Creed (The Marquette Family Book One) Read online

  She made a rude noise. “Not if my job hangs in the balance.”

  He released her fingers, and she breathed a sigh of relief. The feeling didn’t last long. Creed moved his damp hand to her belly, soaking her apron but lighting her body on fire. “I would never take your position away from you because we didn’t mesh in bed.”

  “I don’t know that.”

  “Then let me prove it to you.”

  She laid her hand over his, stilling his movements and keeping him from exploring lower. “You’re making me wet.”

  Too late, she realized what she insinuated. He smirked.

  “I mean—”

  “I know what you mean.”

  His expression said he believed the dirtier interpretation of what she’d said. Frustration, desire, impatience at her own fear all battled within her. She didn’t want to analyze this situation and figure out what was the right course. Not to mention she didn’t want to follow logic if it turned out the best decision meant turning him down.

  “Creed.”

  “Are you telling me no, Shada?”

  Her voice trembled when she spoke. “Am I allowed to say no?”

  “Of course.” He moved his hand, and she could have wept. In relief and in disappointment. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do, because neither of us would enjoy it.”

  “I thought we already established I want it. I want you.”

  “True.” He dried a dish and stacked it with the others he had finished. The sure and precise movements of his hands mesmerized her. What would those hands feel like touching her? Big, tanned, and veined, they could probably do a lot of damage if he was angry. Yet she saw tenderness there as well, sensed it when he laid his hand on her belly. His fingers could do things between her legs, she guessed. Shada shut her eyes to block out the view, but that brought her own imaginings into sharp focus. She blinked and studied the bubbles instead.

  Does he moan during sex? Does he talk? Stop it, Shada!

  “I don’t want you to have regrets,” he said, pulling her from her thoughts.

  Together, they carried plates to the shelves where they were kept, and Creed took her hand to pull her into the pantry. He clicked the light on there and shut them in.

  “This is too obvious,” Shada protested.

  “I’m stating my case.”

  “What case?”

  She had hardly uttered the words before he dragged her to him with one arm around her waist, and he slanted his mouth over hers. Parting her lips automatically, Shada arched into him and brought her hands up to his chest. She tilted her head back and shut her eyes. His tongue tasted so good as it swept the interior of her mouth. Sucking on the tip sent sparks of aching need shooting through her system. Shada ran her hands down his sides and around to his back. She grabbed his ass and drew him closer. Just as she had hoped, Creed moaned, and his hold tightened. He crushed her to him and raised her off her feet. His cock, hard against her belly, slid lower as she rose, and he pushed the thickness between her legs.

  When Creed set her on her feet and put her away from him, they were both panting. He held her shoulders in a firm grip, as if he battled between drawing her close again and pushing her farther away.

  “There,” he said. “Tell me how much more of that you want.”

  She tried for flippancy. “You’re pretty sure of yourself.”

  “You told me you want me. Should I not have believed you?”

  She grinned and shrugged.

  “Besides, you’ve seen what I have to offer. I assume you liked what you saw.”

  All evidence of his embarrassment disappeared. He was right. She’d seen his cock and she’d been impressed, and it hadn’t even been erect. Now with him swollen and thick, she longed to get a look—and a touch.

  Shada opened her mouth to capitulate, but he spoke before she could. “I don’t want to pressure you. You do this, great. You don’t. That’s great too.”

  Liar.

  “However, let me make one thing clear.”

  She heard the note of warning and steeled herself.

  “I’m not asking to date you.”

  Talk about a splash of cold water. “Excuse me?” She shouldn’t be angry. After all, she didn’t want a boyfriend either.

  He rushed to explain. “Don’t get me wrong, Shada. I’m not ashamed of you. Who my lover is, is my business. However, I don’t want a girlfriend or even a mistress.”

  How did he go from being a considerate potential lover to this cold man who stood before her? Sure, in theory she agreed. She didn’t want to get serious either, but just saying it the way he did pissed her off.

