Shada retreated, but she bumped against the door. “I can’t—”
“Can’t what?”
She was going to say she couldn’t work for him.
“I checked up on you before I made the job offer. You have limited experience, and at each of the jobs you’ve held previously, you clashed with staff because you don’t know how to keep your mouth shut. I told you that’s not a problem for me, but you can’t work here because you’re not in charge? This is a new venture for my brothers and myself. Why would I hire an inexperienced chef to run the kitchen?”
“You’re right,” Shada snapped. She knew he was, but she couldn’t help being pissed at him for spelling it out. Why the hell was she even here? She spun to face the door and put a hand on the knob.
“Are you running away?”
She glared over her shoulder at him. “Excuse me?”
“This time you aren’t fired. No one is suppressing your creativity.”
“Give it time.”
He raised his eyebrows. “So you’ll walk away before you’re screwed.”
“I didn’t say that.” She faced him. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t.”
“Then why are you trying to get me to stay?”
“I need a sous chef. Period. You’re either the woman for the job, or you’re not. It’s a simple matter, Shada. If you can’t handle it, I’ll find a replacement.”
Shada wanted to call him all kinds of bastards and other, more colorful language to his face, but that might be going too far. He was cold as ice and direct. She should appreciate the fact that she knew where she stood.
“Oh, I can handle it all right.” She stared him down, not allowing her gaze to shift away. All of a sudden, she became aware that he stood too close, but with the challenge he’d issued her, she couldn’t move. Creed knew what he did to her, and he held her attention. Her chest tightened, and she licked her lips, trying to calm down. “I won’t run away.”
“Good.” Had his voice always been that deep?
“And, um…” She paused.
“Was there something else?”
He never looked away from her face. Unmoved, he waited for her to speak, and she clenched a hand at her side, digging the nails into her palm.
“You’re the only one that can let me go.”
Surprised registered in his expression.
“Please. We both know I’ll have some hurtles. Let’s put it like that.”
He chuckled. Creed had a nice laugh.
She shook her head to clear it of such thoughts. “If you make sure Rene can’t fire me, we have a deal.”
“A deal? Interesting. You’re a very unorthodox woman, Shada.”
She sagged against the door and ran a hand over her face. “I know. Damn it, I don’t have any cards, and here I am, making demands on day one. You probably think I’m crazy.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.”
When his voice faded some, she looked up to find he’d moved to his desk with his back to her. She sighed in relief, and Creed dropped into his chair. “You have an Associates in business management, and you’re newly graduated from the Culinary Institute of America Hyde Park. You were even close to becoming an RN at one time.”
“I’ve done a lot in my thirty-three years. I guess it looks like I’ve been all over the place.”
“Depends on how you look at it.” He scrutinized her, and she danced from foot to foot, hating how he robbed her of peace. “Okay, you have a deal. Rene won’t have the power to let you go. But make no mistake. I’ve fired many people in my time. I won’t hesitate to make any decision I need to for the success of the restaurant.”
She saluted and smiled. “Got it, boss. I won’t let you down.”
“Creed,” he corrected.
She tilted her head and smirked. “Creed.”
Her response appeared to startle him, but she couldn’t read what he thought of it. Rather than prolong things, she took her leave and went to find Rene to apologize. Maybe the executive chef wouldn’t hate her guts if she made up to him right away. Now that the shock of finding out she wasn’t at the top of the kitchen staff had worn off, she realized she was better off anyway. As Creed had said, this was a new venture for him and his brothers. If its success depended on her, then that created a lot of pressure for her to produce results. She would do her best to support Rene, and she prayed he wasn’t a dick. “I’ll learn a lot from him and then steal some light to shine.”
Chapter Four
Shada sat near the back of the group, one foot drawn up onto the folding chair. She listened to Creed explain the plans for the coming weeks. Some of them had already been implemented. He informed them all repairs had been done. She was glad. The scent of paint and plaster had begun to fade, and she was working with Rene every day to replace it with the delicious aromas of chateaubriand and poulet aux champignons. Okay, he hadn’t exactly let her prepare the steak just yet, but he thrilled her when he used her alciatore sauce recipe. Everyone had raved about the sweet combo of pineapple and béarnaise recipe, one uniquely her own, and she got to enjoy watching them eat rather than being stuck in the kitchen the entire time.
The Marquette brothers might be rich as anything, but she learned fast that they were down to earth—Creed’s lapses into arrogance aside. They seemed to get a kick out of laboring, with their sleeves rolled up, alongside their people. Every time she had spotted Creed with a paintbrush in his hand and paint in his dark locks, she’d come to a screeching halt and forgotten what she was supposed to be doing. Good thing his work didn’t bring him to the kitchen too often, although when Shada cooked, she was lost to that secret world where she could let her imagination run wild.
“You know they’re billionaires in their other life?” the blonde next to Shada whispered.
Shada glanced at Tiffany, a waitress with long hair and blue eyes. She was just the cutest thing possible, and she bubbled around the Marquettes, hanging on every word they said. “I’ve heard.”
“And they’re single,” Tiffany continued, annoying Shada. “You can take your pick, because they’re all hotties.”
