A Taste of Sin by Fiona Zedde Page A

on the floor, but just enough to make her grind her teeth in annoyance.
    Nuria laughed. “She’s just doing that to get under your skin, baby. I hope you haven’t been gone so long that you forgot how much she loves to do that.”
    “Just like the annoying sister I didn’t want.”
    Nuria sucked her teeth. “Where are those potatoes that she was talking about?”
     
    Dez hid in the kitchen for as long as she dared. A party was definitely going on in her mother’s living room. She could hear the low contralto of Derrick’s girlfriend mixing with her brother’s low baritone. Eden, her mother’s best friend and colleague from the university, came an hour ago and was circulating easily among the mostly younger crowd. She and Claudia laughed often, usually in response to something Rémi or Nuria said. She didn’t envy her mother that laughter, just the source of it. Dez basted the hens one last time and turned down the fire under the gravy. As she was straightening up from the oven, she felt another presence in the kitchen. She turned around.
    “Hello.” A woman stood just inside the kitchen door. “Your friend Rémi sent me in here to tell you to come out and play.” She held up a glass of Irish cream in a frosted glass. “This is for you.”
    Tall, teak, and lovely. A smile tickled the corner of Dez’s mouth. Rémi, you troublemaker. She slid off the oven mitts and dropped them on the cluttered counter.
    “And you are?”
    “Trish. Derrick invited me.”
    Of course. Despite her teasing, Derrick always did have great taste in women. The absent Miss Jackson was ample proof of that. And Trish wasn’t bad either. Dez accepted the glass of liqueur and took a sip. “Thanks. I’d hate for you to come sweat in this hot kitchen for nothing.” She gestured ahead of her. “Shall we?” She didn’t bother to look away from the enticing glide of ass and hips under Trish’s copper and cream dress as she walked ahead of her.
    When they came out of the kitchen, Rémi winked at Dez from across the room. Nuria shook her head, discreetly wagging her finger at them both.
    “The other chef has emerged from the kitchen,” her mother announced. “Does that mean everything is ready?”
    “Almost. Give it about another hour or two.”
    Rémi, the bottomless pit, groaned the loudest about the delay. “Are you trying to starve us?”
    “I’m sure you can find something to occupy your time until the food is ready.” Dez glanced at her brother. She bet that he could think of a couple of things to do with that hot little number he brought home. Too bad he didn’t believe in sharing.
    “If anyone brought suits, there’s always laying out by the pool,” their freshly tanned mother suggested.
    “I didn’t bring a suit, but I’m definitely for laying out.” Everyone looked at Nuria. “What? God didn’t give me anything that I’m ashamed of.”
    “I have some bathing suits in the guest bathroom down the hall. There is enough of an assortment in size that everyone should be well provided for.”
    “We’ll keep that in mind, Mother,” Derrick said. He didn’t seem wedded to the swimming idea at all.
    “Ah, well. There are worse things to do besides what we’re doing now.” Nuria sipped her vodka on the rocks from the arm of the brown leather sofa and dimpled prettily at Derrick and Trish.
    Eden intercepted Nuria’s suggestive glance and the younger woman blushed. Against her will, Dez felt herself starting to relax. The Irish cream mellowed her enough to be nice to her brother and his date, but not enough to invite the petite woman in the kitchen for a quickie. She could see Nuria already considering that route, only with Derrick invited along for the ride, too.
    “How are you doing, love?” Claudia asked, sitting beside Dez on the overstuffed love seat. “You seem pensive.”
    “More like maudlin, really.” She smiled at her mother to let her know that she was at least partly joking. “But I’m fine.