Sin

by Deborah Bladon

  “I’ll have a brandy.” Roland smiles at me. “How about you?”

  I look around the crowded restaurant. I like the ambiance and since I’m enjoying myself, I nod. “I’ll have the same.”

  He waits until the server leaves before he clears his throat. “I realize that our first date hasn’t officially ended yet, but I’m about to ask you for a second.”

  My gaze drifts over his shoulder. I catch sight of two men sitting at a table across the restaurant. The man facing me is attractive but it’s the man who has his back to me that grabs my attention.

  He’s wearing a suit jacket that’s the same shade of gray as the one West had on when we met on the airplane. He also has the same hair color as West. A lot of men in this city do. I’ve taken notice since I got back from Vegas.

  “I can wait to ask until you’ve had a day or two to decide if you’re interested.” Roland chuckles. “Obviously, I’m interested in you.”

  I should be interested in him too. He’s a nice guy with no apparent baggage. That’s a rarity in this city, but for some reason, I’m not feeling any butterflies in my stomach at the prospect of another date.

  “Roland?” A man’s voice draws my attention to the right. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Roland pushes back from the table and is on his feet in an instant. Before he can say anything, he’s being tugged into the arms of a tall man wearing a chef’s jacket.

  They exchange a friendly hug. When they step apart, Roland smiles at the chef. “Tyler. Damn, man, it’s been forever.”

  Tyler? As in Chef Tyler Monroe?

  I’m not a foodie, but I know enough about the Manhattan restaurant scene to realize that Tyler Monroe is a wizard in the kitchen. He’s one of the most celebrated chefs in this city.

  “It’s been at least two years, Roland.” Tyler’s gaze falls to where I’m still seated. He extends his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m normally not this rude. I’m Tyler.”

  “You’re not rude,” I say, sliding to my feet and taking his hand in mine. “I’m Linny.”

  “Are you two…” Tyler’s words trail as he shoots Roland a look.

  “This is our first date.” Roland pats Tyler’s shoulder. “I brought her here to impress her.”

  I smile at that. “It worked. The food is incredible.”

  Tyler’s brows shoot up. “I would have prepared something special off menu if I knew Roland was having dinner with a woman with such good taste in food and…”

  “Men?” Roland interrupts.

  “Wine.” Tyler points at the empty bottle of merlot on the table. “You must have a discerning palate, Linny. From what I remember, cheap beer was Roland’s drink of choice.”

  I laugh at the obvious jab.

  “If that was supposed to be an insult, I’m not going to complain.” Roland’s voice lowers. “Say whatever the hell you want about me if it brings a smile to Linny’s beautiful face.”

  I may agree to that second date after all.

  “I was on my way to say hello to one of my suppliers.” Tyler motions to the table where the two men I noticed earlier are sitting. “My work is never done.”

  “We won’t keep you.” Roland rests his hand on the back of his chair. “It was good to see you. Give me a call sometime. We need to catch up.”

  “I’m previewing the fall tasting menu on Friday night at eight o’clock. It’s a private event. You two are more than welcome to join us.”

  Roland’s mouth curls into a smile. “I’m in. How about you, Linny? Is it a date?”

  If I had any doubt about accepting a second date invitation, it’s been washed away by the promise of delicious food and wine. “I’ll be here.”

  “I’ll see you both then.” Tyler squeezes Roland’s shoulder. “It was great to see you old friend and really good to meet you, Linny.”

  “It was good to meet you too,” I reply, but he’s already making his way across the crowded dining room.

  The server approaches with two brandy snifters in his hands. Roland reaches for the back of my chair and motions for me to sit.

  Once we’re both settled in, he toasts to our upcoming date on Friday night.

  I raise my glass and clink it against his.

  Maybe Harmony did get it right this time. Only time will tell.

  Chapter 11

  Jeremy

  “When’s the last time you suited up?” I tilt my chin up.

  Rocco looks down at the jeans, white T-shirt and black jacket he’s wearing before he points a finger at my tailored gray suit. “I’m touched that you pulled out one of your three thousand dollar suits to take me to dinner.”

