Kitchen Affairs Part 1

Kitchen Affairs.

Brooke c.u.mberland.

DEDICATION.

To all the stay-at-home moms who make it look easy. And even more so, to the single moms that do it alone.

It is not until you become a MOTHER that your judgment slowly turns to compa.s.sion and understanding.

Erma Bombeck.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

To my amazing husband who always supports me no matter what! You're my soul mate. My forever. To my little girl who inspires me in everything I do. Also, to my two stepsons who've put up with take out, piles of dishes and laundry, and tons of Starbucks runs while I buried my head into writing my debut novel. A huge thank you to my mom & dad, who are my biggest fans. You always encouraged me to do what I love and to be who I am.

I love you all so much!.

Most importantly, to G.o.d, who has given me the strength and faith to cherish every moment and to live for each and every day.

CHAPTER ONE.

AS I REACHED FOR A POT, I heard an unfamiliar voice behind me. "Are you married?" I quickly turned around startled at the question and raised my eyes up to the Mr. Drake Stagliano. His dark eyes and hair matched his deep, dark tone.

Wow... just wow.

"No," I replied in a little more than a whisper. Rather an odd question for someone I've never met. His eyes looked through me as if I was transparent.

He nodded his chin toward my left ring finger recognizing my engagement ring from Liam. I haven't taken if off since the day he proposed and even though we were no longer getting married, I still wore it as a reminder of the love we once shared.

I stared at him waiting to see if he furthered his actions, but he stayed quiet with his hands in his pockets anxiously awaiting my response. "I was engaged a long time ago," was all I managed to say. I turned back around grabbing the pot and utensils I needed in order to finish my cooking a.s.signment.

"Why do you still wear it?" he asked intrigued, keeping his eyes on me as I moved through the kitchen.

"As a reminder," I said seriously. "And to keep danger away," I smirked as I walked back to my counter.

"Danger, huh?" he raised his eyebrows while following me.

"Keeps men away," I grinned. "Usually," I continued, rolling my eyes. He wasn't the first man since Liam to hit on me. Typical.

"That's quite misleading, Miss Woods. Why not wear it on your right hand then?" he asked with a serious look.

"Molly," I corrected. "I haven't taken it off since - " My mind flashed to the moment Liam bent down on his knee, his palms sweaty and clammy, asking me to marry him. Of course, I cried and agreed to immediately. We were expecting our first child together, four months along already but I was only eighteen years old. We were young and in love and just starting our family. It was everything I had dreamed it would be. Until, he died. " - the day it was put on," I managed to finish.

"What happened?" he asked eagerly with attentive eyes. I could tell he was trying to be sympathetic.

This was the last place I wanted to talk about Liam. Being in the kitchen was my comfort place where it kept my mind free of pain. I consumed myself with cooking and creating new ideas. I loved cooking in high school, and after I had Stella I immediately started looking into culinary schools. I wanted to be a chef and make food appealing and desiring. Being in the kitchen was one place where my mind felt free.

"I have to get back to my work if you don't mind, Mr. Stagliano. I'm quite busy today," I remarked without making eye contact. He was making me nervous as I stammered over my words. Drake is the hotel and restaurant manager and oversaw the Riverside where I currently intern. Today was the first day of my last semester, and the homestretch to graduation was in four months.

I moved to Chicago almost three years ago when Stella was one. Chicago offered the best culinary schools. Kendall College accepted me and granted me a scholarship. Apart from interning three times a week, I also attend cla.s.ses twice a week. My best friend, Michael moved here with me to help with Stella while he focused on his writing career.

On campus, we worked in professional grade kitchens learning different techniques about the science of food. In our last semester, we were given a choice of where to intern in gaining more experience than just at school. Riverside was one of the options this year, and since I hoped to work there someday, I applied for the internship program.

"Sure sorry to impose," he grinned with a bright smile and nodded. "Have a pleasant day." My face reddened as he walked away from me. I'd done my research before accepting the internship and knew of the Stagliano family quite well. I also knew Drake was a ladies man and extremely powerful. And mostly, he's incredibly intimidating. And hot.

I dropped the pot on the floor like the klutz I am as I watched him walk away, appreciating his rock hard body. His perfect dark hair and perfect-framed jawline sunk you in as his face hypnotized you. His six foot-three frame was pure perfection; yet, I wondered if the inside had any faults. Probably not.

I shook my head trying to refocus as I was drooling over Drake. Mr. Cooper gave us an easy a.s.signment for lesson one, which I sincerely appreciated given it was the first day. I needed to create a new sauce for a dish the restaurant developed: Shrimp Pesto Fettuccini.