  She moved past him and opened the door. They walked out to the kitchen, and Shada found his brother Damen there. While the man didn’t say anything, a speculative light in his eyes said he’d noticed them shut away in the pantry together. She ignored him and finished off the dishes. Creed helped, but he said no more.

  After she was done, Shada wiped her hands and said goodnight to the two of them. She had started for the door when Creed called out to her.

  “I don’t know, Creed,” she said to the question he didn’t speak out loud.

  Damen peered from one to the other. “What are we talking about?”

  Creed ignored his brother, and Shada spun away to leave the kitchen and the two of them behind.

  Chapter Five

  Shada stopped by the table where Marisa sat folding napkins. She’d only done four, although she had been at it for an hour. Laying a hand over Marisa’s, Shada tilted her sister’s chin up. “You look more tired than usual. Did you take your medicine?”

  Marisa smacked her hand and smiled. “You know I did, commandant. You stood over me while I took them.”

  “Well, you wanted to come to Marquette’s today, but I’m beginning to wonder.”

  Not more than a couple of years ago, Marisa had had a lung transplant. The doctors had a lot of hope for her once she passed the one-year mark, but she had good days and bad still, and it worried Shada to no end.

  “Stop worrying,” Marisa insisted.

  Damen appeared out of nowhere and dropped into a seat next to Marisa. Her sister’s countenance brightened, and two spots of pink appeared on her cheeks. Shada frowned and narrowed her eyes at the two of them.

  “I’ll take care of the beautiful Marisa,” Damen promised. He took Marisa’s hand and kissed it. She blushed to the roots of her hair.

  “Thanks, Damen.” Marisa had the nerve to take the kiss in stride. “See, Shada? I’m okay.”

  “Leaving you with Damen is not my idea of being fine,” Shada grumbled, and she debated snatching her sister’s hand from Damen’s and telling him to back off.

  “Shada!”

  She jumped and looked around.

  Rene stuck his head out of the kitchen door. “I need you in here now.”

  “But…”

  “Did you forget we’re opening for dinner tonight, cher?”

  Rene had been out of his head all morning, driving her up the wall. He was wound so tight, she thought he’d blow at any second, and it took all the patience she didn’t have not to curse him out. The accent and the endearment didn’t change that fact. The man didn’t understand that she felt the same way. Tonight, her dish was on the menu, and everything that could go wrong had. The tomatoes weren’t ripe enough, ruining her sauce. When she had sent a girl out to buy more, she’d come back with the wrong kind. In the end, Shada had had to shop herself, leaving Rene to have a meltdown about another issue.

  “How could I forget?” she demanded and hurried to the kitchen. She would have to talk to Damen later about staying away from Marisa and to her sister about lecherous billionaires.

  Okay, that was laying it on a little thick. After all, since she had avoided giving Creed a firm answer about sleeping with him, he had backed off. Not even a lingering glance had come her way. He was professional, and she would never suspect he desired her if she wasn’t sure they had sha
red that kiss in the pantry by reliving it every bleeding night.

  At last, the evening for opening to the public had arrived, and Shada peeked out from the kitchen to take in the impressive presence Creed and his brothers—with their broad shoulders and handsome faces—made in their dark suits. Shada overheard Creed’s deep tones as he greeted two middle-aged women. The women tittered and fluttered hands at their chests as if they were schoolgirls. Creed had claimed to be bad at this sort of thing and refused to work out front, but for one night only, he’d said, he would play host. In Shada’s opinion, the man was a natural. At least he was in charming women. He had them eating out of his hands with a few words.

  “Another order for Shada’s dish,” Tiffany announced, entering the kitchen, and Shada rolled her eyes, hiding her glee.

  “Oh, is that what we’re calling it? Shada’s dish? I’m a hit,” she gushed.

  Tiffany offered her a sour expression in answer. “Only because Creed is making suggestions to everybody that comes in.”

  Shada caught her breath. “Creed’s suggesting me to the customers?”