  I straighten the cuff of my jacket. “I’m thinking of hitting up a club after this. You’re welcome to tag along.”

  He pauses before he smiles. “Are you meeting the woman you told Blythe about?”

  I fucking wish I was. I shake my head.

  “You were letting Blythe down easy when you said you were interested in someone else?” He strokes his chin. “I take it the friend’s niece isn’t your type.”

  “You could say that.”

  “So you’re headed to the club to find your type?” He narrows his gaze. “I’ll let you handle that without a wingman. It’s a pass for me.”

  “We just talked shop over dinner. A break from work won’t kill you.”

  Beneath the bet and time spent together running this afternoon, this evening was always designed to be a business meeting. Rocco’s been itching for an update on the vanilla vodka’s launch. I just spent the past two hours filling him in on every detail.

  He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to order the most expensive entrée on the menu. He did. He washed it back with a bottle of cabernet recommended by our server.

  It’s worth every dime now that I’m watching Tyler Monroe make his way to our table. He’s the owner of Nova and the head chef. He also agreed to sell Rizon vodka exclusively to his diners three months ago.

  I do a double take when I catch the profile of a woman sitting at a table with a dark-haired guy in a blue suit. I swear to fuck she looks like my Vegas angel.

  Before I can get a better look at her, Tyler is next to me with his hand resting on my shoulder.

  “Jeremy, it’s good to see you.”

  I nod as I try to steal another look at the woman who just made my heart race. I curse to myself when I realize that the guy she’s with is blocking my line of sight.

  “You too, Tyler,” I offer with a grin. “This is Rocco Jones, my business partner.”

  Rocco extends his hand to the chef who takes it for a quick shake. “It’s great to meet you, Tyler.”

  “How was your dinner?” Tyler crosses his arms over his chest.

  Rocco looks down at his empty plate. “There’s your answer. Nova never disappoints.”

  A smile creeps over Tyler’s mouth as he rakes a hand through his brown hair. “That’s good to hear.”

  “How’s Cadence and Firi?” I ask about his family because I know Tyler. Those two people are his life. Nova is his passion. He’s determined to make the restaurant the top in Manhattan, but he’d push it aside in an instant for the woman he loves and their son.

  “They’re great, Jeremy. Thanks for asking,” he answers, holding my gaze.

  The pull I feel to turn around to try to get another look at the brunette is strong, but I stick to script. The launch of the vanilla vodka is less than two months away and I need all the exposure I can get.

  I’ll chat up Tyler for a few minutes, excuse myself, and then head over to the table where the drop-dead gorgeous woman is sitting.

  “I dropped off a sample bottle of our new product last week.” I shoot a look at the bar manager, Leo. I hand delivered a bottle to him with the understanding that he’d see to it that Tyler not only got a taste but a sterling recommendation from him. I could have left that job to our Brand Manager, but I didn’t want to risk the chance that Leo would turn him down. Leo’s words are w
hat got Rizon vodka into Nova. I’m trusting that he’s worked his magic again.

  “Leo loves it.” Tyler turns his head toward the bar. “It’s the best vanilla vodka I’ve tasted. Leo has my go-ahead to stock it once it’s released.”

  I make a mental note to thank Leo before I leave. “I’ll touch base with him and work out the details.”

  “Sounds good.” Tyler motions for a server. “I’ll get these plates cleared. You two interested in dessert?”

  I’m interested in the brunette who I swear looks like the angel I met in Vegas. I glance back over my shoulder, but she’s gone. They guy she was having dinner with is nowhere to be found either.

  Fuck.

  “I’m not going to turn down dessert.” Rocco laughs. “Are you in, Jeremy, or are you in a hurry to take off?”

  “I’m in.” I look at my watch not caring about the time.

  Once I leave here, I’ll skip the club and go to my office until I can’t focus anymore. After that, I’ll head home and catch a few hours of sleep before I face Sunday head-on.