For the next three hours, I concentrated on my project. We had to follow the standard recipe but add in our own ingredients to taste. Mr. Cooper wanted to see our creative and tasteful sides. Pleased with my new creation, I packed up and headed to the freezer. I placed the containers of my sauce on the shelf towards the back when I heard the door slam shut. I jumped and quickly turned around afraid that I'm now locked in when I see him strangely standing there staring at me. Awkward.

"h.e.l.lo..." I said vaguely hoping he let me slip past him.

Why is he even in the kitchen? Doesn't he deal with finances and business stuff? Better yet, why is he in the freezer? Oh G.o.d, Molly stop staring!

"Miss Woods, pleasant seeing you here." He stood tall with his hands in his pockets as if he owned the place. Well, technically he does.

I shot him a confused look. Well, I'm the one working in the kitchen after all. "Molly," I corrected him once again. "Excuse me," I urged hoping he would move out of my way. He didn't budge, so I edged myself toward the front, but he only moved closer allowing me the opportunity to inhale his scent.

Sweet Jesus, he smells good.

"I was wondering if you have dinner with me tonight?" he asked, making no easy way to read him.

This is an odd request. What does he want? Why would he be asking an intern to dinner? Does he have better fish to seek?

I'm drowning in my thoughts as I realized I haven't answered him yet. "Sorry I can't," I managed to say as I aimed for the door.

He took another step closer to me giving me absolutely no way to dodge him. "What a shame. Another time then." He stepped aside allowing me to grab the door open. I smiled vaguely at him and walked out wondering what the h.e.l.l that was about.

I unlocked the door to my apartment and saw Michael and Stella playing a game of twister. She's laughing, and Michael is losing terribly to a four-year-old. "h.e.l.lo!" I called as I placed my purse and keys on the kitchen island.

Nothing beats coming home to my sweet little girl.

"Mommy!" She ran and hugged me. I felt so blessed to have such a remarkable daughter. She's been through so much in her short little life. She doesn't have a dad, but Michael did a terrific job of making up for that. I don't know what I'd do without him.

"What's going on here, baby girl?" I grabbed her in for a close hug and kissed her.

"Uncle Michael is losing!" Stella grinned as she stuck her tongue out; clearly proud she's beating him. Gosh, I love her s.p.u.n.kiness.

"That's wonderful darling. What have you guys been up to? How was school?" I asked, trying to get the details of her day.

Stella attends a private school while I'm away at school. She's exceptionally smart, which I have Liam to thank for that. Liam was in his third year of studying psychology before he died. I used to edit his papers for him while he studied and ended up learning more about psychology than the average person wanted to know. Although I teased Liam for studying psychology, I truly admired his hard work and dedication. He was striving to become an addictions counselor, ironically being from a home where his mother abused drugs and his dad was too ignorant to notice. He wanted to make helping people a career. Secretly, I think he just wanted to make up for not being able to save his mother before it was too late.

"Great Mom! I drew a picture for you!" She ran to the refrigerator where her picture was hanging so neatly. She brought it over to me and beamed with pride.

It was moments like these where I truly wished Liam were around. As she grew older and developed her own little personality, I noticed characteristic traits of Liam. She would do ridiculous facial expressions that were identical to him, and I would scoop her up and kiss her senseless at the reminder of him.

Stella got in the bath while I helped Michael prepare dinner. He been working so hard lately that he was hardly home anymore.

Michael and I met the first day of high school. I was the quiet girl with braces and long frizzy hair. s.e.xy I know. I was new to the area and didn't know anyone. My parents had just announced their separation and my mom moved to the other side of town putting me in a new school district. Michael and I were in homeroom together, and when he first set eyes on me, he asked if he could give me a makeover. That was when I knew he was my new best friend.

"So what's new girl?" Michael asked cheerfully through his beautiful bright smile. "Tell me the deats from your first day."

"Not much to tell. Pretty standard boring stuff," I said, taking off my white chef's coat and ap.r.o.n. "Got an easy a.s.signment of creating a new sauce for a new entree and then got bombarded by Drake Stagliano in the freezer," I answered casually hoping he did hear the last part.

"Um, I'm sorry, say what?" he asked, staring at me, not letting it go. He stood with his hands on his hips eyeing me down for answers.

"First, he asked if I'm married, and when I told him no, he trapped me in the freezer asking me to dinner. It was weird. Not sure what it was about," I said faced away from him, so he didn't see my flushed cheeks.

"Wow girl, you get some!" he exclaimed, smacking me hard on the a.s.s.

I glared at him. "No thanks." I turned and continued making dinner.

As I was mixing the sauce for a basic pasta dish, I remembered the time I was cooking for Liam. He was at the kitchen table studying for his Freud exam when he was reading Freud's childhood history aloud. Freud was in love with his mother and felt a s.e.xual pull to her. I remember laughing and teasing Liam for having to study theorists that obsessed with s.e.xual development.