Shada blinked at her. “Me?” She hoped no one had noticed her fixation with Creed.
“Not you.” Tiffany rolled her eyes and waved a hand. “I meant a person, a woman.”
“Oh right, because I’m neither.”
Tiffany looked at her, confused. Shada turned back to listen to Creed. Nothing stopped the blonde, though. “I bet being married to one of them, I’d never have to stand on my feet again. I’d have a maid to serve me in bed. I would never even come to this restaurant except to show off my clothes and jewelry.”
Shada cringed.
Creed cleared his throat. “Is there something you want to share with all of us, Tiffany?”
The waitress flashed him a high-wattage smile, uncrossed shapely legs, and then re-crossed them. She sat up a bit straighter, pushing her boobs out farther. “No, I’m okay. I was just telling Shada I think this restaurant is so classy, and it’s going to be a great success. I just know it.”
“Thanks, Tiffany.” Damen cut across Creed when he would have responded. “We couldn’t do it without you.”
She simpered. “Call me Tiff. Everyone does.”
“Can we get back to the matter at hand?” Creed said, and both Damen and Tiffany quieted. “As I said, all repairs are done, and now I feel confident about scheduling the opening.”
“A party,” Stefan suggested.
“No,” Creed snapped. “You already did a reopening only to close again. The public will think we’re insane.”
“Nothing wrong with another party, Creed,” Damen put in. “The natives and tourists love it.”
Shada listened as the three went back and forth, and she realized Creed didn’t run the entire show. His brothers gave him a run for his money, but even while they disagreed, she was amazed at how close the three appeared. This was family, everybody depending on one another, making
it happen together. A sense of melancholy came over her, and she glanced down at her hands.
“Shada.”
She looked up. Creed stood in front of her. At some point the meeting had ended, and assistants from the kitchen were uncovering dishes of food. Even though the restaurant wasn’t officially open, staff had to be fed, temporary ones and permanent alike, and the Marquettes were always generous.
Shada stood, and her thigh bumped Creed’s. She darted away. “I should help serve.”
He caught her arm. “Leave it a minute.”
She waited but gave a small tug at her arm. He let go without fuss, but she felt him studying her face. Why did it always feel like he was looking back just as much as she looked at him? She didn’t want to fool herself, and certainly she wasn’t looking to bag one of them, like Tiffany was. All Shada desired in life was to cook and to take care of Marisa. Such a dream wasn’t too much to ask.
“Tell me what you think of Rene,” he said. “Specifically the food.”
She gasped. “You know it’s good. We’ve been throwing back for weeks now.”
Creed grinned. “I like how you word it.”
“It’s true.”
Creed checked to see if anyone was near. Shada noted the line forming at the tables. The buffet was just for now. Marquette’s wouldn’t have anything so common when the doors opened to the public.
“Is it good,” he emphasized, “the food you’ve been practicing with him to make.”
She grinned. “You mean is it alive? Will it capture people and not let them leave? I think it is. Rene’s brilliant, but don’t tell him I said so. He’s not that social.”
She rolled her eyes, and Creed chuckled.
“He gives orders, and we follow. Other than that, he’s head bowed, fingers flying. I love watching him.”
This time Creed frowned, and she wondered she she’d said wrong.
“I’ve decided to give you a dish for the menu.”
She gaped. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. One dish, your choice. Rene has to approve it, the dish and the quality.”
Shada bounced up and down, doing her best to suppress a squeal. “I can’t believe it. Thank you so much. I have to look through my journal of recipes. Oh wow, what am I going to make? Chicken, beef, fish?”
“Whoa, slow down.”
She put a hand to her chest and drew in a deep breath, then let it out. “You’re amazing, Creed.”
He started, and she bit her lip. “I mean—”
“I know what you mean.”
He peered toward his brothers as they stood balancing plates at the baby grand while the performer plucked out an upbeat tune. Tiffany did her best to call attention to herself nearby, but Stefan focused on the music. Damen fielded a call on his cell and excused himself. Poor woman wasn’t making any progress.
“The three of you are close,” Shada said, not really questioning it.
“We are,” he agreed. “We’ve come far.”
“I bet.”
“How is Marisa?”
Shada appreciated that he remembered. She had brought her sister by the restaurant only a couple of times, as the fumes from the paint and dust might have gotten to her. “Do you mind if I bring her by more often, now that everything’s cleaned up? I don’t like leaving her home alone for long hours.”
He pushed his hands into his pockets. “Not at all. She’s welcome anytime and as long as she likes. As a matter of fact, her meals are always free.”
Something stirred in Shada. She lowered her lashes. “Thanks.”
“Maybe you can let me do a taste test.”
Her mouth fell open. “What?”
Amusement brightened his eyes. “Your new dish? What did you think I meant?”
“Nothing. I knew you were talking about my food.”
“Hmm.”
