I sigh, giving in. “If you’re done trying to convince me to sell my soul, get out of my office.” I nod toward the door. “I have important business to handle.”

He raises a brow. “Oh, you mean talk to Kerry?”

Guilty as charged.

I don’t answer. I just glance down at the tablet in front of me like I suddenly forgot how to read.

He exhales, all dramatic. “You’re lucky I like her. Otherwise, I’d drag your lovesick ass outta here myself.”

I look up. “Meaning?”

Hudson shakes his head. “Meaning this little charade. It’s got an expiration date, my guy. And when it hits? You’re gonna be sick in a whole different way.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

He turns, deadpan. “Fine, don’t believe me. But if I see one more blog post, selfie, or paparazzi pic of y’all at brunch with matching smiles and touching foreheads, I’m exposing your asses myself.”

I laugh.

He points at me. “Tell your woman I said hello. I’ll run the meeting while you finish pretending you’re not already planning your life with her. You’re welcome.”

Hours later, after chatting with the girls and stealing moments with Kerry, I sit at my desk and actually get work done. I craft recipe after recipe.

It’s been a while since I’ve been this inspired. Kerry’s been pushing me to stretch beyond my recipe palette and even go back to my roots. I’m almost done with the entire menu, and I can’t wait to cook each dish for her.

Shortly after, my phone rings, and it’s a video call from Kerry.

I answer without looking up. “Hold on for a second; I’m almost done with this masterpiece of a recipe. You’re my muse, Kerry Kind.”

I hear her soft laugh, but before she can respond, there’s a knock at my door.

“Come in.” I say absently, still buried in my notes.

Then, a bright, cheery voice rings through my office, “Well, hello, Chef Grimes! It’s so nice to see you again!”

I finally look up and immediately do a double-take. Standing in my office is a woman whose face demands attention. She has deep brown skin, long legs, and curves that damn near defy physics, wearing a strategically fitted, unbuttoned blouse that accentuates her firm, full breasts. Her skirt is so damn tight I can barely breathe just looking at it.

However, no matter how attractive she may be, only the word “Again?” trails from my mouth.

She beams. “Yes, again. I’m your new co-host, Krista Ray.”

A bit taken aback, I stand to shake her hand, but she doesn’t wait. She glides around my desk like we’re long-lost lovers and positions herself so close that I can practically feel the heat radiating off her skin.

Then, she does the unthinkable. She flirtatiously drags her manicured nail down my chest.