by Linda Verji
“Hold. Hold. Hold,” the torturer instructed
Oh my God. Orion cussed under his breath. He glanced sideways to find Vina holding the pose easily, like she was just standing around. Her navy tank-top clung to her apple-like breasts and flat tummy like a second skin, while her navy tights caressed the firm lithe muscles of her ass and thighs.
Sensually and hypnotically she moved, displaying her innate flexibility as she transitioned from pose to pose. She looked damn good. And yet he couldn’t even muster the energy to admire her, let alone all the other women around him, since he was too busy trying to keep from fainting.
“Release,” the trainer finally said. Orion almost collapsed to the floor in relief. But before he could even draw an easy breath, she instructed, “Windmill your hands down, step back and lower down to your Chaturanga.”
Chatu… what? Orion groaned as he snuck a peak at Vina. She was on the floor in some kind of push-up that looked easy but that he suspected would be hell on his body. Moving slowly, like an arthritic old man, Orion followed suit.
On and on the torture went on. Somehow, Orion stuck through the class – or at least most of it. They had transitioned into a pose that required bending of knees, standing on tiptoes and stretching arms out when he felt a sudden pull on the muscles in his thigh.
“Ah!” He winced in pain and clutched his thigh.
“Are you okay?” Vina whispered from her position while the ladies around them glanced his way in concern.
“Yeah… oh-” he closed his eyes and gripped his thigh harder. Forget pull, this was real pain – excruciating pain.
“Orion.” Vina was at his side immediately and gripping his arm. “Are you okay?”
“Muscle pull,” he gritted between his teeth as he clung to his thigh. “Ow.”
The next few minutes were spent trying to convince everyone that the pain wasn’t so bad even as his contorted face showed that it was that bad. Eventually, the trainer urged him to take a break from the class, advising that a massage would ease the pain.
His arm around Vina’s shoulder, he limped to the very back of the class and sat down on one of the mats. Vina lowered herself to her hunches between his legs and set her small hands on his thigh.
Orion immediately dragged his leg away. “You don’t have to do that.”
“The instructor said this would ease the pain,” Vina insisted as she pulled his leg back to her. Her eyes met his. “Let me help you.”
How could he say no to that? “Thanks.”
She smiled and once more set her hands on his thigh. Through the fleece fabric of his joggers, he could feel the warmth of her touch. It made him slightly uncomfortable, but at the same time, his muscles seemed to ease just a little bit as if responding to her closeness.
Her nimble fingers dug into his sore thigh as she began to gently work the tender tissue. He winced at the twinges of pain that came with the firm massage, but soon it started to feel good and slowly the pain began to fade. Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes and let her work her magic on him.
Poking gently at his muscles, she asked, “How does that feel?”
“Great,” he groaned.
He wasn’t lying. She was really good at this, like this wasn’t her first time giving a massage. As the pain subsided, he began to notice little things. Like how warm her hands were, how soft yet firm her touch was, and how good it felt to have her fingers digging into his flesh. Inevitably, his imagination wandered into forbidden territory. Would those hands feel good on other parts of his body? What if she just moved her fingers slightly higher to his…
It was no surprise when he felt a sudden tingle and his cock twitched. His eyes immediately flew open and to her face. She hadn’t seen that twitch had she? Fortunately, the slight bulge beneath his pants wasn’t obvious and Vina’s attention was entirely focused on his thigh.
He should’ve stopped her then – it was the logical thing to do. But the vision before him blocked all logical thought. When she was standing, her tank-top was quite innocuous. But now that she was slightly bent, the tops of her breasts were visible through the neck of the top. Orion’s gaze was unconsciously drawn to the seductive sight of those soft, ripe globes, pressed together, straining against the fabric of her top, and jiggling slightly every time her hands stroked his thigh.
What a sight. More blood surged to his cock and it begun to thicken in earnest.
And that’s when she noticed it. She quickly took her hands off his thigh as her eyes flew to his face. “Orion.”
Despite his dazed and aroused state, he managed a, “What?”
“You’re-you’re-” Her wide-eyed gaze swept down to his groin then back up to his face. She whispered, “That!”
It was like getting splashed with cold water. Feeling like a teenager who’d been caught spotting a hard-on during Math class, he instinctively lowered his hand to cover his groin as embarrassed heat flushed up his face. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s my fault.” She turned her beet-red face away from him as if she was just as mortified as he was.
“No, it’s my fault.” Shit. He didn’t even have a towel to cover himself with.
“I should – I should probably go-go back.” she offered haltingly as she gestured to the rest of the class.
“Yeah.” And before he could say anything more, she shot to her feet and rushed away from him.
And that’s ladies and gentlemen is how you ruin a first date! Why don’t you just take it out and wave it at her? He mentally berated himself as he slapped his hand over his face. What the hell was wrong with him? Vina now probably thought he was a pervert. He wouldn’t blame her for backing out of their deal right this moment.