  It’s the only day that work is off the table.

  “Are you two busy on Friday?” Tyler asks with a quirk of his brow. “I’m having a private party. It’s a preview of the fall tasting menu.”

  Rocco glances at me before he turns to Tyler. “I wouldn’t miss the chance to attend that.”

  “It’s at eight.” Tyler looks at the entrance of the restaurant where a group of people just arrived. “I need to run, but feel free to bring a guest each.”

  Rocco pushes to his feet. “It’s been a pleasure, Chef.”

  I stand too and extend my hand to Tyler. “We’ll see you on Friday.”

  “Friday it is,” Tyler says as he takes my hand in his for a shake. “I’ve invited half of Manhattan, so I’m sure you’ll both see a few familiar faces.”

  The only face I’m interested in seeing is the woman who was eating dinner just a few tables away from me.

  Rocco and I watch Tyler move fluidly through the crowded dining room toward the kitchen.

  “Sit down, Jeremy.” Rocco lowers himself back into his chair. “I’m not leaving here without dessert.”

  “I need to take care of something.” I rest my hands on the back of my chair. “Give me five minutes.”

  “Take your time.” He touches the base of his empty wine glass. “I’ll order another bottle of cabernet while I wait.”

  I huff out a laugh. “Order a glass of Rizon vodka.”

  He tugs his phone from his jacket pocket when it chimes. “I’ll order two since I know you won’t turn down a chance to sample your product.”

  I don’t say another word as Rocco’s fingers skim over the screen of his phone. Instead, I turn and head straight toward our server.

  “What is it, sir?” he nervously asks when I near where he’s standing close to the entrance to the kitchen. “Chef Monroe told me about your complimentary dessert. I’ll bring it out as soon as it’s ready.”

  “Sure.” I lean in closer to him, lowering my voice. “A couple just left that table. I’m wondering if you served them.”

  “Which table?” He eyes the area behind me.

  I turn back to see that the table is now occupied by two young women. I raise my hand in the air and point directly at them. “It’s that table. There was a woman with brown hair and a man in a blue suit sitting there a few minutes ago.”

  He nods vigorously. “Oh, right. Yes. I took care of their needs.”

  I shake my head at his awkward choice of words. “You didn’t catch their names, did you?”

  His expression morphs into confusion. “Why? I’m only supposed to introduce myself to the guests. It’s up to them if they introduce themselves to me.”

  “I take it that means no?”

  “No,” he answers back.

  “Did he pay with a credit card?” I have no right to ask this kid anything, but curiosity is driving me. If he gives me a name, I can track down the couple and see for myself if she was indeed the woman I met two months ago.

  “Cash.” He shakes his head from side-to-side. “Even if he did pay by credit card, it’s not like I could tell you his name. Privacy laws and all.”

  “Understood.” I reach into the inner pocket of my suit jacket and pull out my wallet. I thumb through it before I slide out a hundred dollar bill. “I’ll tip you at the table, but here’s something extra for your trouble.”

  His gaze falls to the bill before he scoops it up in his palm. “Thanks, Jeremy.”

  Seeing as how I never introduced myself to him, I raise both brows. “How do you know my name?”

  “Your friend, Rocco, called you Jeremy when I dropped off your appetizers.” He gestures in the direction Rocco is sitting.

  “Did the black-haired man happen to mention the beautiful brunette’s name?”

  He furrows his brow while his thumb slides over the folded bill in his palm. “I can’t recall.”

  For fuck’s sake . I’m being taken for hundreds because of my irrational need to know the name of a woman who may not even be the angel I spent the night with in Vegas.

  I hand over another hundred because I’m already in too deep to bow out now.

  “I didn’t catch her name, but his is Roland.”

  “Roland,” I repeat back.

  “I’m glad I could be of service, “ he adds as he gazes down at my money.

  I almost reach forward to grab it from his greasy hand. “You were no help at all.”

  “I’ll check on that dessert for you, Jeremy.”

