Taste – Cloverleigh Farms Read Online Melanie Harlow

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Erotic, Romance Tags Authors: Melanie Harlow Advertisement

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She squawked with laughter. “Fat. Chance.”

Whistling “Fever,” I turned around and headed for the kitchen.

TWO

ELLIE

I watched Gianni leave the tasting room, refusing to look at his butt in his jeans.

Okay, I looked.

But in my defense, Gianni’s backside is one of the best parts about him. It’s round and muscular and looks like it might be fun to grab onto—not that I’d ever thought about doing that.

Much.

But if I can see his butt, he’s probably not talking to me, and that’s when I like Gianni best—when he’s not talking to me. Actually, if he would just not speak at all, I’d like his face more too. I’d never tell him this, because he’s cocky enough as it is, but Gianni is undeniably, unreasonably hot.

It’s infuriating. Truly.

When we were in grade school, I didn’t think he was cute at all. He was tall and wiry, his dirt-brown hair was usually a mess, and his nose was crooked because one of his brothers broke it during a fight. His pants always had holes in the knees, his sneakers were always filthy, and he had this way about him that always made me think he was laughing at me.

And nothing was safe around him—not your fresh box of crayons or your neatly tied shoelaces, the homemade treat in your lunch box or the brand new book you were reading, which he’d take from your desk and hold over your head so high you had no chance to reach it. I couldn’t stand him.

But he grew up to look a lot like his dad, whom I call Uncle Nick and have always had a bit of a secret crush on. He’d gotten his dad’s strong jaw and sculpted cheekbones, the dimple in his chin and those thick black eyelashes. The only difference was that Gianni had his mom’s blue eyes, while his dad’s were dark.

I’d actually had a super sexy dream about his dad once as a teenager, which I’d never told anyone about because it was so embarrassing. For like a year afterward, I could hardly look him in the eye. But I blamed Gianni for that, since it was right around the time of the Cherry Festival and that stupid game of Seven Minutes in Heaven the summer after our junior year.

That night had messed with me. Badly.

Maybe it had messed with him too, because after that, he seemed to lay off me a little. We spent our senior year mostly ignoring each other, and then he’d left almost immediately after graduation for New York City, where his dad—who was also a chef—had gotten him a job washing dishes in some famous restaurant kitchen.

Of course, I loved his cooking, but who didn’t? Gianni talked a big game, but he had the talent to back it up. And he hadn’t ridden on his dad’s coattails—he’d made his own way, worked his way up from the lowest jobs in the kitchen, impressing even the most tyrannical chefs with his talent, his work ethic, and his tenacity. Occasionally his big mouth got him in trouble—I was pretty sure he’d been fired a couple times for insubordination—and he still loved to break rules, but at twenty-three, he was already making a name for himself in the industry. Mostly because of that ridiculous show, but there was no denying he’d been the standout star.

Despite what I’d said to him, I’d seen every episode—twice.

Okay, three times.

I’d also read all his press, which was how I knew so much about his career over the last five years and how in-demand he was. In fact, I’d been shocked when he returned to Michigan last summer and then accepted the job offer from my parents last fall.

I’d sulked like a toddler at the prospect of having to deal with him, his ego, and his constant poking at me day in and day out. But my parents had been thrilled, not only to have his name attached to the opening of Etoile and his expertise in the kitchen, but to have someone they considered family at the helm.

“This is better than we could have hoped for, Ell,” my dad said while I pouted. “Beyond Gianni’s skill and name recognition, he’s someone we trust. That means everything when you’re investing in a new business.”

I’d had no choice but to accept their decision. And since my parents were now empty-nesters—my older brother Henri was in grad school and my younger brother Gabe was a freshman at college—they’d decided to spend some extended time in France, where my dad had been born and where they’d met. Living there had always been their dream and I was happy that hiring Gianni had allowed them the peace of mind to achieve it, but he still drove me nuts.

And I’d be trapped in a car with him for hours tonight.

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