I grumbled but sat back down, knowing Finn usually got his way in the end. It was easier just to go along with whatever spectacle he’d planned for me than to fight him on it.
Throwing my napkin in the middle of the table, I pushed my chair back a few inches and relaxed, an apparent unwilling participant in whatever show my brother was putting on.
It didn’t take long for the first knock.
“Come in,” Finn called, and after a slight hesitation, the door pushed open.
Well, damn. It was Amelia Byrne.
I immediately frowned, confused. Why was she here?
“She’s the applicant?” I muttered, the connection finally snapping into place.
“She is,” he said, the smile threatening to split his face in two. Why the hell was he so chuffed with himself?
My bastard brother gestured for her to enter. “Please come in.”
Amelia seemed to find her backbone because the timidity that had been on her face when the door first opened was gone. Now, she looked nearly as annoyed as I felt when she saw me sitting next to my brother. She also had a red hue to her cheeks that gave away a small part of her embarrassment at finding two Casey brothers as her interviewers.
If I was a betting man, I’d bet that Amelia was wishing she’d never applied to the stupid job in the first place. No position, especially not a part-time job, was worth whatever glee Finn was getting from all of it.
“Can you tell us a little about yourself, Miss…” Finn hesitated, frowning, acting like he had no idea who she was. Smart woman, she saw right through it too.
“Come off it, Finn Casey,” she snapped, her hands going straight to perfectly rounded hips accentuated by a navy-blue pencil skirt and soft white sweater. Both of which were spotless — likely a testament to her culinary skills. “I watched you vomit up all the communion wine in St. Bernadette’s when you were fourteen. Enough with the act.”
It worked on Finn too. He gave her a slow clap and sat back in his chair. “I’m sorry, Amelia. I just love fucking with my brother. But in my defense, it’s not unheard of for me to weigh in on some of the kitchen hires.”
“Even the sous chef?”
I wasn’t following what they were talking about, having no idea who the sous chef was or why he was worth mentioning, but whatever it was, impressed Finn.
“Not a fan of Mr. Milano?”
Amelia pursed her lips and shook her head, one hip cocking out to the side as she leveled an assessing gaze on my brother.
“He’s a slob for starters,” she said. “And gave me nasty fish for another.”
Finn gave her an expectant look, waiting for her to continue.
“Okay, it wasn’t bad bad, but it wasn’t the best stuff on the planet and would have been mushy and soft if I tried to keep it in fillet,” she said, speaking faster. “Either he didn’t know and was an idiot, or he knew and was sabotaging me. Either way, not cool.”
I couldn’t help but think that if this were a normal job interview, Amelia probably would have been tossed out on her head. But it was clear that she felt a certain level of comfort and familiarity around Finn and me, despite not having seen either one of us in years.
What she said was true, though. We’d grown up together. Him even more than me. As my brother was a few years closer to her age, he would have been around more during the church-going days of our youth. I was sure that she’d be on her best behavior in front of any other hotel owner, and the fact that I was getting a glimpse of the real Amelia was a bit thrilling.
To say the least, I was enjoying the show.
Her dark hair had fallen from her high ponytail in places and was softly framing her face. I took the chance to study her a little closer while Finn held her attention and I soaked her in.
Amelia seemed to get more beautiful each time I saw her, if I was being honest. I could see the smattering of brown freckles on the bridge of her nose and across her cheeks that she tried to cover with makeup, and I wanted to see more of them. Why did she cover them like that?
Her blue eyes were framed by long lashes, and her full, pert lips had the perfect amount of shiny gloss on them, despite the fact that she’d just made lunch for two in less than a half hour.
As I noticed earlier, her curves were resplendent in the outfit she’d chosen, and her knee-high brown boots had a whole host of naughty thoughts racing through my mind and straight to my groin. A fantasy of Amelia, naked save for those very boots, in my bedroom bent over my bed flooded my consciousness, and I had to adjust in my chair before it became obvious that my mind wasn’t on the soup. Or the job she was after. I could tell from the way Finn was teasing and messing with her, it was as good as hers.
