Chef on Chef (Spice It Up)

Chef on Chef - 1

Chef on Chef: Basil

Julia Talbot

Chapter One "And… cut!" Kierny let the smile slip off his face, his fingers automatically unbuttoning the neck of his chef's whites. Bloody hell, he hated scripted commercials. Hated them. He was so much more comfortable if they let him do his own thing, whether cooking or instructing. His agent was turning into a real twat. Hawking chicken stock, for fuck's sake. What the hell was the world coming to when doing TV was more important than what went into his food?

"That's it," he told the director. "I hope you have enough to use. I'm done."

"What? Wait. I have at least two more concepts I want to try."

His eyebrow went up. It was his trademark move, after all. "Which one did you pitch to the

network?"

"The one we just shot!" The little man's beard gyrated wildly. "But I wanted…"

"Thank you." He turned on his heel and walked away, stripping off his blouse, needing to feel

some air. The dressing room they had provided him was more a closet, so he'd be better off

grabbing his kit out of there and heading for the loo.

A hard body slammed into his just as Kierny turned to go to the bathroom, leaving him

staggering.

"Sorry about that." The man steadied him with one hand, halting his momentum.

Kierny ground his teeth. He knew that voice. Tyler McMurphy, up-and-coming celebrity chef

and utter sell-out. Fucker.

"Me, too. I'd just as well not seen you."

"Ah. Kierny. What a pleasant surprise. What are you doing here?"

"Taping an advert. You?" He raised his brow again, knowing that it made Tyler crazy that he

could let only one rise.

Tyler just smiled. "Doing a promo spot for the network. You know, like you used to do before

you started slinging soup."

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The urge to remind Tyler that he'd been a boxer once was so strong for a moment that he could

scare resist. "I have a meeting. Good day."

"Wait." Tyler's hand landed on his bare shoulder, and the feel of skin on skin made him jump,

made all manner of images best left in the past rise in his mind.

"What?" he snarled, impatient to be out of the building altogether.

"Since I have you here, I guess I ought to warn you."

"Warn me of what?" The tone, the words, they were all quite ominous. Tyler seemed truly

hesitant to continue. Not like the lad at all.

"The network threw a terrible idea at my agent the other day. I have no doubt they'll approach

yours, too."

He shrugged Tyler's hand off his shoulder. "In regards to?"

"They want us to do a cook-off. You and me."

"A cook-- Well, you can tell them the same thing I'm telling you."

Tyler tilted his head. "What's that?"

"Fuck off."

It felt good to say it and walk away. Really good. Possibly better than it ever had felt to have

Tyler suck him off in the walk-in.

Maybe he'd be able to convince himself of that. Someday.

*** Kierny Sullivan was still hot as a grease fire. The man's skin still felt smooth and warm, the hair on that stocky chest still a deep ginger color. Tyler sighed, trying to shake off the shock of touching Kierny after all these years. It was difficult as hell, because he could remember the way other parts of Kierny felt, could remember exactly what that clipped, almost Irish voice sounded like when Kierny called his name during orgasm. He'd been so young then. An aspiring chef who had just clawed his way up from prep to sous chef, Tyler had been damned taken with the dashing and commanding Kiernan. Fuck, he

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sounded like a romance novel. He'd wanted the man, pure and simple. Tyler had set out to get

what he wanted.

Jesus, what a ride it had been. And in the end, what a cluster fuck.

The first time someone had praised Tyler's duck-fat fried something over Kierny's duck and pan

gravy, there had been an explosion, a clash of titan egos that had never recovered. It'd only been

downhill from there.

Why did Kierny still have to be so fucking pretty?

There had been a lot of other problems, a lot of which Tyler could lay at his own door.

"Mr. McMurphy? The director is ready for you."

"Right." Shaking off his thoughts, Tyler smiled, clapping his hands. "Where do you need me?"

They were halfway through the commercial, which had Tyler tossing carrots in a ridiculously hot

pan, before he saw Kierny. The man stood behind a boom, wearing jeans and a T-shirt that had

some sort of firehouse symbol on it.

Kind of made him want to growl and ask what Kierny was doing hooking up with firemen.

"Tyler, sir? Could you focus on the camera?"

"Huh?" His head snapped around, and Tyler cursed himself for the biggest fool out there. Damn

that man, deliberately distracting him when he was fucking working.

"Sorry. We need that last bit one more time. I just need to make sure you're with us."

"Sure. Sure." He glanced up one more time, but Kierny was gone.

Asshole. Why in hell did the man have to be so damned pretty?

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Chapter Two Once upon a time, Kierny had loved working in front of the camera. He'd love the ego boost that came with flaming up a brandy reduction and having the whole crew ooh and ahh. Now? Well, now he had make-up artists telling him not to frown; it gave him terrible forehead wrinkles. Tyler would call them want lines, and laugh when he protested, saying it was a Southern thing. Kierny had learned all about the capital S in Southern when they were together; Tyler had been very definite about that. Damn his eyes, Tyler had no right bringing it all back up, throwing a cook-off into the mix like it wouldn't be the worst idea in a long history of mistakes. "Would you please sit still!"

Kierny snapped, his hands coming up to push the little girl away. "Stop it this instant. I've had all

I can take of your puttering and fussing."

The little girl's bottom lip quivered, and her eyes welled with the most amazing crocodile tears.

"They said you were an asshole. I just thought you were so hot!"

Then she flounced off.

Well.

That had gone well. He was acting like a right bastard, but he didn't know how to stop. A cook-

off, for God's sake. His agent had mentioned it the day before, casually, like Kierny would

consider it at all. Bastards. It was bad enough he didn't love the camera anymore, and yet they

stuck him out there. Now they wanted to stick him out there with Tyler fucking McMurphy.

The assistant director came over, her carefully plucked brows rounded into perfectly surprised

arches. "Kierny? Are you all right? Amy says you, er, had an issue?"

"She was poking about at my face. I don’t need that much help, do I?" He didn't need to hear it,

but she would tell him he looked twenty years younger than his thirty-eight.

He didn't.

"Of course not. You know it's just because of the lights. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

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Best to just get it over with. Forty minutes of film to fill an hour-long spot, and this was his in the kitchen show, without a live audience. At least that meant no one would cloud his takes with idle chatter or cell phones going off. Fifteen minutes later he had chicken roulade wrapped in bacon sizzling away in a pan, with pistachios and sausage inside. The smell was lovely, and he would deglaze the pan with some red wine, even though conventional wisdom said he should use white. He loved a hearty red with the bacon. Cooking was still a joy. Kierny smiled at the camera and worked very hard to remember that he

was grateful he was where he was.

