“Like it?” Lia asked with a smirk.
He coughed and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Yes, it’s very good. But then you knew that.”
Her grin widened. “And now you know it, too. Good evening.”
She turned to leave, but Vanessa stopped her. “A moment, please. What do you call this treat?”
Lia stared directly at him and replied, “Lasagne fritti con gamberi e aragosta.” She returned to the kitchen before he had a chance to ask her to translate.
Vanessa dove into the next entree. “Abso-fucking-lutely brilliant.”
He took a gulp of wine to soothe the tickle in this throat and congratulated himself on getting through an awkward situation. “That went well.”
“Yes, if you leave out the part where she looked she wanted to skewer me.” She came back to the chicken and took another bite. “Why do I have the sneaking suspicion there’s more to you two than what you’re telling me?”
The back of his neck itched. “Because there is.”
“Out with it.” Vanessa chewed and waited, knife and fork still in hand.
“It’s a bit of a comedy of errors.”
“Let me guess—you shagged her and didn’t know she was one of your tenants.”
Now the itch had moved to between his shoulder blades. He rubbed his back against his chair. “Not exactly, but close.”
“Close what? Close in that you almost shagged her? Or close in that you didn’t know who she was?”
“Both.”
The knife and fork fell to Vanessa’s plate with a clang. “You’ve gotten yourself into a bloody mess, haven’t you?” She crossed her arms on the table. “Now, what are you going to do about it?”
He dug his fingers into his palms to keep from clawing at his thighs, they itched so much. Being under the scrutiny of one of his oldest friends while in a wool suit was anything but comfortable. “What can I do? I can’t mix business with pleasure.”
“Don’t be a complete nutter. You know as well as I do that you were never one for playing by the rules.”
“That was then, and this is now.” He rocked from side to side, soothing the burning across his lower back. “I doubt she’ll have anything to do with me unless I promise to let her keep the restaurant.”
“And that would be a bad thing how? Think about it, Adam. You’d still have a top notch chef working here, and you’d be shagging a girl who’s far more fit than you deserve.”
“And how would I know that she wasn’t just using me to get what she wanted?” The itching had become almost unbearable now. He raked his nails along his arm, praying it would end soon.
Vanessa drew her brows together. “You all right?”
“No, I feel like I have an army of fire ants dining on me.” Sweat beaded along his forehead. If it didn’t stop soon, he risked stripping off every item of clothing he had on just so he could get some relief. “The only time I’ve ever felt like this was the time I broke out in hives after eating shrimp.”
Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath. “I didn’t know you were allergic to prawns.”
He paused as Vanessa dove back into her handbag. “What are you talking about?”
“Gamberi is Italian for prawns. The dish she made for us—it was fried lasagna with prawns and lobster.”
“Let me see your mirror.” She handed it to him, and he peered at his reflection in the dim light. His lips were already swelling, and raised splotches dotted his cheeks and neck. “That vicious—”
“Don’t get your knickers in a bunch. Even I didn’t know you were allergic to prawns, and I’ve known you for years. I doubt she gave it to you on purpose.” Vanessa handed him a small white pill. “Now take that before your throat swells up and you stop breathing.”
He swallowed the tablet and pulled several hundred-dollar bills out of his wallet—more than enough to cover the check and leave the waiter a good tip. “I need to grab that EpiPen in my glove compartment.”
“I couldn’t agree more. You’re getting all puffy.” She laid her napkin aside and gave a wistful sigh. “It’s a shame to leave all this lovely food behind.”
Adam stood and loosened his collar. “I’ll bring you back.”
“So I guess that means you won’t be closing this place down.” She grinned and bounded up from her chair, locking her arm through his. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all night.”
He’d agree to anything if it meant he’d stop itching. He just prayed Vanessa was right and Lia didn’t do this out of spite.
****
Lia flipped through the stack of receipts bound together by a paper clip and punched the numbers into her spreadsheet. Sales tonight had been higher than normal, but then, not every table ordered five entrees for every course like Adam and his date did.
She clenched her hand into a fist, hating every twinge of jealousy that filled her when she pictured the two of them together. It was obvious they’d been together for a long time, from the way they ate off each other’s plates to the way they left arm and arm with each other. The only consolation came with the knowledge that Adam was no different than Trey, and she was better off without a two-timing bastard like him.
At least she’d proven her point to him. He’d even praised her shrimp dish in front of his date. She clicked her spreadsheet and stared at the numbers. Maybe if she offered to pay double, maybe even triple her current rent, he’d let her stay. It would mean she’d have to stay at her mother’s a bit longer, but it would be worth it to keep La Arietta.
She threw the receipts on her desk and leaned back in her chair. No matter what solution she came up with, it still came back to Adam choosing her over Amadeus Schlittler. Thankfully, Dax’s suggestion that she sleep with him was out of the question, especially now that she knew he already had a girlfriend. She’d been tempted to tell the stunning British woman all about Adam’s behavior on the boat this weekend but had thought better of it. The last thing she needed was to cause a scene in her restaurant.