By the time class ended, he was back to regular size – and nervous as hell. Vina waited for him to reach her before they started walking towards the door of the classroom in silence. That silence only enhanced the awkwardness between them. Orion hated that awkwardness, he couldn’t stand the silence. The only thing he could think of breaking it was by apologizing, “Sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?” Vina glanced at him and in her gaze was… amusement? Her eyes danced with mirth as she added, “It’s just a hard-on. Everyone gets them.”
“What?” Orion blinked. This was not the reaction he was expecting.
“I’m not freaked out.” Grinning, she bumped her shoulder against his arm. “Are you?”
Yes, he was. But he found himself saying, “Of course not.”
“Good.” She smiled again before asking, “What do you think about ice-cream?”
“Sorry?” He was so confused about the abrupt change in topic and her blasé attitude.
“What do you think about ice-cream?” she repeated. “There’s a nice place about a few doors down that serves ice-cream that is to die for. Wanna try it?”
“Sure,” Orion nodded even as pure relief swirled through him. Any other woman would’ve made a big deal out of his unintentional slip-up. Thank God Vina wasn’t like any other woman.
The walk to the ice-cream parlor took barely five minutes and by the time they got there all the awkwardness between them was gone.
“Are you sure we should be doing this?” Orion asked as they looked through the glass-covered display case, that held the various flavors of ice-cream.
“Doing what?” she asked.
“Ice-cream.” He glanced at her. “Doesn’t it negate the whole purpose of exercise?”
“Not really.” Enthralled by the delicious display, she didn’t even look up as she explained, “I exercise so I can eat whatever I want, including ice-cream.” To the server, she said, “I’ll have the Strawberry and Chocolate Swirl.” She turned to Orion and asked, “What are you having? It’s on me.”
“Let’s see.” He looked through the displayed flavors then chose the Blue Moon.
Vina made a face. “That’s what you’re having?”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s blue
.”
His eyebrows shot up. “And?”
“Isn’t that enough?” She trembled slightly as if the thought of ordering anything blue gave her the hives. “Blue food is unnatural.”
“So is pink.” He shrugged.
“But pink is close to red.”
“And blue is close to green,” Orion countered with a grin. Despite the sour look Vina gave him, he told the server, “I’ll have the Blue Moon.”
Once they were in their seats at a corner table within the parlor, Orion asked, “Out of curiosity, what was East?” When Vina gave him a confused look, he explained, “When I asked you what we were doing for our date, you told me to choose East or West.”
“Ah.” Her eyes lit up in memory. Spooning some of her ice-cream into her mouth, she said, “East was a baseball match. My boss used to play for the Wizards and he offered me a ticket to one of their games.”
“You had tickets to a baseball game and you took me to that-that-“ He gave her a horrified look. “I was tricked.”
Vina laughed. “That’s why ice-cream is on me.”
“Ice-cream isn’t enough.” Glaring at her, he threatened, “I’m going to make you pay for this.”
“Oooh. I’m so scared.” She gave him a faux tremble even as her eyes twinkled with mirth.
“Wow! You’re really something.” Orion shook his head. “I can’t believe you took me to that torture chamber instead of a baseball game.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who chose West.”
“Next time I’m going with East.” Narrowing his eyes, he warned. “And you better make sure that it’s a good place to be.”
She chuckled. “I won’t make any promises.”
Despite himself, Orion responded to her amusement with a reluctant smile of his own. Dropping the subject of her east and west shenanigans, he asked, “Your boss played for the Wizards? Who is he?”
“Roman Teller.”
His eyes widened as surprise seared through him. “You work with Roman Teller?”
“I do.” She nodded. The next few minutes were spent discussing how it felt to work with a celebrity. That naturally led to her asking about Orion’s job and before he knew it, he was talking to her about why he loved being a contractor so much, the joy of working with his hands and how it felt to see a building growing or changing because of things he was doing.
Usually, he wasn’t one to wax on about his job. Most women got bleary-eyed when he started to talk about construction. Vina was different; she seemed genuinely interested in his work – in him. And it made him even more attracted to her. Now, he was glad that he’d agreed to her ridiculous plan. If he couldn’t date her for real, then this was definitely the next best option.
“No thanks,” Vina said when Orion offered her a taste of his ice-cream.
“Come on,” he begged, holding out the full spoon towards her. “It’s not that bad.”
She turned her head away. “I don’t want to.”
“Just a little taste,” he cajoled.
“Yuck.” She pushed his hand away.
“It won’t bite you,” he teased as he brought the spoon towards her again.
“Go away.” This time her shove was so forceful that the spoon bumped against his nose leaving a wet trail of ice-cream in its wake.
“Hey! Look what you’ve done,” he complained as he swiped his hand over his nose
“Sorry,” she contritely apologized. Leaning forward, she brushed her own finger against the bridge of his nose. “You missed some.”
And then as if it was perfectly normally, she pushed her finger into her mouth and sucked it. It was an instinctive action, innocent even, and yet it sent instant desire pulsing through Orion. There was something sexy about a woman being so comfortable with you that she could eat off your nose… or other parts of your body.
He must have been staring at her too hard because she paused with her finger still in her mouth. “What?”
“Nothing.” He licked his suddenly dry lips. “Nothing at all.”
She studied him for a moment longer before shrugging. “If you say so.”