Because truly, he had a damned good life.

"Could you turn to the left just a tiny bit, sir?"

Angling his body, Kierny ignored his agent, who was suddenly on set and staring, only breaking

off to look at his watch. Damn.

His good mood evaporated as quickly as the wine, but Kierny kept at it gamely, powering through the last fifteen minutes of veg and sorbet. When the director yelled that it was a wrap, Kierny poured himself a glass of the dry red and took a fortifying sip. "Great show, Kierny," Bill Tyron said, smiling his bluff smile. They'd been working together for a decade, and Kierny had never before dreaded seeing the man.

"Thank you. I didn't expect to see you today." He eyed Bill with jaundice, and the man had the

good grace to flush a little.

"I know. I imagine you know why I'm here, too."

"Tyler McMurphy's people wish to meet about the cook-off?"

"It's for charity, Kierny. Did anyone mention that?"

"No." Sighing, he sipped at his wine one more time before grabbing a towel and beginning to

wipe off the camera make-up. "Which one?"

"Dream Come True. There's a sick kid who really wants to spend some time with you."

Bill wasn't lying. The man met his eyes steadily, which meant he was telling the unvarnished

truth.

Damn.

"That's blackmail, Bill. You know how I feel about Tyler."

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"I imagine the whole world does, thanks to the paparazzi. This is a good chance to rectify that

fist fight from last year."

Kierny gave Bill his best wide-eyed innocent look. "I never engage in fisticuffs."

"Uh-huh."

Sadly, Bill had the right of it, as far as the gossip rags were concerned. They had caught a photo

of Kierny and Tyler outside a well-known New York eatery, with Kierny's hand fisted in the

front of Tyler's ever-so-fashionable shirt.

Really, they had just been discussing how Tyler needed to find a different place to eat.

"I think people like the idea of warring chefs."

"Well, then they'll like it even more that you put your animosity to good use and engaged in a

battle of food for a little boy."

He tilted his head. "You have an answer for everything."

Bill grinned and nodded. "I do. Want a latte?"

Ah, now Bill was even trying to keep him from getting fuddled on the wine.

"If you're buying."

"Sure." Clapping him on the shoulder, Bill nodded toward the back of the soundstage. "Go get

street clothes on. I have all the paperwork. You can meet young Sam tomorrow."

Sam. What a solid, sympathetic name for a sick child. The viewers would melt.

Damn his cynical heart.

Looked as if he would have to see Tyler in the studio after all.

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Chapter Three "Tyler! Get your ass over here and go over the ingredient list with me!" His sous chef, Kath, always kept him on his toes. She was a spiky-haired, flannel-wearing harpy, and he adored her. Sometimes her timing wasn't the best, though. Kierny Sullivan had just walked into their rehearsal studio, chef's whites immaculate, stick firmly up his ass. Well, at least he was walking like he had a stick up his ass. "Hold on, babe. I need to go check in with the brass." He trotted over to Kierny, meeting the man in the middle of the big kitchen, along with the program manager. "Kierny." Tyler held out a hand, willing to be civil. Wanting to, in fact. Kierny was still cooking with gas, when it came to having the illusive 'it' factor. "McMurphy." Kierny shook, but then crossed those fairly brawny arms over his chest. All sorts of muscles bulged up, and Tyler tried not to stare. With little success. "Gentlemen." Jamie Shripe was a decent guy, and a good judge of what kind of live cooking competitions would work with the viewing public. "Here's what I'd like today. I want to block out the kitchens, figure out where you're likely to be, where your sous chefs will be. I'll give you an ingredient and you can make one dish. On the day of filming, you'll be making a four course meal. There will be one mandatory ingredient for each course." That was more than fair. Way better than the whole, 'create a whole meal out of one obscure leaf' concept. "How will we be judged?" "Your young diner will be the primary judge, and he'll have a steering panel of three food writers, bloggers, and chefs." "Lovely." Kierny's lip curled. "An infant and a couple of foodie wannabes." "Hey, you're the one who's always going on about how anyone can cook, they just have to have the desire." Tyler remembered that from when he'd first started working for Kierny. It had been a regular refrain. At the time Tyler had thought it was just a line to keep the younger staff members motivated. Reminding them that they were replaceable. Then he'd learned that Kierny really meant it. "Am I?" Snorting, Kierny shook his head. "Indeed. Preposterous."

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Oh, asshole. "I'm sure it's on tape somewhere." "Well, part of our job is acting, yes?" That one eyebrow went up and down. "Pretending we care?" Tyler ground his teeth, trying not to smack Kierny right in the face. He'd never pretended to care about the man. That had all been real. Right up to the point where his ambition had gotten the better of him. Then he'd deserved the kick to the curb he'd gotten.

"Right. Well, then, you can act like you have a heart and remember that our youngest judge is

very sick."

Those dark green eyes arrowed in on his, the snapping anger unmistakable. "I think I can

remember that when it's important."

"I'm sure we all can." Jamie looked back and forth between them, eyes bright, and he and Kierny

both backed off. The press had never really gotten wind of the reason behind their animosity, and

he wanted to keep it that way.

"Right." Tyler nodded. "Well, let's get to it, huh?"

"Right," Kierny said, still standing there, arms akimbo.

Asshole always had to have the last word. Still, Tyler had matured enough to turn and walk back

to his station, where Kath waited for him, a little smile curving her thin lips.

"Don’t be a bitch," Tyler murmured, trying to nip her ribbing in the bud.

"What? You two have enough chemistry to set the whole kitchen on fire. I knew you had a

history, but I didn't know you'd fucked."

"Stop it. There are boom mics everywhere." He gave her a sideways glare. "I'll tell you about it later. Now, veg?" "Veg. It will depend on what they give us for a main ingredient, but we have some pretty asparagus…"

Tyler nodded, determinedly not looking at Kierny. "Chef Sullivan hates asparagus."

"Well, there you go."

There you go, indeed. They'd use asparagus, and Tyler would ignore the fact that he knew

Kierny hated asparagus because he didn't like the way it made a man's come taste.

