Read Feel the Heat (Hot In the Kitchen) for Free Online

dying to meet him. Looking into the lively face of the girl before him, he doled out one of his dazzling smiles, the ones he’d been told made his female fans horny. “I’m thrilled to be here. Really, I am.”
    Laurent shook his head and mouthed, Score .
    Jack grinned and turned back to his fan girl. “What was your name again?”
    “Gina. Gina DeLuca. I’m Cara’s cousin.” She motioned to Cara, who stood at the bar talking to her sister. The lovely Lili had covered up her shapely legs and stellar behind in black trousers, but the trade-off was a fitted shirt hugging that figure he’d been fantasizing about all afternoon. Jack would never have considered himself a hair man—was that even a thing?—but there was something about those riotous waves that heated his body like a furnace. She’d made an attempt to tame its nuttiness. While it was still on the big side, it appeared to have gone through some sort of anger management regimen since this morning.
    Before the night was out, he would apologize to her about diminishing her father’s cooking and all Italian cuisine. Yes, she had goaded him, but his response had been rude. And off-base. Eighteen months in Umbria had taught him plenty about the beautiful complexities of la cucina Italiana . Nevertheless, there was something both touching and exhilarating about her loyalty to her family. A hundred fifty covers, his arse. That little braggart.
    “Did you want to hear about the specials?” the cousin asked, vying for his wandering attention. Without waiting for a response, she launched into a recitation of the additions to that night’s menu. “We have two special appetizers tonight— funghi arrosto , which are wood-roasted mushrooms with pancetta, and polpettine arrabbiate . That’s veal meatballs in a spicy sauce.” She leaned in and pushed her hair back behind her ear, a gesture that reminded him of Lili. Christ, now he was being reminded of her? “The meatballs are spectacular.”
    “I’m sure they are,” Jack murmured, indulging in a dutiful gander at her cleavage before diverting his gaze around her to eye Lili.
    “Next up for primi are two special pastas. First we have ricotta gnocchi with sage and butter sauce.” She pulled a card from her apron and consulted it while Jack tried to silence his inner critic. It was only a neighborhood joint; the staff couldn’t be expected to memorize the specials in their entirety. “We also have penne strascicate —that means ‘mixed up.’ It’s fresh penne pasta with sausage, tomatoes, onion, and thyme. It’s a very old recipe from Tuscany. Uncle Tony says his mother used to make it for the family every Friday night back in Fiesole.”
    Jack itched to meet Uncle Tony—he especially wanted to see the man’s kitchen at full tilt—but Cara had said her father preferred to wait until they’d been served their entrées. Sounded like some power thing. He was used to games like that when he dined in restaurants at the topmost echelon. It was unexpected in a midscale establishment, miles from Chicago’s Restaurant Row.
    The munchkin was gearing up for the homestretch. “Now for the secondi . Bistecca fiorentina , made with Chianina beef. That’s for two people. And branzino al forno —whole sea bass, wood roasted.” She edged closer to the table, bending over to give them another flash. At this rate, he was confident he’d be able to pick her breasts out of a lineup.
    She lowered her voice to bedroom level. “Between you and me, I hate fish. And calling it by its Italian name doesn’t make it taste any better.” She chuckled and Laurent joined in, probably thinking he was onto a good thing. Clearly he hadn’t noticed the Jupiter-sized rock weighing down her left hand. Jack kept his testiness in check. It irked him to no end when servers inserted their unsolicited opinions into the proceedings.
    Although, given the size of the menu—the pages upon pages of every Italian specialty prepared since