Eat Your Heart Out Read online

  She shoved him away, opened the bathroom door and kicked out their pile of clothes, perfectly aware half of them were hers, but she was having a moment here. “I’d like for you to go now.” Go fall off a cliff, damn you.

  “Dimi—” He reached for her, but she backed up and grabbed the only weapon available to her, a tampon. Still, she wielded it with honor. “Out.”

  He very wisely did not comment on the tampon in his face. “We’re going to have to discuss this.”

  “Over my dead body.”

  Then, unladylike as it was, she pushed the beautifully naked man over the threshold of the bathroom and slammed the door.

  This time she locked it.

  Her only regret was not having a freezer in the bathroom. She sank to the edge of the tub and thought about that. With a freezer, she’d at least be able to have ice cream at her own pity party.

  CHAPTER 11

  “CAMI.” DIMI GRIPPED her cell phone tightly. “I know it’s the crack of dawn, I’m sorry.”

  “What’s the matter?” Cami croaked, obviously half asleep. “It must be bad. This is way too early for anything but very bad.”

  “I terrified a man in my bathroom last night.”

  “What did you do, threaten him with perfumed shampoo?”

  “Funny.” Dimi blew out a breath, merged into traffic and headed toward the studio with what felt like bricks in her stomach. “I told Mitch I was revoking my no-man rule. You should have seen him. He turned green, like he needed to puke. Flattering, huh?”

  “Dimi, did you do this before or after you knocked it out?”

  “Who said anything about knocking it out?”

  “In the bathroom…please. What else would you guys do in there together? So…did you? In the shower?”

  “On the counter,” she muttered, swiping a hand down her face as her sister cackled with wicked delight. “Listen, you’re missing the point here.”

  “No, I’m not. You revoked your no-man rule in a moment of passion. Understandable. There’s not a woman on the planet who wouldn’t get it. A man, however—they’re a different breed. They don’t want to hear such things while they’re still breathing like a racehorse. They need to process their emotions, and honey, it takes them a while. They are men, after all.”

  “Great. In the meantime I’m left feeling like an idiot.”

  “Oh, no. You can still turn this around,” Cami promised. “All you have to do is stick to your plan to drive him crazy, remember? Don’t lose focus here, sis. Sidetrack him with your body, and he’ll forget that you terrified him in the bathroom with all that after talk he’s not ready for.”

  “Well, dammit, that’s just embarrassing.”

  “Trust me on this one, sis. You’re still in the driver’s seat.”

  * * *

  By the time Dimi arrived at the studio, she’d come around to Cami’s way of thinking. Mostly because she could only wallow in humiliation for so long. She had to do something, and it might as well be to continue to drive Mitch as crazy as he’d driven her.

  If he thought she’d let loose of her passion before for the show’s sake, watch out! She’d learned her powers well. After all, she’d had the best teacher—him. Tease for tease, she was going to give it back. Starting today.

  She was woman, hear her roar.

  A good amount of the wind went out of her sails when she got to the set and heard the latest rumor. Mitch was leaving in just two days.

  Two days.

  Okay. Good. No more being on edge throughout the day, wondering if he was going to look at her, touch her, make her crazy with wanting.

  No more fretting over their future, because obviously there was nothing between the two of them except for a slightly out of the ordinary heat they couldn’t control to save their lives.

  No problem.

  She got ready for the day’s show, and when Mitch came in with only two moments to spare, without his usual time to talk to her, she smiled grimly. He’s just one big chicken, she decided, which really worked in her favor and gave her even more courage.

  She waited until the countdown. At the fifteen-second mark she sidled in close to him, missing her own mark to stand nearly on his toes. Sliding her hands up his body, she cupped his face and brought his ear down to her mouth, all on the guise of whispering some last-minute direction. “I’m not wearing plain white cotton panties today,” she whispered. “I’m not wearing panties at all.”

  Whipping his head to face her, his eyes wide, he opened his mouth, but she put a finger to his lips. “Our little secret.”

  “Five seconds!”

  Their lower bodies were hidden from the camera by the counter they stood behind, which gave her the courage to slide her hand down his spine as she stepped away. Down his back to his butt, which she squeezed.

  He jumped and looked at her as if she were an alien.

  She winked, and when she noticed his very unmistakable erection beneath his nicely fitted slacks, she grinned, satisfied.

  “You’re on!” shouted the director, pointing at them.

  “Welcome to Food Time.” Dimi stepped around the counter and reached a hand for Mitch to do the same.

  He pulled his hand back and shook his head. It was the first time she’d seen him not quite in control.

  She knew perfectly well why he didn’t want to step around the corner and show off his erection, but it still made her want to giggle. “Shy today, Mitch?” she teased. “A bit silly after all we’ve been through together on the show, don’t you think?”

  For once completely speechless, he studied the ingredients she had scattered on the countertop and refused to speak.

  She bit back her laughter and faced the camera. “Today we’re creating sauerkraut balls, but first we need to whip up the frosting for our dessert so it can sit and thicken.” Ignoring Mitch completely, she curved one hand around a large bowl, with the other whipping the contents of her frosting. “I chose to do this by hand because there’s a slim chance I can work off some of the calories before I even eat the thing,” she said, smiling as she worked the whisk, and in the process shaking her tush wildly from side to side. “What do you think, Mitch?” she asked over her shoulder, turning her head to smile at him sweetly, knowing that by standing behind the counter, as he was, he was getting quite the show.

  All shocking intensity, he just looked at her, his dark, dark eyes promising passion, mutual pleasure…and retribution.

  Somehow she managed to break eye contact. She worked diligently preparing the sauerkraut balls, though she was very aware of Mitch’s gaze on her.

  He’s leaving, she reminded herself ruthlessly. Remember that. “Don’t forget to preheat the fryer for the balls,” she told the camera.

  Mitch stirred and lifted a brow.

  Do not blush, she instructed herself. This is all about revenge. “Roll each ball in flour.” She demonstrated, and had never in her life been so painfully aware of being watched as she was with Mitch there, tall, dark, silent and simmering with tension. “Then dip your balls into the egg sauce, letting them drain slowly into your bowl.”

  “Pretty hard on those poor guys, aren’t you?” Mitch murmured, wincing when she pinched the ball into shape.

  “Roll it into the bread crumbs,” she said, trying to ignore him.

  He leaned over her shoulder, once again grimacing. “Hey, treat those things with more care, would you?”

  “After the bread crumbs, drop it into the hot oil.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Fry for two to three minutes until golden brown.”

  “Whatever happened to tender?”

  She refused to look at him. “Serve immediately, or they’ll wither.”

  Mitch broke into laughter.

  When they cut to commercial break, Dimi whirled on him. “I don’t appreciate the comments.”

  “I don’t appreciate the choice of today’s menu. Frying balls, Dimi? Gee, is there a message in there somewhere? And what was that with the