“Are you kidding? Of course I am!” The thought of fronting a placement of this caliber has my belly fluttering. “When do I start?”
Julia smiles at me. “How’s now for you?”
This is the opportunity I’ve been looking for, a chance to prove myself to Julie, to get that promotion. I return her smile tenfold. “Now’s great.”
CHAPTER 25
Jake
Although it’s Monday and Manger is officially closed, I head into the restaurant in the early afternoon. And anyway, there’s no Taylor to distract me for the day as I’d planned, and it would do me some good to think about something other than her for a while. A man can teeter on the edge of obsession when he’s finally captured the heart of the woman he’s loved for over ten years, you know.
There’s something about a pristine and sparkling clean, empty kitchen I’ve always liked. I guess it’s the calm before the culinary storm, a platform for my creative food ideas to flow, unhindered by people, menus, the daily running of the restaurant. I hang my jacket up on one of the hooks and look around. Everything is in its place, ready to go, the place silent but for the distant sound of a man groaning out in the dining room.
What the hell?
I push through the swinging doors and pad across the carpet through the restaurant as I search for where the sound emanates from. It doesn’t take me long. Slumped in a chair, his usually aristocratically foppish hairstyle arranged just so now in disarray, a half empty bottle of Hennessy cognac—the expensive kind—in his hand, is Frederick Leighton-Blyth. Count Chocula himself. My boss.
“Frederick.”
He looks up at me through hooded eyes. “Oh, it’s you.”
“What’s going on? Everything all right?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you look like you haven’t slept in days and perhaps drunk half a bottle of that cognac you’ve got in your hand.”
“This?” He lifts the bottle up. “This, my dear friend, is good stuff. Do you want some?” He offers me the bottle, and the liquid sloshes about inside.
I take it from him and place it on a table behind us. “No, I’m good.” I pull a seat out from the table, swing it around, and sit down next to him.
“This place.” He looks around the restaurant, his eyes glistening. “This place is so special, you know that, Jake? What we have here, you and me, is so special.”
“You’re right about that.”
“That’s why this is so goddamn hard.” His anger flares, and he thumps the table with his fist. He’s not a big man, and not exactly what you’d call the physical type, so it sounds more like a light tap than a decent whack.
“Frederick, what’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you what’s going on: he’s cut me off,” Frederick spits.
“Who’s cut you off?” His drug dealer, his personal trainer? Neither seem likely.
“The King himself, the High Supreme Emperor of my world.”
“I’m sorry, man, you’ve lost me.”
“Baxter Leighton-Blythe the third. Not to be confused with Baxter Leighton-Blythe the fourth, my over-achieving, over-perfect, over-everything older brother. The firstborn who can do no wrong. Not like me. Oh, no. Me the failure, me the one who messes everything up he ever touches, me the one Father thinks should never have been born.”
I’d never taken Frederick for a drama queen before, but that was quite some pity speech.
“That must really suck.” Never having had my father give me enough money that it would hurt to have it cut off, I can only imagine how he feels.
“It does, you’re absolutely right, Jake. You put it so eloquently. It sucks.” He pats his chest as though looking for something. “Where’s my drink gone?”
“I think you’ve had enough. How about I brew you up some fresh coffee? I was going to put a pot on for myself, anyway.”
He studies my face for what feels like a long time. “I wish I was more like you.”
What, sober? “In what way?”
“You’re taking this all so well. You’re unmoved, nothing bothers you. You, Jake Harrison, are an island. That’s what I need to be, an island. An island in the middle of a vast sea, where no one can touch me, where I can be free to do what I want without Father looking down his large, hooked nose at me.”
Yup, the sauce has definitely leached into his brain.
“Look, I can see this has upset you. But maybe it’ll be a good thing?”
His laugh is short, sharp, and full of venom. “A good thing? How the hell can my father cutting me off be a good thing? Have you gone mad?”
Oh, to live in Frederick’s world, to have his perspective on life. Sure, it looks crappy right now, but up until this moment, I’d bet my bottom dollar he’s lived a charmed life, a life of privilege, a life of plenty—even if his big brother is some kind of wunderkind.
“I dunno, Frederick. Maybe you can learn to stand on your own two feet? Grab the silver lining?”
He shakes his head. “You don’t get it. All this,” he gestures around us, “is over. Gone. No more.”
Anxiety hits me in the chest. “What did you say?”
“I can’t afford to keep this place anymore.”
“But-but we’re turning a profit, we’re the hot new place in town, full every lunch and dinner, waitlists coming out our asses.”
“It means nothing.”
I stand abruptly, the chair scraping across the hardwood floor behind me. “Of course it means something. It means everything.”
“Not when Father owns the building, it doesn’t.”
I feel like the air has been sucked from my lungs. “He owns the building?”
He lets out a long sigh as though he’s got to explain something to a child. “Father bought this place years ago. He used to have a taqueria here, and of course, there are the apartments above. I asked him if I could have it, and he gave it to me. Now, he’s taking it back. Just like that.” He tries to snap his fingers but misses.