“Did you have anything to add to the dish, Declan?”
Finn’s words cut me out of my X-rated Amelia fantasies, and I blinked stupidly at my brother, trying to figure out what he’d just asked me. “The dish?”
Finn snorted, the bastard. “Yes, professor, what do you think about the dish? Should I hire Miss Byrne?”
I drew in a long breath to buy myself time, my mind racing toward a series of events I knew I’d probably be better off without. My life was plenty complicated with the Duffy brothers and land deals going south.
“It depends,” I said slowly, the plan taking shape in front of me. I wanted to catch her off guard. She needed not to think too hard when she answered me.
“On what?” Amelia wasn’t bothering to hide how annoyed she sounded.
I chuckled.
“My review of your fish soup…” I made the words sound as pedestrian and simple as possible, knowing that she’d just knocked a fairly complicated French stew out of the park, “depends on whether you’ll go to dinner with me tomorrow night.”
The self-satisfied smile on Finn’s face let me know that, somehow, this was what he’d been planning the entire time. How he knew or made any connections was beyond me, but I planned on finding out.
“A date?” Amelia all but scoffed. “This is your way of asking me out on a date? I already told you I’m not here for long, didn’t I?”
I chuckled, even though the words bothered me. I didn’t want to think about this heavenly creature moving across the country. Not now. Not in a few months. Not ever.
“I asked you to dinner, Amelia,” I drolled, causing her to blanche a little bit. “Not marry me. Presumptuous much?”
She opened her mouth, most likely to fire something smart back, and for a split second, I thought she might refuse me outright. But she slowly closed her eyes and took in a deep breath.
Finn said nothing, his face wide with a grin.
I could practically hear my human resources director stomping a foot and screaming, so I amended the offer. “Come to dinner with me. The job is yours either way.”
We gazed at each other, and the pull I felt toward her strengthened, grew heavier. Please say yes, I mentally begged her, hoping I didn’t look as desperate as I felt.
“Fine,” she said, and my heart started to beat again. “I’ll go to dinner with you. And I accept the job.”
Before I could say another word, she turned on her heel and stomped out.
“Well played, sir,” Finn said as the busser came into the room and cleared the dishes.
I stood and shrugged back into my jacket. “What made you orchestrate something like that? How’d you even know to do that?”
He gave me a one-shouldered shrug. “Brennan comes into the lounge a few nights a week.” I sighed and simply shook my head. Asshole had a big mouth, apparently. I should be mad, but Brennan was more like family to my brothers and me than anything else. “He said you had her looked into and she’s been a topic of your conversations more than normal. I figured I’d see what you did with the opportunity so unexpectedly presented to me.”
I made my way to the door, trying to look pissed on the outside, but inside, I was impressed. Really impressed with my brother’s astuteness and quick thinking.
Really, the ma
n was a damn genius.
***
I called Amelia on her cell phone the next morning and got an earful right off the bat as she wondered how I’d gotten her cell number.
“I would have called you at your office,” she said with a sigh. “You didn’t have to do illegal things to get it.”
I laughed at that.
“Nothing illegal, Amelia, I assure you,” I said, a little chaffed that she assumed that of me. I couldn’t really blame her, but I still didn’t like her thinking I was just another wise guy. Just another knucklehead. “Finn gave it to me off your application, if you’re curious.”
That seemed to mollify her, but no amount of insistence would persuade her to let a car come pick her up for dinner tonight.
“I’ll meet you there,” she insisted for the fourth time, causing me to back down. Something I rarely did.
“Fine,” I bit out, hating that it’d been so easy to get me to back down. “Eight p.m. at the Moon Tree?”
I was sure she’d already heard of the place. It had been making a splash in the city since opening six months ago.
