Turning Up the Heat. Ashley Lister
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interference in their relationship had caused a sufficient rift for Bill to give Trudy an ultimatum. She could either be with him at his restaurant, Boui-Boui, or she could be at Sweet Temptation, a company she was supposed to be running with Donny. Even when Trudy and Charlotte found a way to exclude Donny from Sweet Temptation and operate the company without him, Bill still took some persuading to let her pursue both career goals and have a relationship with him. But, eventually, they had negotiated a compromise.
They had called the whole compromise their new arrangement.
‘Our new arrangement is causing you a dilemma?’ she repeated.
Harvey grinned and shook his head. He was clearly oblivious to her thinly veiled fury. He fumbled through the pockets of his jacket and pulled out his mobile phone, a handful of business cards and a sleek, glossy tablet. He placed them on the table by the side of the muffin and then began to inspect the food.
Trudy barely noticed what he was doing.
She and Bill had worked out the details for the new arrangement in Boui-Boui, not two tables away from where she now sat. When she closed her eyes, Trudy could remember every detail of the night when they forged the agreement.
They had celebrated with a night of fine steaks, matured whisky and sharp, painful spanking. Bill had bent Trudy over his knee, exposed her buttocks, and pulled her panties down to the backs of her knees.
She didn’t protest.
The position meant she was thrilled by conflicting spasms of vulnerability and arousal. When he landed the first light slap upon her rear, those conflicting feelings had heightened to a dizzying, delicious degree.
‘We’ll have no more secrets, Ms McLaughlin,’ Bill told her.
He punctuated the comment with another firm slap to her rear. The second blow felt harsher. Trudy made no complaint.
‘No more secrets, Mr Hart,’ she agreed.
His hand landed again and again. Each blow felt firmer than its predecessor. Her cheeks had quickly grown warm and her arousal intense.
It had been an agreement as solemn as marriage vows.
There would be no more secrets, and a revised working schedule that accommodated the needs of both of them. The new arrangement had been settled with a night of wonderful, punishing passion and the memory always left her quivering with excitement.
On Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, Trudy worked from nine to five with Charlotte at the Sweet Temptation kitchens. She spent those evenings as sous under Bill at Boui-Boui. When she collapsed into bed on those nights, she was usually so exhausted there was barely time to undress before sleep overwhelmed her.
On Thursday, Friday and Saturday, because Bill was away in the city working on his career as a celebrity chef, the new arrangement allowed Trudy to take over as chef de cuisine. This meant spending three torturous days away from him, busying herself with the management of the restaurant’s kitchens and savouring every Skyped or texted moment they could share.
Sundays were her favourite part of the new arrangement.
When Bill returned on Saturday night they finally got an opportunity to be together. Typically, Trudy spent Saturday nights in a bliss of delicious discomfort and Sundays in a euphoria of wonderful aches followed by more marvellous punishment.
But Trudy didn’t like that Harvey might know about this aspect of the new arrangement. It felt as though Bill had been discussing their private life behind her back. She saw Harvey fumbling with a muffin and asked stiffly, ‘Which specific aspect of our new arrangement is the main issue?’
He put the untouched muffin aside. It looked like he was sneering at the pastry.
She wondered if he had noticed the anger in her voice.
‘Travelling up here for half my week is one of the main problems.’
Trudy’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. This was not the reply she had expected. She wasn’t even sure why Harvey would be discussing such details of his business affairs with her. She frowned, aware the confusion was showing on her face.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I’ll be honest with you, Trudy. I’m spending two or more days a week in this part of the country with Billy because he’s now one of my most successful clients. I’m not complaining. It’s a pleasant part of the world. I like the company and the food. But I’d like to do something to make my visits up here more profitable.’
His words didn’t make sense. ‘What do you want from me?’
‘I want to take you on as a client.’
Her mobile buzzed softly again. She ignored it.
‘You want to take me on as a client? What sort of client?’
Harvey had torn the muffin in two. He sniffed doubtfully at the contents. He was about to eat a piece when he paused and considered her. He raised a single eyebrow and asked, ‘Is there really pumpkin in this?’
‘Of course not.’
She struggled not to snap the response. Why did everyone seem to think there was pumpkin in pumpkin-pie spice? No one ever thought there was mud in a Mississippi Mud Pie. No one expected to find toads in toad-in-the-hole. Why were people only so literal when it came to pumpkin-pie spice?
‘It’s a coffee muffin seasoned with pumpkin-pie spice.’
She wanted to ask him again how she could possibly be one of his clients when he represented media celebrities. But more importantly, now he was responding to the muffin, she wanted to hear what he had to say about the dessert.
Warily, Harvey tasted a small piece.
The doubts didn’t vanish from his face but he nodded slowly and thoughtfully.
‘The coffee flavour’s subtle,’ he said. ‘And those spices are divine.’
‘Is the coffee flavour too subtle?’
She wondered if that was the aspect that her senses said were missing. She’d used Coffea Canephora beans to make the blend. They lacked the stronger and more complex flavours of Arabica beans. Was it possible she needed to make the coffee a stronger and more potent flavour?
‘Or do you think there’s too much ginger?’ she asked suddenly. That had been another of her worries when she’d been working on the muffins. ‘Ginger can be overpowering unless it’s used in just the right amount. Then again, the nutmeg needed balancing –’
He placed a hand on hers, cutting her off.
She stopped herself rambling. She could see the confusion on his face. It was an expression she was used to seeing when she started to discuss the mechanics of her profession with people who didn’t work in a kitchen.
‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘Sometimes I get a little carried away.’
Harvey offered an apologetic grin and put the muffin down. ‘I know nothing about flavours,’ he apologised. ‘I know that this tastes very pleasant, but that’s as far as my expertise goes.’ He shrugged and added, ‘I used to smoke when I was younger and more foolish. Whatever discerning palate I did have got spoiled long, long ago.’
She flashed an understanding smile.
‘You, however,’ he went on, ‘have a talent in the kitchen. I think it’s a talent we could exploit. This is why I want to take you on as a client.’
‘As a client? Doing what?’
‘Doing what you love.’
For a brief instant she wondered if he was talking about the way she loved having Bill spank her backside. She shook her head before the idea could colour her cheeks with blushes. The thought was outrageous. Who the hell would want to hear her talking about something like that?
‘I don’t