He’s her brooding, off-limits boss. She’s his innocent young chef…and the weakness he’s craved for years.
I went to Paris to become a chef.
I came back with a culinary degree, a killer wardrobe… and the attention of the one man I should never want.
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Lucas Lyons. My boss. My childhood crush’s older brother.
Sixteen years older than me, to be exact.
He’s all tailored suits, sharp orders, and a voice that could strip the innocence right off a girl—if I had any innocence left to lose. (Spoiler: I do.)
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Once, I was the quiet kitchen maid no one noticed. Now I’m back at the Lyons estate with curves, confidence, and the same inconvenient secret: I’m still a virgin. Lucas notices. Oh, he notices. But instead of giving in, he growls about company policy, age differences, and the dozens of reasons I’m too young for him.
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Then his brother starts sniffing around, and suddenly Lucas is whisking me away on a “business trip” to keep me out of reach. Which is how I end up in close quarters with the grumpiest man alive… and a hotel room that only has one bed.
​
I came back from Paris to chase a dream.
But the grumpy boss trying to keep me from it? He might the real fairytale after all.
EXCERPT
Fact one: I was attracted to Lucas Lyons.
There. That wasn’t so bad to admit, was it?
It didn’t matter that his younger brother was my one true love.
Or that he was a full sixteen years older than me.
Or even that he was my boss.
Fact two: Pheromones don’t listen to logic or the heart.
They thought about how Lucas somehow smelled better after he worked out than before. Or about the way the man filled out a three-piece suit criminally well. Or about the one lock of hair, tinged with silver, that always seemed to escape his neatly combed hair, like the rebel Lucas secretly wanted to be.
I shivered.
Last night, when we’d shared a plate of tuiles and fresh mango after dinner, it had taken every ounce of willpower not to brush that lock off his forehead. Or trace that annoyingly sharp jaw with my fingertip. Or try to make him smile again just to see the scatter of crow’s feet that mysteriously made the man even more beautiful.
No, the laws of attraction had absolutely nothing to do with logic.
On to fact number three: I was an adult, fully in control of my faculties.
I didn’t have to give in to these feelings now any more than I had for the last twenty-five years. Even if it seemed exponentially harder the more time I spent in the company of my brooding employer.
The thought made me spend a little extra time cutting mango, banana, and papaya into perfect roses, if only for something to distract my mind. I had just started the process of making Lucas’s cappuccino when the elevator doors opened.
I glanced at the clock over the stove and frowned. 6:45. Weird. Lucas was nothing if not punctual—never late and certainly never fifteen minutes early. Normally, he returned from his workout at seven, showered, ate, and was out the door by 7:45 for whatever corporate battle awaited him that day.
His footsteps echoed down the hallway, but they seemed slower today, less rushed. I turned toward the refrigerator to grab the bottles of water he always took with him and was bending to reach the water on the bottom shelf when the kitchen door opened behind me.
“Good morning.” His deep voice filled the room. “I finished early with the trainer, so I thought we might have breakfast—oh, Christ.”
The last word came out so quietly I almost missed it, but Lucas’s tone made me freeze, half-bent over with my hand on the refrigerator handle. I straightened slowly and turned to find him motionless in the doorway.
Sweat soaked his gray workout shirt, the fabric clinging like a second skin. I could see the defined ridges of his abdominal muscles, the powerful breadth of his shoulders, the way his chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing. His hair was damp with perspiration, a few strands falling across his forehead, making him look younger and less controlled than usual.
Holy crap, Lucas was fit.
He wasn’t looking at his carefully arranged breakfast spread, thought. Those storm-gray eyes were locked on me. And not on my fact. Substantially…lower.
“Marie.” His voice was hoarse, like he’d swallowed something sticky. The muscles in his neck moved like ropes. “What—what are you wearing?”