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That wasn't going to help him win any cook-offs. *** Kierny had never been so glad to see the end of a rehearsal. Really, everyone had done well by him, including Tyler, and the whole crew had enjoyed the fruits of their labor. It had been declared an unofficial truce, with Tyler's bloody asparagus chosen as the best single dish of the night. Kierny figured that was what he got for working with straight men and lesbians.

The time clock was blank now, and things were starting to quiet down, the only people still

jabbering the post-production workers.

Tyler was standing just across the long prep counter, laughing with his sous chef, new smile lines creasing his face since the last time Kierny had seen him laugh like that. It was a good look for him, very attractive. All of a sudden Kierny wanted to go back in time, go back to when he had the right to ask Tyler to go home with him and spend some rare downtime drinking wine and wallowing in each other's bodies. The fierceness of his surprised him, and he turned on his heel, looking for a place to hide until he regained his equilibrium. The best place seemed to be the walk-in cooler. Kierny smiled a little when the door slammed closed behind him, the metallic clank sounding like home. How many times had he stormed into the walk in when he was working with Tyler, needing to cool off? Too many, and most of them hadn't been from temper. No indeed. Most of them had been from a

hard-on, just like this one.

The door handle clanked, and steam rose where the cold air met the heat from the kitchen.

"So you remember how I used to follow you in here and suck you off?"

Kierny closed his eyes tight, trying not to see the graphic image that rose in his mind, complete

with sense memory.

"No. What do you want?"

"Well, I was thinking a return engagement, but if you're not into it…"

Oh, he wanted. Shit, yes. But that was a very bad idea.

"What is this about, Tyler? What is it you hope to gain?"

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"What do you mean?" Tyler had the innocent face on, which never worked well with the snapping, almost black eyes and the sweep of raven… oh, fuck that. Black hair. Black soul, too. "Oh, stop the bullshit."

"It's not bullshit." Tyler ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up in swirls and whorls. "I…

I wanted to see you."

"Are you saying you missed me?" Kierny let a smile stretch his mouth. "Oh, good God. That's -well. Preposterous."

"Is it? You remember what you told me, right before I did my big dramatic exit?"

"That it was lonely at the top of the asshole heap?"

Laughing, Tyler nodded. "At the time, I just thought, well, Kierny ought to know. Now I know

what you meant."

"Lovely." What on earth did that mean? "So. What exactly am I supposed to do?"

"This." Stepping close, Tyler raised one square, scarred hand and wrapped it around the back of

Kierny's head, pulling him close to kiss him square on the mouth.

Tyler had always made Kierny tingle with a single kiss, but this? This was a work of art. Even in

the coolness of the walk in, it curled his toes, and made his softening cock harden again in an instant. His belly tightened, his breath stuttered in his chest, and just when Kierny would have pushed Tyler away, the man let him go so suddenly he staggered. "I want that, Kierny. You have my number. I put my card in your pocket. Call. Please."

With that, Tyler left him, opening and closing the cooler with barely a sound.

All he could do was stand in the cold and stare. It wasn't the audacity that stunned him. Tyler had

always had that. No, it was the need he'd seen in Tyler's eyes. The vulnerability. That Kierny had never seen before.

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Chapter Four Tyler waited three days for Kierny to call.

Three days of thinking about how stupid he'd been to show his ass like that. Three days of

wishing he hadn't given Kierny the upper hand. Hell, he'd spent three days knowing he had no

real right to worry about his ego when he'd been so fucking needy.

God, he wished Kierny would call.

Finally, Tyler picked up the phone and called his one friend in the celebrity chef crowd. "Hey,

Alan. I need a favor."

Alan was actually Alain Saulnier, a classically trained French chef who claimed almost as many

restaurant credits as he did illegitimate children. He preferred the Americanized name, blue

jeans, and really big fish to red meat.

"What sort?"

"I need you to take my place in a celebrity cook off." Usually Tyler was all about charity, but it

was Kierny who the kid had asked for, and Tyler had just jumped at the chance to see the bastard

again. Alan would be just as big a draw.

"Against who?"

"Kierny Sullivan."

"Ah. Well, he will beat me. He appeals more to the, er, less than sophisticated palate of the usual

judges."

It was pretty hard to miss the irony in Alan's voice. Not everyone admired Kierny quite as much as Tyler did. He tended to think it was jealousy. "Will you do it? It's for the Dream Come True people."

"Ah. Much better to have a Frenchman as the bad guy, eh? If you can get the contract transferred

I will see if it fits my schedule."

"Thanks, man. I owe you one."

"You owe me several, but who am I to count, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah."

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They hung up, and Tyler picked up the phone to call his manager. They would get Alan to do the cook-off and Mr. I Won't Call Kierny would never have to see Tyler again. It had been an incredibly stupid plan to begin with. *** "He what?"

Kierny stared at Bill, trying to keep his mouth from hanging open. He was sure it would be

unattractive, considering that he had latte tongue. Bill was rather fond of his triple mocha, and

insisted on business meetings at coffee shops.

"He backed out. Got Alain Saulnier to do it."

Bloody hell. Tyler McMurphy had backed out of the cook-off. The dirty little bastard. If Kierny

had to fucking do it, so did Tyler.

"Then it's off. I won’t do it. I'll take Sam, it is Sam, yes? I'll take him to the restaurant, maybe to

the set of my show." Kierny flapped a hand. "Arrange it."

"Whoa, now. It's not that easy, K. The network has shelled out a good bit on this already."

"Then have them sue Tyler for breach of contract. I won't do it without him."

"But you said you don't like Tyler…"

Kierny slapped a hand down on the table, making nearby people jump. "I know what I said!

Damn it, Bill, stop trying to play me."

"I'm not." Bill sat back in his chair, one hand flipping the plastic lid from his coffee cup over and

over in circles. "You fought me hard on this one and now you won’t let someone else do it?"

"No, I won't." Kierny let his chin jut out. "I don't have to be reasonable."

Laughing, Bill nodded. "Well, that's true enough. Okay, I'll call his people, tell them it's not

cool."

"Thanks, Bill."

An hour later, Kierny was on his way home for some much needed space, the CD player in the

car pumping out AC/DC. His fingers tapped on the steering wheel, his head bobbed, and he thought he was perfectly all right with the world until he found himself reaching for his mobile phone. Naturally, he'd programmed Tyler's number into it already.

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Sighing, Kierny gave in to the inevitable and hit the voice command button on his hands free.

"Call Tyler."

The phone beeped and booped, then rang, and he almost hung up. The only thing that kept him

from doing it was that he wanted to give Tyler a piece of his mind.