“Sounds good,” she said quickly. “I’ll see you tonight.”
She hung up on me then, and I stared at my phone in a fair amount of shock. I really wasn’t one who got hung up on very often. In fact, I’d had more than my fair share of women rage at me for not calling them often enough.
I put my phone away, trying to ignore the fact that my pride had been just a little wounded, and focused on the round of meetings ahead of me. All while mentally tracking the hours until eight p.m.
It took forever.
I did my best to stay busy, and I was busy, but I really didn’t want to act like some hormonal teenager mooning all over Amelia while I waited for our dinner.
But it was hard. Damn hard.
I made it to the Moon Tree first and waited at the bar, nervously checking over my shoulder every time the small bell on the front door jingled. Just when I thought Amelia was going to be late, I caught a glimpse of her stepping inside and shaking the rain from her dark coat, which an attendant took from her.
If Amelia Byrne was trying to make an impression on me, as though she hadn’t already, her simple, soft updo and body-hugging short black dress made the perfect combination of sexy and classy to make an impact. I was full-on staring as her eyes raked across the bar, looking for me. I’d just managed to pull myself together when her eyes landed on mine, and I scooped up my drink and the glass of red wine that I’d taken a guess on for her.
“You’re gorgeous,” I said as I approached and extended the glass. She just stood there, blinking rapidly, and she looked so adorable, I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on my face. “Something in your eye? You’re blinking a lot tonight.”
She snatched the wine from my hand and then batted her lashes. “Sorry, just trying to blink away the asshole in front of me.”
I laughed. God, she was adorable. When I’d composed myself, I pointed at the glass. “Bartender’s suggestion. Not mine.”
She smiled, sending another crack through my armor. Damn, but her smile was some sort of weapon that found its way through all my complicated, intricate layers. I wanted more smiles. All for me.
With a quick breath, I cleared my head as I trailed behind Amelia as the hostess led us to our table. My fingers itched to touch her back, that sweet curve just above her perfect ass. I fisted my hands to stop myself from reaching out to her but couldn’t stop my cock from pulsing as I imagined lowering that zipper down her spine, kissing each delicate vertebra as it was exposed.
Damn, just being with her was torture. Torture I’d invited.
Once she was settled in her chair, I took my own, my pulse galloping through my chest. I was nervous. What sort of spell had she put on me?
“Any recommendations?” she asked me as she looked up and down the large menu the hostess had put in her hands. The place was huge and crowded, but with enough space between tables that we didn’t have to shout over the crowd to be heard.
“I always get the same thing no matter where I go,” I answered unapologetically, knowing it would probably drive a chef insane not to try new foods and flavors. “Medium rare prime rib. If I’m feeling extra adventurous, I’ll get grilled onions on top. But not very often.”
She leveled me with an unblinking stare, but instead of saying anything, she just shook her head and looked back down at the menu.
The waitress, a young woman with a sleek brown ponytail and painted-on eyebrows, arrived and asked if we were ready.
“You can start with Mr. Dependable over there,” she said, and the woman turned her giant puppy-dog brown eyes on me.
“Prime rib, medium rare, baked potato plain, dry salad,” I said, handing back the unused menu.
Across from me, I swore I heard Amelia snort, but her face was hidden behind the menu.
The waitress looked at her expectantly.
“I’ll try the Chicken Picatta.” She handed over the menu. “House dressing for the salad, please.”
Our orders in, the waitress disappeared with a promise to check on our drinks in a few minutes. My scotch was nearing the bottom, and the two ice cubes were melting.
“Plain baked potato and lettuce leaves, Casey?” It was clear she was unable to hide her amusement any longer. “Are you allergic to flavor? Or did you lose your taste buds in some sort of fraternity hazing incident in college?”
I lifted a shoulder and gave her a half grin. “I know what I like. What can I say?”
She just shook her head but didn’t press. Funny thing was, I wanted her to press. I wanted to know what she thought and why.
