The Perfect Ingredient (Dare Valley) by Ava Miles

butts.”
    “I expect you would,” Terrance murmured from behind her, his mouth close to her ear, under the pretext of helping her into her seat like a gentleman.
    Something he definitely wasn’t.
    To torture him, she leaned back just a fraction and angled her neck to the left, exposing her nape, which he’d loved to kiss and use his teeth on. Hearing him clear his throat put the first smile on her face since she’d arrived.
    “I’ll have my staff bring in the appetizers.”
    “You know,” Rhett drawled, “my mama always says ‘don’t start a fire you can’t put out.’ My mama is a wise woman, Natalie.”
    Everyone knew whom he was really addressing, but Natalie nodded gamely and said, “My mom always tells us not to bite off more than we can chew. What did your mom tell you, Elizabeth?”
    “My mom wasn’t into sayings like that when I was growing up.”
    Elizabeth’s mom had never given her words of wisdom, only cruel taunts. How she had delighted in proving her wrong over and over.
    Pretty girls aren’t smart. By fifteen, she’d won the North American Open Chess Championship and came away with sixty thousand in winnings, adding to her college fund.
    You’ll never amount to anything. She’d been accepted into Harvard after vowing to attend the best university in the United States.
    Better land a rich Harvard boy fast and get pregnant so he’ll take care of you. She’d made her own millions as Rhett’s poker scout and invested it wisely, using all she’d learned at Harvard.
    Elizabeth had remade herself at Harvard.
    In the beginning, she hadn’t fit in. She was a sexy blond, and some people couldn’t see past her looks and lack of polish. But someone had been looking out for her, because the conservative Jane Wilcox had been assigned as her roommate. Under her new friend’s guidance, Elizabeth cultivated her manners, dyed her hair brown to counter all the dumb blond comments, and bought more conservative clothing.
    Ultimately, becoming Vixen had simply been a matter of putting on a new mask, one she welcomed, enjoyed, and sometimes exploited. If men were stupid enough to underestimate her, she was all too willing to play them.
    But then Terrance came along and upended her world, making her want to unmask herself.
    Until the night he punched someone.
    Vince hadn’t seemed possessive or scary in the beginning, even though she’d sensed an air of violence in him. Terrance possessed that same volatile air. He was jealous of the men who leered at her, the ones she played by batting her eyelashes as she carefully deconstructed their poker strategies.
    His show of violence had been enough to send the dark part of her, perpetually scared and wounded from Vince, running as if her life still depended on it.
    As Terrance strolled in with two assistants, the air of danger around him was still tangible. He was angry with her, and their impromptu connection over dessert the other night, a momentary truce, seemed to have dissolved like meringue dropped in water.
    Terrance stood behind her again, but she didn’t know if it was because he couldn’t stand to see her face, or if he wanted to smell the Chanel perfume she wore—the one that used to drive him crazy.
    “I spoke to Jane and Matt about their favorite dishes—” Terrance told them, handing out card stock embossed with The Grand’s logo, “—so I created selections that I think will suit them. Rhett suggested we do tasting cards, so everyone can rate the dishes and leave any comments. That way, everyone can enjoy the food without debating the choices. He figured it would save you some heartburn.”
    Rhett was probably worried she’d tear one of the dishes apart out of frustration. He wasn’t necessarily wrong. She wanted to either fight with Terrance or tear off his chef jacket and pants and make love to him until she screamed—she wasn’t sure which.
    “Beef skewers served with horseradish cream,” he said in a silky tone as he pointed to