"Hello?"

Ah, Tyler had given him a personal number. Perfect. "McMurphy. How dare you try to weasel

out on me."

"What? Who… Kierny?" The utter disbelief in Tyler's voice was a little deflating.

"Yes. You can't back out on the charity deal."

"Why not? You don't want me to do it, and the kid wants you."

"There's a contract." It sounded so silly to say that, but it was the best thing he could come up

with.

"Well, whoop-dee-doo." The drawl in Tyler's voice became far more pronounced.

"Tyler…"

"I tell you what, Kierny. You come to my place to talk on it, and maybe I'll stay in."

"Your place -- are you mad?" No. That was absolutely out of the question.

"Nope. Face to face or not at all." Tyler rattled off an address and rang off, making Kierny grind

his teeth.

Before he forgot the address, though, he punched it into his GPS.

"Little prick," Kierny muttered, even while he followed the directions the tinny little voice

spouted at him.

"Turn left," the car answered. *** The doorbell rang about twenty minutes after Kierny got off the phone, and goose bumps rose all

over Tyler's body.

"Probably the UPS man," he murmured, trying to steel himself for disappointment.

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He couldn't help but hope that Kierny was pissed enough, or maybe interested enough, to come see him, even if it was to cuss him out in person. He wanted a lot more than that, but people in hell wanted ice water, too. When Tyler opened the door, though, it was Kierny in the flesh, staring at him with furious green eyes. "Hey," Tyler said. "I bet you were out with Bill, so you don’t want coffee."

"No, I don't want bloody coffee. Let me in." Brushing past him, Kierny left his heart thumping,

just from the tiny brush of arm on chest.

"Gin and tonic? Coke?" Tyler followed, hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for Kierny.

"Neither." Whirling around, Kierny poked him in the chest. "What are you playing at?"

"I told you, I'm not playing. I want you." There. Bald. Honest. Kierny probably wouldn't believe

it.

"It's a shell game, isn’t it? If I pick the right one, I get a prize? If I don't…"

"You're a cynical bastard."

"I am." Kierny smiled, but it was more barracuda than happy puppy. "You helped make me that

way."

"Oh, bullshit." Tyler exploded into motion, pacing back and forth, hands waving. "You fucking

expected me to betray you, every moment of every day. Shit, you dared me to. You were a

goddamned self-fulfilling prophecy."

He finally got the reaction he wanted. Both perfectly shaped eyebrows went up, and Kierny's

mouth fell open. "Wait. Can you be… Are you blaming this on me?"

"This meeting? No. Our breaking it off? No. Some of the events that led up to both? Yes." Tyler

was too honest to blame it all on Kierny. He really was.

"I cannot believe you think for one moment that I. That you. Oh!"

God, that was cute. Kierny was all red-faced, looking like he was going to start stomping the

floor, or maybe punching Tyler in the gut. Now was the time to move in.

"So, why did you come?"

"What?"

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Keeping Kierny off guard was the only way to go. He had to keep those green eyes wide, had to keep the man from getting a handle on the situation. "Why did you come to my house, if you think I'm the root of all evil?" "To let you know that, naturally. All done now." Turning on his heel, Kierny made for the door. Tyler caught one muscular bicep. "No." No way was Kierny getting away. It was crazy; the world felt upside down, but Tyler was going to hold on and make the man give them both what they wanted. Staring at his hand, cheeks hot, Kierny murmured, "No?" Reeling the man in was easier than Tyler expected. "No. You knew what I wanted when you showed up. You can't deny it. So, I say you stay." The muscles under his hand tensed, but Kierny didn't pull away. This close, Tyler could smell the man, and Kierny smelled like cinnamon and cloves, mixed with smoke and male musk. Fuck, it was a good thing. Like they'd choreographed it, Kierny turned, mouth open, no doubt to tell him off. Tyler pulled, stepping in, and the next thing he knew they were kissing, his tongue pushing right into Kierny's mouth. Their lips mashed together hard enough to sting, a nice contrast to the soft, damp slide of his tongue against Kierny's. All of a sudden they were like animals, tearing at their clothes, both of them grunting every time a piece of skin was exposed. Kierny touched Tyler like he was starving, like Tyler was a gourmet last meal. Fucking heady. This was just how he remembered it. Just what he needed. When his shirt was off and his jeans open, Tyler stepped back just enough to attack Kierny's pants. Then he slid to the floor on his knees, grinning up. "Hope you're still clean." "Ty--Christ!" Kierny's hips bucked when Tyler pulled his cock out, working it up and down. That skin was still incredibly silky, hot and thin, a little bumpy around the head. Tyler touched for a long moment, relearning, loving the extra skin of an uncut cock. His thumb rubbed up and down and around before he pushed the foreskin back and licked the head of Kierny's cock, seeing if the man still tasted as spicy as he used to. Damn. Oh, damn, he was gonna be lost all over again. Kierny tasted like home, smelled like heaven, and when those big hands landed on his head to hold him still, Tyler knew he was in for it. Breathing through his nose, he held Kierny's hips in his hands and opened up his throat, letting Kierny fuck his face.

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"Tyler. God in heaven. You still… your mouth." Kierny said all that and more, praising his skill, telling him how hot he was, finally degenerating into, "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck." Sucking harder, Tyler pushed Kierny to the edge before pulling down on those heavy balls, keeping the man teetering, feeling the crackling danger of what he was doing. "I swear to God, if you don't let me come, I will kill you." Hands tightening like a band of steel, Kierny pulled at him, hips pumping, and Tyler let go and went all the way down, asking for everything Kierny had to give. Kierny came for him, hot and wet and so salty it was like drinking seawater. Man, someone needed to back off the salt shaker before they had a heart attack. When it was over, Tyler sat back on his heels and grinned. "Well, at least you weren't eating asparagus." "What?" Staring down at him with dazed eyes, Kierny grunted. "Oh. I hate asparagus." "I know." Tyler had forgotten all about his cock while he was sucking, but now it occurred to him that Kierny was right there, half naked, all those ripped muscles on display. "'Scuse me." Leaning back, he worked his cock out of his open jeans and started stroking. "Oh, I think I can help with that." Kierny sank to the floor and pushed him back, hand closing around him. He had to say that when Kierny committed to something, the man went all the way, no backing down. Tyler jerked, his cock jumping, pre-come beading up at the tip. God. Oh, God. If Kierny would just suck him. Lick him. Kiss him, even on the mouth. The last wish came true in seconds, Kierny leaning close, pressing their chests together. That slightly bruised mouth crashed down on his, Kierny fucking Tyler's mouth as surely with his tongue as he had with his cock. Moaning, Tyler humped hard, his knees digging into the floor. His skin felt tight, hot, like he was burning up from the inside out, and the pressure in his balls was almost unbearable. It didn’t take long. When Kierny reached out and pinched Tyler's nipple, hard just like he liked, his hips rocked, and Tyler came. Like a ton of bricks. Man, he hadn't had an orgasm that wasn't self-induced in… Jesus, had it been two years? He'd bet Kierny wouldn't believe it. They panted together for a moment, kneeling there and staring at one another. Then Kierny rocked to his feet, closing buttons and zippers, hands clumsy.

