Read Make You Mine for Free Online Page A

swallow. “I’m Allison Mauvais, and I’ll be—”
    “No autographs.” He started to shut the door, but on instinct, Allie wedged her sneaker-clad foot in the jamb. The hazel eyes narrowed at her were not amused.
    “Can I come in for a second?” she asked, taking another quick peek up and down the hall.
    Phillip wrinkled his nose like he’d smelled vinegar in his hollandaise sauce. “No, you most certainly cannot.”
    This wasn’t going the way she’d planned. Allie scrambled for damage control. “I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m your new pastry chef.”
    “Oh,” he said, relaxing a bit. “Never heard of you.” He opened the door an inch or two but didn’t invite her in. “Where’d you graduate?”
    “Cedar Bayou High.”
    “No,” he said, snickering in a way that made her feel stupid. “Which culinary school?”
    Allie hesitated, unsure of how to answer him. She had no degrees or formal training beyond what she’d picked up in her mama’s kitchen. But deciding she had nothing to be ashamed of, she admitted, “I didn’t go to culinary school. But I learned from the best.”
    “Yeah?” He munched his almonds, tipping back his head to look down his nose at her. “Who?”
    “It’s wasn’t a formal apprenticeship, but my mama and my—”
    “Oh, God.” He pinched his temples between his thumb and index finger and regarded her with new eyes, taking in the exposed skin below the hem of her skirt and then raking his gaze over her breasts. “I get it. You’re fucking the boss.”
    Allie’s lips parted with a pop, heat rushing into her cheeks. Sheer mortification tied her tongue for several awkward beats, and just when she geared up to contradict him, Phil cut her off with a humorless laugh.
    “I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck, sweetheart,” he said. “I’ve dealt with plenty of broads spreading ’em for a job. Just do what I tell you and stay out of my way. I’ll hire my own guy as soon as we stop in Natchez.”
    With the toe of his shoe, he nudged aside her sneaker and clicked the door shut.
    For a full minute, Allie’s feet clung to the carpet as she stared at the oak barrier inches from her nose. The heat from her face spread downward, sparking a flame of anger inside her chest. Devyn was right. Phillip Regale was an asswipe. And when Allie blotted her cheeks, she discovered the jerk really
did
spit when he talked.
    She balled one fist and pounded on his door. When he didn’t answer instantly, she pounded three more times.
    Alex turned the corner and bolted to her side. “What are you doing? Get back in your room!”
    “Not yet,” she said, pounding until her fist ached. “Not until he takes it back.”
    The door swung open again, and this time, Phillip’s eyes were more than unamused. They were downright livid. “What now?” he demanded around a cheek full of nuts.
    “Nothing, Chef,” Alex said, wrapping an arm around Allie’s shoulders and then releasing her just as quickly.
    Allie shook her index finger at Regale. “I’m not sleeping with the captain!”
    “Right.” He tossed another almond into his mouth. “Then explain why I’m stuck working with an unqualified, hot piece of ass from the swamp.”
    Alex drew a sharp breath, flinging himself in front of Regale as if to take a bullet. “We need him, Allie,” he said desperately. “Don’t hex him!”
    “Hex me?” Regale said with a snort. “Good God, what kind of Podunk shit is th—”
    His voice cut off abruptly, hand flying to his throat while his watery eyes bulged wide. As seconds ticked by, redness crept into his face, followed by a shocked expression. He tried to cough, but no sound escaped his lips. With each new attempt, more color flooded his cheeks until he resembled an unripe plum.
    Alex spun on her. “Undo it!”
    “I didn’t do anything!”
    Phil bent at the waist and clutched the doorjamb, pounding his own stomach to free his airway.
    “Please, Allie!” Alex begged.