Kent Street is the new up and coming open community. After years of decline, LGBT-friendly businesses are starting to open their doors along the retail ghost town, welcoming open minded and proud patrons to shop the newly renovated shops and eateries. What they didn’t expect was by bringing a bunch of hot men closer together, it would prove to be fiery, to say the least.
After years of crossing each other’s paths in the culinary world, Henri Delacourt and Tate Campbell find themselves working side by side at Michellette’s, a new restaurant on Kent Street. Their arguments heat up the kitchen, but when the fighting turns into one passionate encounter, it rattles them both.
Henri has always seen himself as straight. He struggles to face the feelings he has for Tate, and keeps pushing the man away at every turn. Tate won’t be pushed far. He wants Henri to admit to what he feels and won’t take Henri’s backpedaling.
When everything simmers over, they’re left facing very different futures and need to decide if they can forge ahead as one or be forced to walk away from the emotions they feel.
“What have I ever done that was unprofessional?” Tate asked.
“The longing looks. The stares that tell me exactly what you want to do to me…” Henri felt heat filling his face. He wasn’t sure why he felt so embarrassed bringing these thoughts out into the open. He shouldn’t have to speak them aloud.
“Just what is it you think I want to do to you?”
A vision of them both naked, bodies entwined, in a bed… it came to his mind, slamming into him so hard it nearly took his breath away. He glanced up and felt his cheeks steaming with heat. Henri met Tate’s stare, unable to speak for a moment. His breathing shallowed as the images continued. Tate’s lips trailing over his body before licking up one side of his shaft and back down the other.
His body stiffened with the need coursing through him. Cock hard, he stood there aching… for another man.
He didn’t understand why he felt like this.
He was straight.
Tate’s stare drifted… and there was no mistaking that the man saw Henri’s erection under his chef pants.
“Looks to me like you want me,” Tate said.
Henri glared at him. “I’m not gay, Tate. I’m not into guys.”
Tate drew in a breath before leaning closer. He was too close, and Henri stiffened. He stared at Tate’s lips, suddenly wondering what they tasted like. Those lips parted slightly as the man grew closer.
Henri’s tongue poked out, and he nervously wet his lips before expelling a long breath. He hungered to feel Tate’s lips on his.
But just seconds before he knew he’d get to experience Tate’s kiss, the man paused, hovering inches away.
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that lie, Henri. When you’re ready for me to kiss you, you let me know.”
Tate spun on his heel and headed toward the back door.
How dare he! Henri stood there, rooted to the floor a moment, shocked that the bastard had humiliated him like that.
And… and… he’d wanted that kiss. He turned toward the stove, angrily shoving the pan from the flames and turning off the gas. Before he could stop himself, he stormed through the kitchen and out the back door.
Tate froze in the middle of the alley and turned to look at Henri. “Yeah?”
Henri’s mind spun, trying to come up with the perfect curse to toss Tate’s way. He kept walking, his lips silent. When he was inches from the chef, he grabbed the sides of Tate’s face and planted his lips on the ones he’d so desperately wanted to taste.
When he pulled back, heat filled his face.
What the hell had he just done?