A creak came from the opposite end of the kitchen, and Lia’s breath caught. Everyone else had left a good half hour ago, and she’d locked the doors behind them. She reached under her desk for the Louisville Slugger she’d kept hidden just for situations like this and peered through the cracked-open door.
A shadow moved across the dark kitchen, running into the metal workstation where the salads were made. A low grunt filled the silence.
She tightened her grip on the bat. Her office not only was the only light in the whole place, but also where the safe was located. Whoever was out there would be drawn here.
The shadow came closer. It was a man, probably an inch or two over six feet, medium build. She jotted this down to memory so she could give some description to the police in case he got away. Of course, he’d have to survive her home-run swing first.
She brought the bat up to her shoulder and waited. The door swung open, and she attacked like Sammy Sosa going after a fastball. The bat connected with the man’s midsection, dropping him to his knees. She followed it up with a sharp swing up that knocked him to the ground. “That’ll teach you to break into my restaurant.”
But instead of some kid in a ski mask, her trespasser wore a dark suit.
The bat slipped from her hands, and a string of Italian expletives exploded from her mouth. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Adam groaned and rolled to his side, leaving a puddle of blood on the floor next to him. “Last I checked, I still owned this building. Besides, your front door was left unlocked.”
A few more four-letter words flew from her lips as she stepped over him and went to fetch a napkin and a bag of ice. He’d managed to rise to a sitting position when she returned. “Let me take a look.”
He shoved her off. “You’ve done enough damage.”
She flipped the lights on and took a better look at his injuries. His nose was bleeding, and his eyes were puffy. A splotchy rash covered his face and hands. “I’ll take the blame
for the nose, but that’s it.”
He stood slowly, wincing with every inch but still refusing her help. “Your gamberi are responsible for the hives.”
Shit! If she’d known he was allergic to shrimp, she would’ve never given them to him. Her desire to wow him with her cooking had backfired in epic proportions.
He snatched the napkin from her hand and hobbled to one of the workstations, leaning on it while he tried to staunch the trickle of blood coming from his nostrils. “Why do you have a baseball bat in your office?”
“I’m often here alone at the end of the night. It’s safer than a gun.”
“Especially with a swing like yours.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and hissed. “I think you broke it.”
“I seriously doubt that. Now quit whining and put some ice on it.” She heaved a sigh of relief when she saw his nose still maintained its perfectly straight profile. “So, back to my original question—what are you doing here?”
He pressed the ice bag to his nose, muffling his words. “I wanted to know why you gave me something with shrimp in it.”
“I didn’t know you were allergic to shrimp. I just thought you didn’t like them, and I wanted to prove to you that I could create a dish with them that even you’d love.” Her head throbbed as though she were the one who’d been on the receiving end of the bat. Instead of helping her cause, she’d made an even bigger mess of things. “I’m sorry about the hives.”
He lowered the ice bag enough to reveal one bloodshot eye. “But not the aggravated assault.”
Any sympathy she was beginning to feel for him ebbed as a new wave of indignation crawled up her spine. “How was I supposed to know it was you? You could’ve at least announced your presence or something like that. You know, a little ‘Hello, I’m not a thief breaking into your restaurant to rob and rape you.’ And last I checked, my name is still on the sublease, which doesn’t give you permission to come and go as you please.”
“Point made, even though your front door was unlocked.” He adjusted the ice bag so it covered his eyes again. “If I dare come here again after hours, I’ll wear protective padding.”
“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you didn’t get a bruised up a few times growing up. I know you have six brothers.”
“Yes, but I’m the oldest, which meant I was always bigger than them.” He paused before adding, “At least until we got into high school.”
She covered her mouth to stifle the giggle that arose when she pictured his six brothers ganging up on him. Her anger evaporated. She lowered the edge of the ice bag and met his gaze. “Next time, I promise not to swing as hard if I know it’s you,” she teased.
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Not as hard, eh?”
She grinned and nodded, releasing the cold plastic bag and moving on to the mess he’d left on the floor. After sopping it up with a few paper towels, she sprayed the area with a bleach solution. “So, what did your date think of the evening?”
“Are you talking about Vanessa?”
“Was that her name?” She scrubbed the tile with renewed vigor, making sure she got every last drop of blood up.
“Vanessa is not my girlfriend.”
“That’s right, because you’re too busy to date.” And too busy courting Amadeus Schlittler to take over my restaurant. The paper towel she was using disintegrated into shreds.
“I am.” He tossed the bag of ice into the sink. “Vanessa is an old friend of mine and a food critic for the London Times. She was shopping in New York earlier this week, so I flew her over tonight to see what she thought of La Arietta.”
Lia froze. A food critic from London? “Did she like it?”
“The woman wouldn’t stop raving about your food all the way to the airport.”
The breath she’d been holding whooshed out. She sat back on her knees and let the news sink in. “Too bad we’ll be forced to close at the end of next month.”
“Damn it, Lia.” Adam paced back and forth in front of her. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”
“I’m not the one who brought a food critic to dinner.”