He excused himself and strode over to Stefan. Shada stared after him. The Marquette brothers were professional and kind to their employees, Damen a little warmer to the women, but Shada still felt Creed exuded sexuality. He didn’t have to talk dirty or make innuendos for her panties to get wet. Yet more and more over the last couple of weeks, she had begun thinking the attraction wasn’t just on her side. Unlike in his hotel room, Creed never allowed his eyes to stray from her face, but he seemed so aware of her.
Wishful thinking, Shada. Don’t be like Tiffany.
She almost laughed at the thought. Marriage was not on her To Do list or even in her dreams. Sure, she had physical needs just like any other woman, but that wasn’t the same as falling in love. Her heart remained under lock and key, and she couldn’t say with certainty that it had ever been let loose—not for a man. Love meant pain. She loved Marisa because she couldn’t help it, but her sister would be the last person she ever cared for.
A crash from the direction of the kitchen drew Shada’s attention, and she hurried to see what the matter was. Their plongeur, the porter or dishwasher, was leaning over the sink, panting, cheeks pink. A shattered plate lay on the floor.
“Sweetie, are you okay?” Shada touched his head. “You’re burning up.”
Creed and the rest of the staff strode into the kitchen.
“I think he’s got a fever, Creed. He’ll need to go home. We already have one plongeur out sick.”
Creed swore. “I’ll need to call an agency.”
“Might be too late tonight,” Stefan said.
Shada retied her apron. “I’ll take over the dishes for tonight.”
Creed eyed her. “I’ll join you.”
Tiffany popped up beside him and tugged at his arm. “Why should you do it, Creed? You’re the big boss.”
“We all pitch in. That’s how we run things here.” He managed to shake off her arm without appearing to do so. Shada gave him credit, but she didn’t need the man working at her side, tempting her all night.
“I’ve got this, Creed. You don’t have to help.”
“Everyone else, handle the rest,” Creed ordered. “You know what you need to do. I think it’s best to end things where they are for tonight.”
There were groans of protest, but soon, Shada found herself alone with Creed. She knew it wouldn’t be long before Rene arranged to get the leftovers packaged for donation, but for now, she and Creed were by themselves. Her nerves were jangled, giving her trembling fingers. If she picked up a plate at that moment, she’d just do the same thing the dishwasher had done.
“Hey.”
She looked into Creed’s hot gaze. He stood too close.
“You don’t hate working with me, do you?”
Her nerves untangled, and she chuckled. “The words form a question, but I heard disbelief in your tone. You think you’re all that, Creed Marquette.”
“Haven’t you heard? I’m amazing.”
“Don’t use my words against me.”
They both laughed, and Creed picked up the dish detergent liquid, then set it down. “Listen.”
“Yes?”
He hesitated. “I’m careful about employer-employee relations. I know how things can get out of hand.”
“If I’ve done—”
He held up a finger to her lips but didn’t make contact. She fell silent. “Tell me if I’m wrong, and you’ll never hear anything from me again. Nor will I ever behave inappropriately toward you.”
Her throat dried. The nerves were back. “Wrong about?”
“About us wanting each other. In bed.”
She had picked up a plate. Now she held it in a death grip. Creed reached over to gently remove it from her fingers. “I—”
The kitchen door swung open, and Rene appeared, carrying a pan of crabmeat-stuffed mushrooms topped with cheese and breadcrumbs. Shada had stuffed herself with a third of them. Behind Rene, Stefan made some droll comment that set Tiffany off in a peal of high-pitched laughter. Then the group returned to the dining room.
When the kitchen grew silent again, Shada released the breath she held. Creed didn’t push her. He
waited in silence while she gathered her thoughts.
“I think…” Did she dare? He was basically saying he wanted to sleep with her, and hell yes, she wanted it. Still, getting involved with one’s boss was usually a bad move. The whole thing ending in happily-ever-afters was a fairy tale. Not that she wanted such an outcome. She believed it could only lead to her being out of a job—again.
She started over after she took a second to calm down. “You aren’t wrong, but I’m not sure we should pursue it.”
Shada plugged the sink drain, ran water, and added dish detergent. Soon, she and Creed had a short assembly line going, and they worked in silence. Never in her life had she been so keenly aware of another human being. Creed’s presence vibrated along her nerve endings as if he had invaded her body. She had to bite off a moan even thinking that way, because invading her body had all kinds of yummy overtones.
She washed a plate and handed it to Creed. He took it, and his sudsy fingers slid over hers, sending chills of delight racing along her spine. She pulled away, but he reached out and captured her fingers again. A gentle caress with his forefinger along hers made her shiver. He curved the digit over the tip of hers and traced under it to her palm. Moving up again, his fingers glided between hers and curled so that their hands were laced together.
The door opened. Laughter filled the air. Shada pulled back, but Creed held on. Their bodies blocked anyone from seeing what they did, but she felt exposed and vulnerable. Her pussy clenched with each touch, driving her crazy with need. He knew what the hell he was doing. The man hadn’t taken her hesitation as an end to the discussion.
When everyone left the kitchen, she whispered, “Creed, you shouldn’t do that.”
He leaned down so his mouth hovered close to her ear. “I want to do a lot more.”
“Like I said, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Pleasure between two people is always a good idea.”
Creed (The Marquette Family Book One) Page 4