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"How stupid can I be?"

Tyler loved the way Kierny said 'stew-pid'.

"I don't know. I've been less than bright lately, so I may not be the guy to ask."

"I can tell." Sighing, Kierny ran a hand through his hair. "I would go for that drink, now."

Well, at least the man wasn't just running away. Tyler climbed to his feet, straightening himself

out as best as he could. "What would you like?"

"I'll take a gin and tonic, if you have it."

Like he wouldn't have a well-stocked liquor cabinet. "Sure. Not too early for it?"

"Not at this point, no." Kierny gave him a ghost of a grin, hands spreading. "Liquid courage

seems appropriate."

They shared a chuckle, and Tyler poured drinks. A Scotch and soda for him, a gin and tonic for

Kierny. They settled at opposite ends of Tyler's giant leather sofa, staring at each other in an awkward silence. "Still have your dog?" Tyler finally asked, thinking how the monstrous mastiff would eat his couch and love every moment of it. Hell, he'd been thinking of the damned mutt when he'd bought it. "Actually, I have three now. Another mastiff and a bloodhound."

"A bloodhound?" Wow. He'd always wanted one of those. "That seems unexpectedly… Southern

of you."

"Does it?" The tips of Kierny's ears went red. "I got him off Craigslist. It was an impulse."

Oh, God. The idea of Kierny surfing the web late at night thinking of him was unbearably

arousing. His cock threatened to rise again, just like that. Boom. Tyler sipped his drink to calm

down, the Scotch burning all the way down. Better. The shock of it did him some real good.

"So." Tyler took another sip.

"So." Kierny raised that infernal brow.

"I don't know what to say to you right now." What the hell was he supposed to do? Beg the man

to stay? Talk about the weather?

"Did you set the whole charity cook-off up, Tyler?"

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"No." He met those green eyes head on, knowing he could tell the truth about this, at least. "Did I grab it with both hands when the chance came? Hell, yes." "Why? I still simply don’t understand why."

Tyler stared. He did that a lot around Kierny. He always had. "Kier. Don't be stupid. We were

good together." He waved a hand. "We still are."

"Physically, yes."

"We had fun, too. Hanging out. We just let ego get in the way. Tell me you have someone else

and you're happy, and I'll back off."

Kierny's face went blank. "I won’t lie to you, Tyler. But I think this is a bad, bad idea."

"Because you let me in once, and you're afraid to do it again?"

"No. Because I loved you once, and losing you again would destroy me."

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Chapter Five Kierny had driven away from Tyler's with shaking hands, taking each corner and light a little too carefully. Between the booze and the sex and the fun game of revelations, he was a wreck, and he didn't want to be in one, literally. It was all just a bit too much. Now, sprawled on the couch with his dogs, Kierny felt more in control, more able to deal with the situation. If there was actually a situation to deal with. Really, who said that he had to think about it, entertain the idea, just because Tyler wanted it? Did the world revolve around Tyler? The bloodhound, Murphy, licked his toes and groaned. No, clearly the world revolved around his dogs' need for treats. Finally, Kierny simply decided not to let it get to him. He would do the show. He would be cordial, friendly, even. Surprise the suits by not engaging in a battle of epic proportions. Then, when the show was over, Kierny would shake Tyler's hand and tell the man he had thought about it, and decided it wasn't going to happen. It wasn't healthy. It wasn't a good professional move… Too bad their sexual chemistry still threatened to melt and fuse his brain cells. There was also the need, the openness he'd seen in Tyler, which was new. Combined with the fact that he'd always actually liked the man, well, it was almost enough to make him forget what had happened. They'd both been in such different places in life. Kierny could understand ambition. What he couldn't understand was why he'd be so bloody stupid as to do this all over again. Sighing, he pushed the dogs off his legs and got up to go and put food in their bowls. Then he poured himself a glass of wine and pondered leftover duck. It wasn't like him at all to dither. He'd made up his mind. Kierny would go do the charity thing and tell Tyler no. That was that. *** Kierny was going to tell him to fuck off. Tyler saw it in the set of Kierny's iron jaw when the man walked into the studio. Polite, perfectly reasonable, Kierny smiled and nodded at everyone, congenial as you please. Even to Tyler. That was just a bad sign.

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When they had blocked everything out and were ready to meet the Dream Come True kid, they called a break. Tyler took it as a sign, and hunted Kierny's ass down. In the damned walk in.

He nodded at Kath and jerked his head toward the cooler. She just grinned at him and made a

universal signal for getting busy. Tyler rolled his eyes, ignoring her and following Kierny.

The door clacked shut behind him before Tyler spoke. "We meet again."

"In the cooler." Kierny turned, arms crossed. "What is it this time?"

"Wow, you're so nice."

"Tyler, I am here. Doing the show. What more do you want?"

"Hey, I'm here, too, and trust me, Alan Saulnier was willing to take my place."

"Well, bully for you."

"Kierny."

"No. That's my answer, Tyler." Kierny shook his head firmly, briskly, like that was that.

Which was just bullshit. Tyler stepped up close, invading Kierny's space and feeling a huge jolt

of déjà vu. They'd kissed just this way, what? A week ago?

"I don't accept that." Their chests bumped, and Tyler tried not to show how it made him catch his

breath. "I think you're scared."

"Well, of course I am!" Kierny bellowed it, and something clattered to the floor just outside the

cooler door. "I told you why!"

"Come to supper with me after the show." Tyler kept his voice low, taking Kierny's hand

between his. "Please?"

Kierny frowned, want lines springing up on his forehead. "I don't…"

"Don’t think. Say yes. I won't let you walk away and not give me a chance."