He crouched down in front of her and stared at the grout between the tiles. “I find myself in a very uncomfortable situation, one where I might have to change my plans.”
Her heart fluttered. “So you’re going to renew my lease?”
“I didn’t say that.” He snapped his head up and stared at her as though that penetrating blue gaze could bend her to his will. “I still want Schlittler to open up a restaurant in one of my Chicago properties, and nothing is going to change my mind about that. However, if there’s another location that meets his needs, then I’ll let you stay.”
“Oh, thank you!” Lia flung her arms around him, knocking him flat on his back. His breath came out in a grunt, reminding her of the injuries she’d caused. She raised herself up on her arms. “Oh, sorry.”
Even though he winced, he pulled her back to him. His heart hammered under her hands. He brushed her hair out of her face and asked softly, “Are you always this rough with men?”
Every single warning bell in her body went off, telling her to back away from Adam now, but she continued to close the gap between them. “Just the ones that drive me crazy.”
“Lucky me.” He guided her those last few inches until their lips met. The kiss was slow, sensual, controlled. In other words, different than the ones they’d shared on the boat, but still having the same dizzying effect on her.
He broke his lips away from hers. “I hate to end this, but a kitchen floor is not very romantic.”
She scrambled back, her face on fire. What was it about Adam Kelly that made her lose any bit of common sense she had? She gave him a nervous laugh. “Yes, I suppose it’s a bit hard and cold.”
He got up and brushed the invisible wrinkles out of his immaculate suit. “So, does La Arietta ever have a slow night?”
Back to business again. Probably for the best since she turned into a ball of raging hormones every time he touched her. “Not really. We’ve been booked solid every night for the last three months.”
“Is there a night where you could get away from work?”
“I don’t like being away from here.” A smudge on the stainless steel workstation caught her eye. She grabbed a towel and polished it away. “I worry something will slip if I don’t oversee every little detail.”
He started to laugh, but ended up covering his nose with his hands. “And I thought I was a control freak.”
“La Arietta is all that I have, and I’m the one responsible for her success.”
“But you need a break every now and then.”
“Oh, no, no.” A spatter of grease remained on the side of the stove, begging her to remove it. She sprayed the bleach solution on it and scrubbed. “If I step away for even a second, I come back to a huge mess.”
Adam caught her elbow and led her away from the stove. “So there’s no one here you can trust?”
The heat from his touch flowed up her arm, unknotting the muscles in her shoulder and tempting her to bury herself in his arms. She glanced back at the stove to make sure the grease was gone. “Well, maybe I could trust Julie, my sous chef, for a few hours.”
“Which brings me back to my original question—which night would be the best for your getaway from here?”
Her spreadsheet popped into her mind with the daily listings of sales and profits. “I suppose Sunday would be the slowest night for business.”
“Good, because I’d like to take you out then.”
Her pulse stuttered. “You mean like on a date?”
He leaned his head to the side and furrowed his brows. “Well, maybe not exactly a date. Maybe more like a chance to spend some time alone with you and get to know you better.”
She grinned and leaned into him. “Like a date.”
“I don’t have time to date.”
“Neither do I.” She breathed in his scent and closed her eyes. As much as she loved La
Arietta, the idea of spending time alone with Adam tempted her enough to say, “Sunday sounds good to me.”
“It sounds good to me, too.” His voice rumbled low and hungry. He ran his fingers along her cheek, catching on her jaw and tilting her face up. For a second, he looked ready to kiss her again. Then he released her and took a step back. “I’ll call you to set up the time and place.”
Her stomach flip-flopped, but she couldn’t tell if it was due to excitement or nerves. Maybe a combination of both.
He paused at the door leading to the darkened dining room. “By the way, I promise to announce my presence if I ever decide to visit you after hours, so please leave the bat in your office.”
She laughed again, this time without the nervous edge. “I promise I’ll leave it under my desk if I know it’s you.”
“Glad to hear that.” His smile fell into something more wistful and serious. “Until Sunday, then.”
Chapter Five
“I need some advice.”
Adam winced as soon as he said the words. As the oldest, he’d always been the one his brothers turned to when they needed advice. Now he was on the phone with his youngest brother, trying not to sound completely pathetic.
“And you came to me?” Gideon asked. “Must be pretty bad if you’re venturing this far down the totem pole.”
Gideon might be barely old enough to legally drink, but he was the most like Adam when it came to temperament. Plus, it helped that his youngest brother had a reputation for leaving ladies swooning in the aisles, thanks to his films.
“I have a date Sunday night—”
“You have a date?” Disbelief dripped from his brother’s voice. “Mister ‘I’m too busy rescuing Kelly Properties from the brink of disaster to give a woman the time of day?’”
“I’m not that uptight,” Adam countered, even though his inner voice was calling him a liar. “And the business has never teetered on the brink of disaster.”
“You’d never know it from the way you’re always going on about increasing expenses and decreasing revenues and a sluggish economy. Makes me happy my job is recession proof.”
The Sweetest Seduction, Breakaway Hearts Page 5