  Tiffany glared at her, lips pressed so tight they were deep rose, and swung away to deliver an order.

  From then on, Shada worked with half her mind on the tasks at hand and the other half speculating on Creed’s special treatment. She didn’t dare deceive herself. Creed wouldn’t risk the success of the restaurant if her food wasn’t up to snuff, but neither did he have to push it forward to his guests.

  “Compliments to the chef,” Damen announced from the doorway, and Rene walked out to greet the customers who had called for him. Shada didn’t mind a bit. She liked being in the back, creating. So far, she loved the position, and Rene was good to work with because he had taught her a lot in the short while they worked together. Nothing could be better.

  “I said the chef,” Damen repeated when he stuck his head in the kitchen again.

  She frowned at him. “Rene already went out.”

  “The other chef too,” he said.

  Shada tried not to leave the floor as her spirit soared. Damen smirked when she passed him, and he patted her on the shoulder. Silverware clinked on dishes, the jazz musician and the piano player in the corner filled the air with soothing sounds, and the murmur of contented patrons at every table said the restaurant was a success so far. She paused and glanced across the room to locate Creed, and she found him standing at a table with Rene and an older couple. The air of importance the man gave off let her know he was a big shot, and she wiped her hands on her apron as she approached.

  Creed gestured for her to stand beside him and placed a light hand at her back. “Sir, this is Shada Howard, and Shada, this is the mayor of our city and his lovely wife.”

  Shada’s jaw almost hit the floor, but she caught it just in time. “How do you do?” Her voice came out raspy, and she cleared it.

  The couple seemed gracious, and the mayor’s wife took Shada’s hand to hold it between her own. “That food—I told my husband we have to come back here again and again. I don’t know if I want to try anything else. It was delicious, Shada. Thank you so much.”

  “No, thank you, ma’am,” she said.

  Creed spoke up. “You’re both welcome at any time. I’ll be glad to hold a table for you whenever you like.”

  The couple thanked them again, and Shada made her escape back to the kitchen. She’d scarcely closed the door and struggled to breathe when Creed appeared.

  She grabbed his jacket sleeve, shaking. “The mayor, Creed?”

  He chuckled. “That’s a good thing.”

  “I know, but I’ve never met anybody that important. I thought I was going to fall through the floor.”

  He chuckled. “You’ll get used to it.”

  She eyed him and recalled Creed and his brothers were pretty important people too. Maybe the mayor and others of high station came because of them. Creed must have met plenty of movers and shakers, so it seemed like old news. She began to wonder if it had ever been possible for the restaurant to fail, given who they were. No special grand reopening announcement had been needed, just as Creed had said.

  After a few moments, she realized Creed was staring at her, and she looked up at him. He studied her face. “Are you pleased?”

  “Uh, yeah! It’s like a dream come true. Thank you.”

  In an instant, the cool detachment was gone, and she saw what she had seen in the storeroom a few nights ago. A thrill raced through her, and it had nothing to do with the food.

  “Later,” he promised and disappeared out the door before she could ask him to explain.

  * * * *

  They served the last meal at eight-thirty and officially closed at nine. Even though Shada’s feet hurt and she was tired, she was also keyed up. She stretched her arms over her head and worked out the kinks in her neck. They had their dishwashers tonight, so no double duty for her. Earlier, against her protests, Damen had run Marisa home and returned in a decent time, which told her he hadn’t stayed to take advantage of her. She knew she was being overprotective, especially since Marisa had turned twenty-eight three months ago, but one couldn’t be too careful with a man like Damen. He was nice, but he also didn’t come off as serious. Shada wouldn’t have her sister used, and she’d snip his balls off if he hurt Marisa.

  “Shada,” Creed called from down the hall. She snapped out of her reverie to go see what he wanted. Expecting to find he wanted to review something with her about her performance, she gasped when he tugged her into his office, slammed the door, and trapped her against it.

  “Creed, what’s going on?” She swallowed, avoiding his eyes, but his Adam’s apple, the thick column of his neck, and the broad shoulders weren’t much better. “You said you wouldn’t push.”