  I shoot him a look before he walks into the kitchen leaving me with the first name of a man I already dislike. Roland may be headed home with the woman who has been haunting my every dream for the past eight weeks.

  If he is, he’s the luckiest son-of-a-bitch on the planet.

  Chapter 12

  Linny

  “No, Mitchell, that’s wrong.” I shake my head. “The client’s name is Trent Morrison, not Trent Morris. Get it together before our meeting.”

  “Our meeting?” Mitchell’s blond brows pinch together. “Since when it is our meeting? I thought Dave was giving me the reins on this one.”

  I move to close his office door so the entire floor doesn’t hear us disagreeing again. They already got an earful this morning when Mitchell stormed into my office to ask me why I’d sent a bouquet of flowers to one of our long-term clients who recently had surgery.

  Mitchell has been her primary point of contact since she signed on with our firm three years ago, but I knew he wouldn’t reach out after finding out that she had canceled her meeting with him today because she was in the hospital recovering from an emergency appendectomy a few days ago.

  He was caught off guard when she called to thank him for the lavish bouquet. By the time he stormed into my office, he was livid that I hadn’t informed him that flowers had been sent to her along with a card with our firm’s best wishes.

  It wasn’t my fault that he sounded like a fool as he sputtered his way through the conversation not even aware that she’d gone under the knife.

  He sounded just as incompetent when I was passing by his office a few minutes ago and heard him telling his assistant, Hal, that he needed a pot of coffee ready for his three o’clock meeting with Trent Morris .

  Trent Morrison is the brand manager for a vodka company. He’s the reason I was called into the office on Saturday to meet with my dad and Mitchell.

  I pitched my ideas before listening to Mitchell toss out a few of his tried and true standards including a television commercial and a billboard in Times Square.

  I’m not as prepared for this meeting as I want to be. The only research I’ve done is looking through Trent Morrison’s recent social media posts.

  I intended to spend yesterday studying the company’s history and past advertising campaigns, but that didn’t happen.

  Ivy Marlow-Walker, the owner of Whispers of Grace, asked me to go over some of the proofs from a photo sh
oot I arranged last week. Since I’m the one who suggested we hire a photographer to capture new images of Ivy’s latest jewelry designs, I couldn’t refuse, even though it was Sunday.

  After we finished for the day, I had dinner at her apartment with her and her family.

  In terms of work, it was a great investment of my time, but it was more than that. It was a chance to get to know her husband and kids.

  A soft knock at the door draws Mitchell to his feet. “Answer the door, Linny.”

  I’m tempted to tell him to do it, but I’m less than a foot away from it, so I swing open the door.

  “It’s not often that I find you two together.” My dad brushes a hand over his bald head. “Nothing warms my heart more than to see you working side-by-side.”

  Mitchell clears his throat behind me. “Linny was just telling me that she’ll be sitting in on the meeting with Trent Morrison.”

  His tongue lingers on the last syllable, making a note to pronounce it correctly.

  “I’ve prepared a few more ideas for us to pitch.” I ignore my stepbrother’s attempt to undermine my role in the meeting.

  My dad nods. “You’re always coming up with something new and fresh, Linny.”

  I’d feel better accepting the compliment if I actually had more ideas to present to Mr. Morrison. I have just over an hour to brainstorm though so as soon as I can break free of Mitchell’s office, I’ll hunker down in mine with my assistant.

  “It’s my job,” I say as I toss Mitchell a glance.

  “You look beautiful as always today.” My dad leans forward to kiss my cheek.

  I gaze down at the red pencil skirt and black blouse I’m wearing. I pulled my hair back into a tight knot at the base of my neck before I applied my makeup this morning. I skipped my contact lenses for a pair of black-rimmed eyeglasses. After slipping on strappy black heels, I was out the door and at the office before my nine a.m. start time.

  “The glasses make you look smarter,” Mitchell calls from behind me.

  I turn so I’m facing him directly with my back to my dad. I lift my middle finger and silently mouth the words, “ Fuck you .”