Page 46 of Boss of the Year

Daniel interrupted him with a slap on his shoulder. “I know, I know. Just having some fun, brother. You should try it sometime.”

His bright blue eyes shifted back to me, scanning my body up and down with an openness I’d seen men use with Joni when she wore revealing clothing. His infectious smile transformed into something more mischievous.

“What’s that you’re making?” He pointed over my shoulder.

I looked over at the ice-cream maker in the corner. “That? Um, just an experiment. Basil gelato with a balsamic reduction.” I could feel myself stuttering. Would I ever manage to be smooth against that charm offensive?

“Vinegar in ice cream?” Daniel’s face scrunched. “Really?”

“It’s actually quite sophisticated,” Lucas said quietly. “Common in Italian cuisine. Your family is Italian, correct?”

I turned to him in surprise. “That’s right. From, um, Naples.”

“Rome too, right?”

I frowned. “Yes. How did you know?”

“Ondine mentioned it when you served your grandmother’s cannelloni recipe a few years ago.”

Daniel and I were both stared at him like he’d grown two heads.

Lucas cleared his throat. “Er. It was very good.”

He went back to his coffee, but a bit of warmth entered those steely eyes. I felt like every bit of me was being examined by Lucas Lyons. And I couldn’t say I hated the feeling.

Daniel shrugged, already moving around the counter. “Well, this I’ve got to try.”

“Oh, it’s not ready yet—” I started, but he was already dipping his finger into the churning mixture.

“For fuck’s sake, Daniel,” Lucas snapped. “Get your hands out of the food. Jesus.”

“It’s okay,” I told him. “I can start another batch. It won’t take me that long.”

“That’s beside the point. He should have listened to you.”

“Relax, it’s just a taste. Marie doesn’t mind. Do you, Marie?” Daniel held up his finger, examining the pale green mixture. Then, to my shock, he held it toward my mouth. “Here, tell me what you think. If you say it’s good, I’ll try it.”

Heat flooded my cheeks as I became acutely aware of both brothers’ eyes on me—Daniel’s big blue skies, eager with anticipation, and Lucas’s storm clouds filled with equal interest and something much darker.

I opened my mouth hesitantly, and Daniel slipped his finger past my lips.

And I thought—Ithought—something like a growl purred from across the marble counter.

“That’s it,” Daniel murmured, his eyes brightening like a dimmer switch had turned them up. “Good?”

I nodded, unable to speak with his finger still in my mouth. This was beyond inappropriate. I was standing in my place of work, my boss watching while I sucked on his brother’s index finger like it was—well, like it was something else.

Was Daniel going to take it out? The custard was delicious, but this clearly wasn’t about food anymore for him.

What would Joni do in a moment like this?

Answer: My sister would flirt her ass off. She’d lick the finger like she was French-kissing a lollipop, drive both men crazy, and make a hilarious comment that was a double entendre for fellatio.

Yet another act I’d never even come close to doing.

When Daniel finally withdrew his hand, I caught Lucas’s reflection in the stainless-steel surface of the ice cream machine. His expression was the equivalent of a level-five tornado.

“Excellent.” Daniel dipped his finger into the cream again—the same one—and took a taste for himself. Yeah, I’d be tossing the whole batch. “Hot damn, that is actually killer. We’ll have to call you Chef Marie.”