I sit down heavily back in the chair, the room blurring around me. I’d been considering going out on my own, parting ways with Frederick, and was sorely tempted by the idea. But this? This is like having it ripped from my hands, taken before we’ve even made anything of the place. “So, it really is over?”
“I’m afraid so. Manger is officially dead.”
I’m vaguely aware as he stands and moves, returning a few seconds later. He pushes something in front of me. “Here. This’ll help.”
I look at the bottle of cognac and absently take it from him. But I don’t drink. I’m too stunned. Manger is gone, and with it, my livelihood.
What the hell am I going to do now?
CHAPTER 26
Taylor
I press the buzzer to Jake’s building in Marina, glance down at my black, patent leather high heels, and smile to myself. Although I’m not exactly “naked but for the shoes” as Jake requested this morning—San Francisco may be known as liberal, but it’s not a nudist colony—I know I can deal to that with a simple unbuckling of my trench coat. Yes, that’s right, I’ve gone old-school sexy for Jake.
He buzzes me in, and I climb the flight of stairs to his second-floor condo, my anticipation at his reaction mounting with each step. At number four, I knock lightly, and Jake immediately pulls the door open.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he says, pulling me in for a hug.
“Right back atcha.” To his surprise, I push him inside and close the door behind me. I look down at my shoes and then back up at him. “I just came by to say hello.”
“The shoes?”
“The shoes.”
“I like, very much.”
“But wait, there’s more.”
“Steak knives?” he offers with a sardonic smile.
By way of reply, I untie my trench and slowly unbutton it as he watches with mounting interest. I slip it off my shoulders and allow it to fall to the floor. “No riding crop, but I thought this might do
.”
“Hell, yes,” he replies, his voice deep and guttural. He reaches out and picks me up, and I let out a delighted squeal as he carries me down the hallway to his bedroom.
Some time later, both of us hot and panting on the bed, my shoes now somewhere discarded on the floor, exact location unknown, we work on catching our breath as we snuggle up together in our post-coital glow.
“You know, that was quite possibly the best way to say ‘hello’ I’ve ever had,” Jake says with a kiss to my forehead as I rest my head on his chest.
“I’m more than happy to oblige. I can come over to say ‘hello’ regularly if you like.”
“Oh, I like. Especially in those shoes.”
“They really did it for you, huh?”
“No, you did it for me. In the shoes.”
I laugh. “Glad we cleared that one up. You know what? I had an awesome day today. Julia is trusting me with a big client. In fact, he asked to work with me specifically. Said we had a ‘connection.’”
“He?”
I lift my head to look at him and swallow. “Don’t get all angry and broody and stuff on me about this, okay?”
He narrows his gaze. “Why? Who is he?”
“Jorge Dvorak.”
“Never heard of him.”
“No, but you have seen him. At your restaurant. Julia and I had lunch with him last week.”
He locks his jaw. “Oh. Him.”
I nudge him in the ribs.
“Ouch!”
“Don’t be jealous. It’s only for work, nothing more.”
“Look, I know guys, and he wasn’t interested in just working with you. He wanted to get into your pants.”
“Oh, he did not.” As I say the words, I wonder if Jake is right. He was very flirty and had asked to work with me specifically.
“Watch yourself, okay? I’ve only just got you, I’m not going to lose you to some guy called Jorge.”
I pull myself up and kiss him on the mouth, his obvious jealousy making my heart soar. “You won’t lose me. How was your day?”
“The opposite of awesome. I, ah, had some bad news.”
“What?”
“Manger is shutting down, or rather it has shut down.”
“Oh, my God. What’s happened?”
“I go away for one lousy weekend.” He shrugs, trying to make light of what has obviously affected him deeply. And right it should. Manger is his passion, it’s his baby. He may have been toying with going out on his own, but that was to get away from the likes of bosses like Frederick, not because he doesn’t love what he does.
“Tell me everything.”
We sit in bed, wrapped in nothing but sheets, and he tells me the story of how Frederick has been “cut off” by his father and has had to shut the restaurant. As he speaks, I can tell this has completely taken the wind from his sails, and I wish more than anything I could do something to help.
“What are you going to do now?”
“I guess I’ve got to pick up the pieces, start again.”
“It won’t be like starting again, though. You were the head chef at the hottest new place. The papers said so. You’ll have restaurants beating down your door to get you to run their kitchens, you’ll see.”
He chews on his lip. “But that’s the thing, I don’t want to run someone else’s kitchen. I want to be my own boss, with my own place. I just don’t know how to make that happen.”
“You’ll work things out. I know you will.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” His fingers find my neck and tangle themselves up in my hair, sending a shiver down my spine. “Maybe you could distract me from my problems some?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“This.” He gently brushes his lips against mine, and I swear every nerve in my body moves to my lips.
This. This is what I want. This is what I’ve been missing from my life. Jake and me, together, sharing our lives—and our bodies. As I run my hands up his back to his broad, muscular shoulder, my lips pressed against his, I push any remnant of doubt I’d been clinging onto from my mind.