"Babe, our daughter will know all about Freud before first grade!" Liam joked. He read his textbooks to my tummy almost every night. It was adorable, however, I certainly did not want our child growing up knowing psychoa.n.a.lyst theories before was necessary.

"Let's just stick to numbers and ABC's," I mocked. Liam was so excited to be a daddy. He lost his mother when he was only thirteen years old, and it undoubtedly affected him hard. His mother was a drug addict, and his dad tried to be there for him, but he was also grieving in his own way. Liam was ready for the responsibility even though we were young. We were in love and ready to start our family together.

Stella was in bed by eight, so I poured myself a gla.s.s of white wine. Drake was still on my mind, baffled that he just came out of nowhere asking me personal questions. It was like there was an attraction; any female straight or not would be attracted to that man. What wasn't to like?

Well, physically at least.

I couldn't actually tell Drake why I didn't want to have dinner with him. I was so used to distancing and protecting myself from feeling hurt again. Losing Liam was the worst pain I had ever experienced in my life, and I did anything to prevent feeling like that ever again. I had used an emotional shield for years.

I started gazing out my window admiring the Chicago night view when a knock at the door startled me. Michael left for the evening, and I wasn't expecting company. I pulled my fleece on, wine gla.s.s in hand and slowly opened the door. My jaw dropped immediately as I got a view of the person before me.

There standing at my door was six foot-three inches of pure perfection of a man. I didn't realize I was staring until he asked if he could come in, taking a step toward me. I gestured him in and shut the door behind him.

"Nice gla.s.ses," he smirked. c.o.c.ky son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h.

"Had I known I was expecting you I would've dressed up," I sneered back faking a smile. Jacka.s.s. To avoid my lenses from fogging up, I wore contacts when I worked in the kitchen. I didn't mind wearing either or, but wearing gla.s.ses made me look like a professor.

So not s.e.xy.

As he walked past me, I got a hint of his cologne. His scent lingered in the air after he walked through the room. It was strong and musky. It was inebriating. I stood there for a moment closing my eyes taking in the moment.

I offered him some wine, and as I grabbed him a gla.s.s, my mind was cluttered trying to think of reasons why he was here. I had nothing. This was a new one for me. As I handed him the gla.s.s, his fingertips slightly brushed mine. I chewed my lip waiting for him to say something; like perhaps why he was here.

The s.e.xual tension was obvious between us. It was like an invisible pull that I couldn't grasp my mind around.

Why am I feeling like this? How can I feel like this when I just met him?

He smiled at me as he took the gla.s.s of white wine and gestured for me to sit next to him at the table. I complied and waited for him to start talking. I realized I was extremely nervous barely able to grab the chair and sit down.

I tried to avoid his beautiful eyes, but they just sucked me in like a wind tunnel. He wore a very fitted three-piece suit that looked positively delicious across his perfect body. He caught me staring and asked, "Like what you see?"

Oh, s.h.i.t. Busted.

"Excuse me?" I stumbled acting as if I had no idea what he talking about. s.h.i.t.

"I'm admiring the view as well," he replied as I felt my nipples harden under my V-neck tee. I hoped he meant the Chicago view, but I seriously doubted it. "That mole especially." He pointed right above his lip on the left side where I had a small brown mole.

Liam spotted that same mole the first time he saw me. I was a soph.o.m.ore, he was a senior, and somehow we ended up in the same Math cla.s.s. I advanced into pre-calculus and was able to skip to senior math.

"You have something on your face." He rubbed his upper lip showing me where.

"It's a mole. But thanks for noticing." I bowed my head back down hoping he'd get the hint. He didn't.

"Hey Aaron!" He motioned to his friend to come by him. "I'd like you to meet my future wife." He faced me. "What's your name honey?"

What an a.s.s.

Aaron burst into laughter as I buried my head in my hands. I felt my face heat up as I heard the rest of the cla.s.s chuckle at my expense. Liam leaned down on my desk inches from my face waiting for my response.

"Molly." I glared at him. "Now go away... hubby." I rolled my eyes at his cheesy pick-up line.

"You're becoming quite the stalker," I rioted.

"I wouldn't go that far," he defended. "I wanted to see you," he replied with absolutely no regard for how awkward this is. See me? I know where this is going.

I've read my fair share of l.u.s.ty romantic novels in my day. Mostly when I was pregnant, and Liam was held up at school. I needed to distract myself from reality. So, I asked innocently, "For business or pleasure, Mr. Stagliano?"

"Pleasure. Definitely pleasure," he said as he eyed me up and down like a statue. It was as if he were reading my mind.