  He tilted her chin higher, forcing her to meet his gaze. “If you told me to back off. You didn’t tell me, Shada. In fact, you’ve said nothing.”

  “Well, I was thinking.” She wriggled to get free, but her thigh brushed his, and she froze. “I have cleanup duty. Everyone’s going to think I’m shirking my responsibilities.”

  “Let them wait.”

  She realized from the glint in his gaze and the firmness of his jaw that he was just as keyed up after the success of the night as she was. The difference was, Creed’s assertive personality came to the forefront even more because of it.

  “I want you,” he reiterated. He leaned down and kissed her throat. Her pulse raced. “In point of fact, I want to eat you up.”

  “C-Creed.” Her body was on fire. She licked her lips.

  Creed narrowed his eyes and pulled on the strings of her apron. The material loosened around her waist. He flattened the palm of his hand on her belly. “Do you know where I want to put my hand right now, Shada?”

  “No,” she lied.

  “Should I show you?” he said, his voice low.

  “Um.”

  Somehow she spun away from him and grabbed for the doorknob. He covered her hand and moved closer. Now she realized he’d let her turn on purpose so he could spoon her ass. All of her willpower worked to keep her from grinding into him.

  “S-so let me get this straight.” Damn it all, I’m over the stuttering. You’re not a virgin, Shada. Stop acting like one. “I want to be clear, Creed.”

  He nuzzled her nape. “Of course.”

  “If I say no right now and mean it…?”

  “Baby,” he groaned in her ear. Her panties were done for. “Don’t say no.”

  She shut her eyes and rested her forehead on the door.

  Creed pounded the wall with his fist, and then his body was no longer pressed against hers. She peeked over her shoulder. He had stepped back, his fist pressed to the bridge of his nose. “Go,” he said.

  “You’re letting me?” She hesitated to move.

  “I said I won’t force you. Go now. Please.”

  Shada pivoted in degrees. She eyed his crotch and saw the tent there. He reached his desk and leaned over it. The tensi
on in his hand when he gripped the desk turned his knuckles white. This man wanted her bad. Really bad. The knowledge boggled her mind. He could surely have any woman he wanted. Hell, half the women who had come to the restaurant would have said yes if he’d propositioned them—no matter their age. Since she’d met him, he could have satisfied his lust many times, but over the last few weeks, she hadn’t seen Creed leave the restaurant except late at night. He always returned early in the morning and worked straight through. This man had denied himself physical pleasure with a woman, as far as she could tell, and he had chosen her. He wasn’t offering what she didn’t crave, and he definitely wouldn’t interfere with her personal decision not to fall in love. Nothing could be more perfect.

  She walked over to him and rubbed her hand over his cock, squeezed it, and pressed her body to his. Chin raised, she challenged him with a look and waited.

  Creed’s arm shot out, and he crushed her to his chest. “You better be serious, Shada.”

  She kissed him and caught his bottom lip between her teeth. A tiny lick at it with the tip of her tongue made him moan. “I’m serious, as long as it’s your place and not mine.”

  “Let’s go!”

  She pushed at his chest. “I have to clean up first. You’ll have to wait.”

  “I’m the boss, and I say—”

  “Wait for me, Creed. I’m worth it.” Check me out, getting all bold. She spun away from him, ground her ass into his crotch, and walked to the door. At first she thought he would force her back, but he let her go. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw a lust burning so hot in his eyes that she almost went back and begged him to take her right there.

  Somehow, she made it through work, and then they were off. The last things Shada saw at Marquette’s were Tiffany’s scowl of jealousy and Damen’s knowing smirk. Stefan had disappeared altogether, and Rene had walked off down the street in silence.

  “I think they know,” Shada said, sitting across from Creed in his car. She kicked off her shoes and rubbed a foot.

  He glanced at her and then focused back on the road. “Do you care?”

  “Sounds like you don’t.”

  “Like I said, my lover is my business.”