Dark green eyes sought his, Kierny searching for something. Tyler wasn't sure what. It seemed

that Kierny found it, though, because he nodded. "All right. Supper."

Oh, God. He hadn't known he was so tense, waiting for that answer. "Good. I'll meet you by the

dressing rooms."

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"Fine." Turning on his heel, Kierny walked out, the door slamming defiantly behind him.

Tyler grinned, hope popping up like a little weed in his heart. Kierny had said yes.

That was a step in the right direction.

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Chapter Six Kierny put the finishing touches on his blueberry pancake and sausage roll, drizzling it with a little maple syrup and a puff of powdered sugar. Despite what they'd done in their rehearsal run, their theme was 'breakfast foods', which was Sam's favorite thing. Sam had turned out to be a delightful child, with a sense of humor that belied his age and his adversity. He had a great love for sausage, bacon and all other things pork fat, and an even greater love of flames, so Kierny had indulged the lad with crepes Suzette. The producer had almost had kittens when the flames shot nearly three feet toward the ceiling. That had gotten him a spate of giggles, though, Sam pointing and exclaiming with delight. The judges were not so thrilled with it, but he hoped they would be more excited about the actual food. Tyler had been in his element the whole time, laughing and joking, stirring and flipping. He'd made pancakes as well, with honey and cinnamon and apples. There was homemade sausage going on, and something with eggs, which was green. Kierny wasn't worried. He had his version of chocolate cake for breakfast up his sleeve. "Time's up!" the producer shouted. The whole mechanical voice announcing shit would be dubbed in later, something most people didn't know. Kierny slid the plate across the stainless steel counter for it to be noted and photographed. Then he went to plating the other portions, which he was perfectly allowed to do after time was up and the cameras had stopped rolling for the time being. "That looks really cool," Sam said, peering over the counter. "It's really blue." "Thank you. I like a lot of blueberries. You like fruit, yes?" He thought the questionnaire had said so. "I do! It's good for me. Has antioxidants." Kierny hid a smile, looking down to rearrange a garnish or two. "Well, we all need more of those." "I know. Mom says you're Irish, so you probably drink a lot. I bet you need fruit, too." "Your mum has a great opinion of me, huh?" Sam nodded solemnly. "She thinks you're smokin' hot."

Chef on Chef - 23

Oh, good God. He should stop while he was ahead. "I think your fellow judges are waiting for

you, lad."

"Oops!" Flashing him another grin, Sam wobbled off to sit and eat lots of colorful breakfast.

Tyler smiled at him from across the way. "That was great cooking, huh?"

"Yeah. Not bad." There had been moments where he'd forgotten the camera, and that was always

good.

"May the best chef win, huh?"

"May the child not keel over from our food."

Chuckling, Tyler nodded and brought a bottle over, offering him a glass.

"What's this?"

"Sparkling grape." Tyler winked. "It's a kid show. I didn’t want to bring booze."

"Good call." Sparkling grape juice he could do and still get through the judging without saying anything entirely stupid. He hoped. "Thanks. Well. Judges' table?" "Yeah." Rolling his shoulders, Kierny nodded once. "Let's do it." "Then supper." He gave Tyler a sharp look. "I won't run off." "You'd better not." They clinked glasses, Tyler licking his lips after a little drink. Kierny knew he really should run, but he just couldn't. More fool him. *** Tyler shifted from foot to foot, waiting for Kierny to appear. He'd seen the man go into his dressing room, but not come back out. Hopefully the bastard hadn't slipped out the back way. If

he had, Tyler swore he would hunt the man down and…

"Are you ready?"

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He almost broke his neck whirling around. Kierny looked good. Really good, in a pair of dark jeans and a black hoodie. Casual, then. Good thing Tyler had made dinner instead of reservations. "I am. Where are we going?" That eyebrow… One day Tyler was going to shave it off while Kierny slept. "We're going to

your place. I just need to stop by the walk in."

Kierny said not a word, just waited for him to lead the way. He went and collected his portable

cooler and his plastic tub of dessert, curling his arm around it to keep Kierny from seeing what

was inside.

"Do you really expect to go back to mine?" Kierny asked, close on his heels.

"Yes. I'll follow you. And don't try to lose me in traffic. I actually know where you live."

"You what?"

He was glad Kierny couldn't see his smug grin. Tyler knew Kierny had moved less than a year

after their break-up. "Bill," Tyler said. "I asked; he gave me your address."

"I'll fire the rotten son of a bitch."

"Now, now. I convinced him I wanted to send you a potted plant."

"Right."

They hit the parking lot, where only the little valet waited, which was a relief. Occasionally,

autograph seekers would lurk around and leap out when you least expected them. That sucked

big rocks.

"So, are you peeved that I won?" Kierny finally asked, pulling his little door lock clicker out of

his pocket.

“Nope. I figure it makes up for that reviewer who liked my food better than yours all those years

ago.” They were even now, somehow. On level footing.

“I suppose, though that might be the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard.”

“More fucked up than I want to give it another try?”

“Possibly.” The snort that accompanied the single word was eerily familiar. Tyler had heard it a

lot in their short time together.

“Well, there you go.”

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“What on earth does that mean, there you go? I mean, honestly, you Southern people say that as

if it solves everything. It’s meaningless.”

“This from the man who says ‘Bob’s your uncle’.” It was Tyler’s turn to snort. “Here’s me. I’ll

follow.”

Kierny nodded and left him, and Tyler had a moment of panic, where he wanted to chase Kierny down and make the man give him a ride home. Just so they wouldn’t be separated. Tamping right down on it, Tyler loaded the food in his car and settled in. Luckily, Kierny drove sedately, letting Tyler have plenty of space and time. It was an unexpected little kindness, but it warmed him. Gave him hope.

Kierny’s new place was way bigger than the last, none of those stucco and Spanish tile places

that had a courtyard and a wall. Probably an outdoor kitchen and a pool, too.

It also had dogs, and one of them set to baying like a hound from hell the minute Tyler stepped

out of his car. Oh, he’d always wanted a bloodhound. He surely had.

“Sorry about the noise,” Kierny said, meeting him at the garage. “You said you wanted to come

to my house.”

“Shit, babe, you know I like dogs.”

“I know.” Sighing, Kierny led the way, looking a little martyred.

Asshole.

He got the ten cent tour when they stepped inside. “Lounge. Kitchen there. Loo just under the

stairs.”