“You disapprove.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Eat what you need to eat,” she deflected, not confirming or denying my statement. I held fast, knowing her opinion would topple out sooner or later. It had to. I knew for a fact after watching her with my brother yesterday that when she had something to say, Amelia Byrne said it. And she eventually did. “But doesn’t your life get boring, tasting the same thing every day? You’re probably the type that takes the exact same route to and from work every day too. Same treadmill at the gym. Same locker in the locker room. Don’t you get bored?”
I didn’t respond immediately, a bit taken aback that she’d pegged me so easily in such a short time. I did have my driver take the same routes to and from work, and as a matter-of-fact, I had my preference when it came to which treadmill I used at the health club.
I barked out a short laugh. “Do I get bored? No.” I ran my thumb down the edge of the glass tumbler in my hand, wishing it was her body I was touching. “Like I said, I know what I like, and I make a conscious effort to fill my day with those things I like to see… do…” I dropped my gaze to her lips, “eat.”
I watched her swallow, her pupils dilating as her breathing grew more ragged. Good. She was as affected by me as I was by her.
Leaning forward, I caught her scent, breathing it in. “With all the abundant choices, Amelia, don’t you make some crappy ones sometimes? Isn’t it disappointing to get a bad meal because you took a chance on it instead of ordering what you know you really wanted?”
Considering my words, Amelia chewed her bottom lip in a way that made me jealous. I wanted my teeth on her lip, sucking it between my own. I chugged a cold drink of water and refocused my thoughts.
“I’ve had a couple shitty dinners, sure,” she admitted, running her finger around the rim of her wine glass. “And I’ve gotten stuck in a traffic jam or two, absolutely. But I had the best fish taco of my life by ordering blind from a food truck at the ocean, and I found my absolute favorite indie bookshop in Mobile by riding my bike home a different way after a lunch service one afternoon. So no, I don’t regret things like that.”
I didn’t have much of a response for that, so I let the thought marinate a bit while the waitress returned with a basket of rolls and our salads. Or rather, her salad and my pile of dry leaves. I smiled at th
e words that rang in my head.
I was two bites into my salad and thinking of my next few questions for Amelia when I heard two voices I’d have given anything not to hear that night. I closed my eyes and willed them far, far away from Amelia and me, hoping beyond hope that I hadn’t been spotted yet. But I wasn’t a small guy, and with the table arrangements as they were, there was no real chance to get lost in a crowd.
“Duke!”
As my childhood nickname was shouted through the crowd, I actually winced, chancing a glance up at Amelia. She was looking at me with a puzzled look on her face.
Shit.
Glancing over her shoulder, I saw the source, or sources, of the chaos and embarrassment as I watched my two uncles, Jimmy and Joseph, barreling their way through the restaurant right toward us. And holy shit… they were both dragging a chair behind them, looking like they were about to get really comfortable at our table.
Saints above, I was screwed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Amelia
I hated to admit how nervous I actually was while getting ready to meet Declan at the restaurant he’d suggested. I’d pushed aside the butterflies in my stomach all day as foolish worries that messing up the date would somehow screw up my chance to work at The Capstone.
But I knew better. I’d had the job once Finn tasted the soup. Declan had simply used the moment to his advantage, though for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why he wanted a date so bad. He’d roundly rejected me in the past, and even back then, it would have been just a random hookup. But these days, we were universes apart when it came to what we were after and who we were.
I could just tell by looking at him and watching him interact with the people who worked for him.
Declan was stunning to look at, yes, but he was so organized and was clearly a man who left nothing to chance. And chance? That was where most of my magic happened.
Like I happened by chance to miss a crossing signal on the way home from Pop’s office earlier today and had to walk a few blocks on the other side of the street from where I normally walked. It just so happened that the stunning long-sleeved mini dress I was currently wearing caught my attention in a shop window. And, by chance, it had been marked almost sixty percent off.
Claiming Amelia Page 6