It’d been a long time since Orion had met a woman who left him feeling as off-kilter as Vina did. She was a strange and complicated woman – in a good way. The more he got to know her, the more he wanted to know. Each conversation between them left him with more questions and the unexplainable urge to keep her close to him so he could peel her layers whenever he wished.
The end of their date should have left him feeling relieved since it was supposed to be fake. Instead, all he felt was an uncomfortable longing – as if he already missed Vina. It took everything in him to keep from dialing her number as he drove home.
A whole week until their next date? Damn it.
CHAPTER 8
“How many minutes on Table Three’s beef wellington?” Vina called out as she plated a hanger steak with a side of shallots and butter.
“One more minute, Chef,” Sasha, the chef at the meat station, called out.
“Oscar, did you hear that?” Vina turned slightly to glance at her Sous-Chef.
“Yes, Chef,” Oscar called back. “Working on the salad right now.”
Marcus, the chef in charge of appetizer, sidled next to Vina with a pan of risotto. “Table Six’s risotto.”
“Let me see that.” Vina dipped her spoon into the rice mixture and tasted it Making a sour face, she said, “Overdone. Do it again.”
“Sorry, Chef,” Marcus apologized as he raced back to his station.
“Don’t be sorry. Be better,” Vina warned. Despite her curt tone, she was actually enjoying herself. Some people found the high-pressure high-temperature atmosphere of a restaurant kitchen too stressful, she found it exhilarating. She loved the organized chaos that came with a busy kitchen. She loved the merging of sweet, sour and spicy scents as food sizzled and boiled. She loved cooking with people with various talents, loved learning new recipes. But most of all, she loved the delighted expressions of diners after they tasted her food. It made her proud that she’d done that – made them happy.
“Sasha, how are we on that wellington?” she called out again.
“Walking to the window,” Sasha answered as she took out the meal from the oven and started towards Vina.
“I’m right behind you,” Oscar called out. The two chefs arrived at Vina’s side almost at the same time.
“Nice. Nice.” Vina nodded approvingly as she cut the wellington and inspected it. The pastry was puffy and flaky enough, and the meat at the center was slightly pink, just the way she liked it. Smiling, she transferred it from the cutting board to the plates, she’d already set out. “Good job, Sasha.”
“Thank you, Chef.” Sasha smiled. “I’m starting on the Table Eight’s chicken.”
“Hurry with it. They’ve been waiting for more than ten minutes.”
“Yes, Chef.” Sasha strode away.
“What about my salad?” Oscar asked, his tone a tad pouty. “Isn’t it good?”
“It’s always good,” Vina complimented as she spooned some of the aforementioned onto the plates. “That’s why I don’t even bother saying anything anymore.”
He grinned. “Thank you, Chef.”
Vina chuckled as she watched him strut back to his station like a rooster who’d just been told it was the Don Juan of the henhouse.
Despite it being a Monday, Tellers was booming and their diners kept the kitchen busy. Vina spent the next hour shifting between tasting food, plating ready meals, taking orders, reading them out to her chefs and sometimes even helping out at stations that were lagging behind. In fact, she was so busy that she didn’t notice that April was around until the woman showed up at the kitchen window.
“What are you doing here?” Vina looked up from the meal she was plating. “Aren’t you supposed to be off today?”
“How am I supposed to rest at home when Stacy keeps messing up?” April complained.
If it were up to her fiancée Roman, sh
e would’ve already quit working. But April refused to take a break because she was just in her first trimester of pregnancy. Was she supposed to spend the next seven months with her feet up? As a compromise, the couple had agreed to hire an assistant-hostess to help April out while she took three days off each week instead of one. Unfortunately, their current hire, Stacy, was not quite as experienced in handling their front-house as April was.
“How could she let the front-desk reserve all the tables? How many times have I told her to hold at least two tables for high-profile walkins?” April complained, “She almost sent Mia González home. Mia González.”
“I assume this Mia González is someone important?” Vina asked even as she handed the ready plates to a waiting server.
“Of course. Don’t you watch TV? She’s a telenovela actress – a very popular one.” April ranted on, “It’s lucky that I’d booked a table under an anonymous name otherwise we would have been screwed.”
Vina spun around to give her chefs the details of the next order before she turned her attention back to her friend. “I’m sure Stacy would’ve found a way to handle it. If you keep holding her hand, she’s never going to learn to think on her feet.”
“I suppose you’re right.” April sighed. A moment later, she perked up. “Enough about Stacy. I didn’t come into the restaurant because of her. I came here because of you.”
“Me? What did I do?”
Grinning, April leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially. “You got yourself a fake boyfriend.”
“Hush!” Vina immediately glanced sideways to make sure none of their coworkers were listening in on the conversation. “You’re not supposed to talk about that here.”
“Sorry. Sorry. But I’m dying of curiosity here and talking on the phone just isn’t cutting it,” April whined with a pout.
“Fine, we’ll talk about it later. After the kitchen’s closed,” Vina promised just as a waitress came by with an order.
“I’ll hold you to that,” April warned before she headed back to the dining room.