Spice Read Online Free

waiter arrived and recited the night’s specials. Nadia ordered a pomegranate martini, Sullivan a glass of red wine. As the waiter left, Sullivan raised an eyebrow at her. “So if I win our game of volleyball, what do I get?”
    Nadia held up a hand. “Slow your roll, Professor. It’s still too cool out on the bay for volleyball on the beach, especially if you want me to play in a bikini. Besides, I’d have an unfair advantage over you, since you’d be too busy staring at my high beams to hit the ball.”
    He laughed, the sound rich and warm. “True enough, especially considering the heavenly nature of said high beams.” He reached over, clasped her hand. “Do you think you can dispense with the
professor
stuff? I’m not at work and you’re not a student. Do you want me to call you Spiceland? Or Chef?”
    Visions of
South Park
danced in her head. “God, no.”
    His thumb stroked over her knuckles. “I could call you Spice, if you like. It fits you.”
    His smile needed to be registered as a lethal weapon. “I’d rather you call me Nadia.”
    â€œNadia.” He said her name as if he tasted a fine wine, rolling it around in his mouth. “Is that from the Russian?”
    â€œYes. It means
hope
. Daddy Vic’s mother was from Russia, and she’d hoped for a loving, happy life for my parents and me.”
    His brow furrowed. “You call your father Daddy Vic?”
    â€œI have two fathers, Nicholas and Victor Spiceland. They had me and my two older brothers through a surrogate. They’re about to celebrate forty years together.”
    â€œIt sounds like your grandmother’s wish came true then.” He cupped his wine, warming it in his hand. “You can call me Kane, which is short for Kaname.”
    â€œKane.” It suited him, strong, a bite of a word. “Kaname is Japanese, right?”
    He nodded. “It means
vital point
. My mother is Japanese.”
    â€œAnd Sullivan?”
    â€œMy dad is Irish. He’s a foot taller than my mom is, but there’s no doubt she rules that relationship. They met in Singapore, had me in Hong Kong, and now live outside of Seattle.”
    â€œWow, you’re a veritable international male. How did you end up in Crimson Bay?”
    â€œI love Seattle, but I also like sunshine. Outside of lecturing, I do on-demand profiling work with law enforcement agencies up and down the coast, and Crimson Bay is centrally located and laid back enough to suit my tastes and inspire me to write. Besides, Herscher University has a renowned Human Sexualities Studies program. Are you from here?”
    Nadia drew a slow breath, captivated by the way he stroked her hand and focused on her as if no one else surrounded them. “I grew up in Sacramento and San Francisco until I decided to go to culinary school. Then I studied with pastry chefs in Paris, chocolatiers in Belgium, and finally landed a gig in Los Angeles.”
    Their drinks arrived. Kane asked the waiter to return in a few minutes, and then focused on her again. “So why move here from Los Angeles?”
    She fiddled with the stem of her glass, and then gave him a direct stare. “After getting out of rehab a few years ago, Siobhan and I decided we needed out of LA. She has family not far from here, and my folks are less than a two-hour car ride away. So we came here, sank all our money into the café, and finally we’re doing all right.”
    He stared at her a long moment. She stared back, daring him to stay, daring him to get up and walk out. She wasn’t ashamed of her past, not really. If anything, she was ashamed of how long it took to get help and all the people she’d hurt before getting that help.
    He squeezed her hand. “And now you’re wondering if I’m going to cut and run or ply you with questions you don’t want to answer.”
    She blew out a breath. “Something like