“Cool. Just let me get in the kitchen with all of this, and I’ll get on making us some supper.”

“Just there. Everything you might need should be there.”

“I remember how you organize your kitchen, so we should be good.” Tyler hauled the cooler in,

deliberately staring Kierny down when he would have followed. “Go see your dogs. Do you lock

them in the garage or something?”

“No.” Kierny gave him a haughty look. They have the entire den. I put in a dog gate.”

“Ah. Protecting the carpet?” There was a lovely Persian in the front room.

“My one leather chair, actually. If I leave them alone with it, they chew it.”

Chef on Chef - 26

After one more glare from Tyler, Kierny actually left to release the dogs, leaving Tyler alone in

the kitchen.

Woo. He’d pre-cooked a lot of it, from the corned beef to the brown bread, but he had to make

up the colcannon, and he needed to finish dessert, which was an amazing trifle. It just needed

some sauce.

Tyler had bought one of Kierny’s cookbooks ages ago, and in the bio, it had told the reader all

about what Kierny wanted for his last meal. All of his traditional favorites were right here, Tyler

figured, including the Harp and the clotted cream.

Kierny came back in maybe twenty minutes later, leading three anxious dogs and sniffing the air.

“Smells good.”

“It ought to. It’s your last meal request.”

“Are you going to kill me now, then?”

“Huh?” Oh, shit. That was probably not too much of a silly question. “Not unless you expire

from sheer bliss.”

“Ah. Well, what can I do?” Kierny had taken off the hoodie, and the T-shirt he wore really

showed off his pecs. Hot, hot, hot.

“Make coffee? I brought some Irish, but I can’t figure out your infernal espresso machine.”

Laughing, Kierny brushed past him, front to his back, and Tyler’s whole body gave a yeehaw his

Mississippi grandfather would have been proud of. He distracted himself by scratching the

hound’s ears.

“What’s his name?”

“Who?” Kienry banged around the coffee machine, muttering.

“The bloodhound.”

“Oh. Um…” Kierny trailed off with an unintelligible murmur.

“What?” He went back to stirring cabbage and potatoes together.

“Murphy.” That back was straight as a board, Kierny carefully not even glancing at him over a

shoulder.

“No shit?” Dude. “You named your hound after me?”

“He was appropriately stupid as a pup.”

Chef on Chef - 27

Tyler cracked up before opening the oven to check on the beef. It was falling apart, and it had a nice amount of moisture in it, so he wasn’t worried about it drying out in there. It just needed to get warm again. “Well, it warms my heart that thought of me at all.” The smell of coffee permeated the room. “I thought of you often. I still do. Too often.” Turning, he glanced over to see Kierny staring at him, now, the oddest expression on his face. It was a tit for tat kind of admission, putting them on a level playing field personally as well as professionally. That worked for him. “That’s good to know,” Tyler finally answered. “Come have supper. It’s time to eat.”

Chef on Chef - 28

Chapter Seven The meal was everything a dying man could hope for in a last supper, and then some. When he’d licked the last vestige of trifle off his spoon, Kierny sat back and groaned.

“That was a peasant meal, Ty. I’m surprised you knew how to do all that. Not a duck or a paté in

sight.

“I know, huh?” Tyler fed a piece of beef to one of the dogs, who had politely moved in on the

man, rightly sensing he was far more of a sucker than Kierny. “I got them out of your books.”

“I can’t believe you bought my books.”

“Every damned one. One I even got out of the clearance bin at Half Price.”

Little shit. Still, it meant this was not so much a spur of the moment impulse for Tyler, this

pursuing him again. It meant Tyler might have thought about him as much as he had Tyler.

“So you liked it?”

“I loved it. More coffee?” What else could he do but offer more to drink? He had no idea where

to go from here.

“Nah.” Tyler leaned back, crossing his legs at the ankle. They’d eaten in the den, on the

comfortable couches, sitting across from each other and talking sports. “I’m good. Mainly I want to ask you something.” “What’s that?”

Dark brown eyes seemed to bore into his. “Can I see you again, after this? Or is this really our

last supper?”

Damnation, Tyler asked the hard questions. “I don’t know. I suppose that depends upon what you hope to gain from all of this. Are you looking for friendship? Companionship? A leg up on a faltering career?” “My career is fine.” Ty grinned, those adorable laugh lines pulling up. “And if it’s not, well, I’ve invested well. I can live off my nest egg for the rest of my life, even if I never step in front of a camera again.” Well. That was certainly not the often careless with cash Tyler McMurphy he’d once known. “Congratulations.”

Chef on Chef - 29

“I learned it from you.” At his incredulous look, Tyler laughed. “Eventually. Maybe it didn’t sink in until after we broke off, but I saw you, and then I saw all those guys like Raine and Sebalt, who are still drinking and whoring at fifty, and I decided I wanted to be stable, have something left when I needed it.” “Then I’m flattered instead of insulted that you call me stable.” Tyler stood and stretched before coming to sit on Kierny’s couch, rather too close for comfort. “There’s no shame in it. You always wanted to have a life outside of the job.” “I did. I do. Damn it, Tyler, why did you have to change?” He’d been ready to hold a bloody grudge for life. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Reaching out, Tyler took his coffee mug and set it aside, grabbing his hands. “I want whatever you’ll give me.” “I’m not sure I have anything left to give.” “I am.” Warm, fond, that look told him he was being an idiot. Tyler stopped the roundabout talking with s simple kiss, lips pressing against Kierny’s. God, it felt good. Amazing, even. This was nothing like the demanding, desperate Tyler of their last encounter. This was a man who had made up his mind about what he wanted and was going after it. The kiss was long, a little damp, and just when Kierny opened his mouth to breathe, Tyler’s tongue swept in, tasting him. Kierny actually jumped, which seemed ridiculous. A few short days ago Tyler had been sucking him off. This kiss seemed far more devastating than that entire orgasm. Tyler pushed him back on the couch, leaning over him as if he was a heroine on the cover of one of those silly romance novels. He could see the title now -- Chef on Chef -- and there would be a Fabio-esque model on the front, chef’s jacket ripped open to show his over-developed chest. “Are you laughing at me?” “No.” Kierny licked his lips, tasting Tyler there. “I was having hysterical romance novel thoughts.” “Yeah? Is your member throbbing?” “No. I don’t have a disease.” That made him laugh out loud, though. “Now I am laughing at you.” “Nope.” Tyler nipped Kierny’s bottom lip. “Now you’re laughing with me.”

