here to talk about … what you got on. Tell me a little something about what it is you’re wearing,” he said, crossing his arms across his chest, then resting a thumb on his lips. He stepped out from behind the island and stood ten feet from me, assessing me like I was auditioning for something. My knees weakened at the sight of his belt buckle resting low in front. I tried not to stare, but this was a powerfully seductive man. I felt silly and old in my dumb yoga pants.
“Um, they asked me to wear this,” I said, looking down at my idiotic sneakers.
“Nice. When I told them ‘soccer mom,’ I wasn’t being literal. But I gotta say, this is pretty much what I had in mind. Just that the clothes are wrapped around a sexier package than I imagined.”
“May I?” I asked, pointing to a stool at the island. I was shaking so much, if I didn’t sit, I’d collapse.
“Sure. You like gumbo?” He grabbed his spoon and turned to the oven to give the pot another stir.
“I love it. It’s … it’s really delicious. Um … Are you going to cook for me? I’m just not sure I ever said anything about a fantasy involving cooking.”
“I am going to cook for you. And you’re going to do something for me,” he said, pointing his spoon at me.
“I am?”
“You are.”
“I thought this was my fantasy?”
“Are we gonna have a problem?” he asked, with a kind of cocksuredness that made me a little weak. He didn’t seem like a man used to hearing the word no.
“Are you going to tell me your name?” I asked, feeling bolder.
“I use a different name for my work, but my real name is Shawn.”
He turned the heat off and came around the kitchen island to stand beside me, towering over my little red stool. His hair was shorn close to his head. His right wrist held a riot of leather bracelets, rubber bands, and a gold chain that was thicker and shinier than mine. No charms. I caught a hint of musk off his skin, something that came from an expensive bottle.
I clenched my jaw. His boldness seemed to bring out something in me, something new and fierce. “Are you going to tell me who you are?”
“That’s for you to figure out. Later. Right now, what I am to you is your sex-with-someone-famous fantasy. But this is S.E.C.R.E.T., remember? These things tend to work both ways, as I’m sure you’re discovering. So, do you accept the Step?”
“Do you mean my fantasy is actually yours somehow too?”
“Yup.”
“And I have to take it on your word that you’re famous?”