Chef on Chef - 30

“True enough. And while I am not throbbing, I am aching.”

“Mmm. Aching is good.” One of Tyler’s hands slid between them and settled on his crotch,

squeezing.

“Very good.” Kierny gasped, arching up, the mood going from light and easy to charged and

needy in seconds.

They moved closer, Tyler stretching out on top of him, body pressing him down against the

couch. One of the dogs whined, licking at his fingers where his hand trailed toward the floor, and

Kierny pushed the silly thing away.

“Look, if we’re going to do this, let’s do it right this time, shall we? Let’s go to bed.”

“Yeah?” Tyler appeared so hopeful that Kierny had to hold back a laugh.

“Yes.”

“You got it.” Tyler sprang up and held out a hand, helping Kierny up.

They locked the dogs out, to much whining and many sad looks, and Kierny pulled his T-shirt

off over his head, determined to stop being a whiny idiot and just take what he wanted.

Tyler came to help him with his jeans, unbuttoning them and sliding them down his legs, cheek

coming to rest against his cock through his briefs.

“God, you smell good.”

“And you feel good. Come on, you next.”

Nodding, Tyler stood and stripped off, looking tanned and buff and quite the most beautiful thing

Kierny had ever seen.

Kierny reached out and touched, his fingers sliding along Tyler’s jaw, then down the long line of

throat to trace a collarbone. Tyler swallowed, the sound strong, Adam’s apple bobbing. Kierny

let his fingers trail down to one tiny, brown nipple, pinching it between forefinger and thumb.

“Christ!” Tyler jumped, hands coming up to rest on Kierny’s shoulders. “Again.”

“Like this?” He pinched again, feeling Tyler’s cock brush against his as it jumped.

“Yeah. Oh, fuck. I’m not sure how much I can take of that, babe.”

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“You’ll take what I give you.” Warming to his exploration, Kierny pushed down along Tyler’s belly, reaching down to grab the swinging cock, running his thumb over the naked head. So different from his. Tyler went up on tiptoe. “Always give me almost too much. Always.” “But never more than you can take.” Grinning, Kierny leaned in to bite Tyler’s shoulder. That had always been so good, listening to the moan that brought out. “More.” “More?” Demanding little bastard. “What do you want?” Tyler’s eyes met his, almost black with need, hot as fire. “Let me suck you while you suck me?” “Mmm. Good idea.” They’d once spent an entire afternoon in a sixty-nine, letting each other just go soft before turning up the heat again. By the time they’d come, they’d both been crazy, on fire for each other, balls sore as anything. They moved to the bed with little ceremony, stretching out face to hips, and Kierny ran his thumbs over the thin, soft skin on Tyler’s hipbones. “Still so pretty.” “Mmm. I love your cock.” That hot mouth sucked him right in, Tyler not hesitating to lick and pull. Kierny returned the favor, licking the tip of Ty’s cock before sucking it in, desperate for the salty-bitter flavor. Yes. Oh, he’d missed this, missed touching someone, having someone need enough to touch him back. The feeling was indescribable, making his balls draw up and threaten to spill too soon. The only sounds were their labored breathing and the wet sounds of mouths on skin. Everything narrowed down to Tyler’s cock in his mouth, Tyler’s balls under his fingers, and oh, God. He might die happy if this was truly his last meal. Pulling hard, Kierny demanded more, pushing his hips against the bed, letting Tyler really have it. He fucked that amazing mouth, and let Tyler fuck his, giving as easily as he took. Or vice versa. Whichever one made him less of a greedy bastard. Oh, who was he kidding? He was fucking greedy and he knew it. His fingers found Tyler’s ass a few moments later, pushing between the tight cheeks to find the tiny hole. Tyler moaned around his cock, tongue working like a mad thing, up and down, rubbing along the big vein there. Kierny shouted, simply too overwhelmed to last any longer. He came hard, trying not to press Tyler into the bed and smother him or something.

Chef on Chef - 32

Seconds later, Tyler returned the favor, shooting hard, filling Kierny’s mouth with seed. Thank

goodness the man had laid off the asparagus. That would have been foul.

They panted together, cheeks resting on thighs, for long moments. Then Kierny lifted his head.

“All right?”

“Yeah.” Tyler patted his ass clumsily. “I’m good. You?”

“I’m working my way to excellent.” He’d be lying if he denied it.

“Cool. You, uh, up for a little snuggle and a nap?”

“Hell, yes.”

That was all Tyler seemed to be waiting for. The man scrambled up and was all over him in

seconds, clinging like an octopus.

“This doesn’t mean anything, you know,” he told Tyler, stroking one hand up and down the long,

strong back. “Not a thing.”

“Right. It just means you’re willing to entertain the idea of us seeing each other.”

“Exactly. You have a lot of ground to make up in the trust department. I may be a sentimental

idiot, but I won’t be as easy to fool this time.”

“Mmm. Good thing I’m not looking to fool you.” Tyler leaned back, met his eyes. “I never really

was out to get you, you know. I was just young, ambitious, and totally unaware that some recipes

need time, measuring, and room to grow into something delicious.”

“Are you going to put that in a cookbook?” He couldn’t help it. That sounded too much like a

line.

“Nope. I think I’ll wait and put it into my biography. Chef on Chef: My Life with Kierny

Sullivan.”

The title had him cracking up. “I was going to write a romance and call it that.”

“Then you’ll have to split the profit with me.”

Oh, here they went again. All about the bottom line. Kierny rolled his eyes. “My work is my

own, Ty. You have to find your own damned way to make your next killing.”

“Okay.” Yawning, Tyler snuggled up against him, bristly chin against his shoulder. “One more

thing.”

Chef on Chef - 33

“What’s that?”

“When I move in, we have to put my couches in the lounge. The dogs will eat them, otherwise.”

“Duly noted.” If Tyler thought he was moving in before there was a great deal more dating and

possibly a good deal of fucking, he was sadly mistaken.

Still, the idea held a great deal more appeal than Kierny might have thought.

Chef on Chef indeed.

End

Chef on Chef - 34

Spice It Up: Chef on Chef © 2009 by Julia Talbot All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680. Printed in the United States of America. ISBN-13: 978-1-60370-718-3 ISBN-10: 1-60370-718-2 Torquere Press, Inc.: electronic edition / May 2009 Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680

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