I know this is exactly where I belong.
CHAPTER 27
Taylor
Ash looks absolutely stunning tonight. Her dress is simply perfect for her tall, lean frame, the tiny seed pearls on her bodice catching the light as she moves. Her hair is in loose curls around her pretty face, her long veil with satin trim flowing down her back. She’s every bit the picture-perfect bride with her picture-perfect groom in a picture-perfect setting.
We’re standing in a small forest of redwoods in Marin County, California, across the Golden Gate from San Francisco, waiting for the bride and groom’s first dance together. The ceremony, the speeches, everything has been just as Ash envisioned, and the forest is rustic and romantic, with lights hanging from the trees, and tables with crisp white tablecloths and hurricane lamps set around a central dance floor.
I adjust the sash of my own dress, smoothing my hands down the silky material of the A-line skirt. My eyes skim past the dancing couple across the dance floor to the man standing on the other side. Jake. He’s dressed in a tux and crisp white shirt, looking like he’d just stepped off a red carpet in Hollywood. His strong jaw is still covered in his characteristic stubble, but gone is the messy hair I’d run my fingers through only last night at his place.
His eyes land on mine, and his face creases into a smile.
My heart skips a beat, and that wonderfully warm feeling I’ve finally allowed myself to feel sweeps through me.
“I still cannot believe your date is Jorge Dvorak, the ‘hot nerd,’” Lacey says as she shakes her head next to me.
I tear my eyes from the hot chef across the dance floor to look at her. “He’s actually a really great guy. I’m hoping he’ll sign a contract tomorrow.”
“I don’t get it. You told me you weren’t into him, and here he is as your date.”
I shrug nonchalantly. Jorge as my date is simply one tactic in my masterplan to place him in the Head of Marketing role at Trikal. When I mentioned I was going to this wedding tonight at one of our meetings during the week, he made it more than obvious he wanted to be my date.
Jake was less than happy about the plan, but as we’re still flying under the radar as a couple, it’s actually the perfect cover. Although, of course, he insists we don’t need a cover. But I do. Still. As amazing as it is to be with him, to share what we share, his whole family is here tonight. It’s a big step to tell them about us, and I want the timing to be just right.
“Come with me, I’ll introduce you,” I say to Lacey.
“Hell to the yes,” Lacey says with a grin the size of the redwood forest.
We make our way through the guests to where Jorge has been talking with Big Red, although what they have in common is beyond me.
He flashes me his smile. “There you are.” He kisses me on the cheek.
“Jorge, I’d like you to meet Lacey. Lacey, this is Jorge.”
“Hi, Jorge,” Lacey says, her voice breathless.
“Hello. It’s good to meet you.” He takes his hand in hers. “You know, you two are a couple of beautiful twins in your matching dresses.”
“Well, we are bridesmaids,” Lacey says with a shy smile.
Wait, Lacey, shy? That’s a first.
“And you look incredible,” Jorge replies, his attention focused solely on Lacey.
As I watch the exchange—and feel like a total third wheel to what has begun to unfold before my eyes—I press my lips together to suppress a grin. Everything is working out just the way I planned. You see, I did my research. Not only is Jorge Dvorak a major mover and shaker in the tech world, he’s also got a major thing for pretty brunettes. I may have been in his sights a handful of minutes ago, but with the prettier, sexier version of me standing right in front of him, I’m not anymore.
I place my hand on Jorge’s arm. “Let’s talk tomorrow about that contract.”
“Yes. Sounds gre
at,” he replies.
“Tell me that story about the stingray again, Big Red.” I hook my arm through his and lead him away from Lacey and Jorge to allow them some time to talk—and, knowing what they’re both like, flirt like there’s no tomorrow.
“It is a great story, right?” Big Red says.
“Oh, totally.” I half listen to the story I’ve already heard several times before as we make our way back to the edge of the dance floor. We arrive as Ashley and Tim are announced by the emcee as Mr. and Mrs. Dawkins and walk together, hand in hand, out onto the dance floor.
I stand and watch the bride and groom sway to the music. They’re gazing at one another as though there’s no one else in the room, or rather, forest. My heart expands in my chest. I know how it feels to share that look with someone, to feel loved, to feel part of something more than being just one person, alone. And I can tell you, it’s just as completely fantastically, amazingly incredible as I’d imagined.
“Harrison!” Big Red exclaims beside me, and I look up into Jake’s gorgeous green eyes. And wham! it hits me, square between the eyes, just as it does every time. That intoxicating combination of love and lust, mingled together into the most potent cocktail imaginable.
“You ready for this dance, Big Red?” Jake asks. “Hey, Tay Tay. Looking ravishing tonight, as usual.” He waggles his eyebrows at me suggestively, and heat pools in my belly.
“I’m meant to be dancing with Lacey, but she’s gone off somewhere with that guy I was talking to. Hey, wasn’t he your date?” Big Red asks me.
“Yeah. Where is that guy?” I pretend to be annoyed.
“Your plan is in action, huh?” Jake says under his breath, and I nod. “Good. That means I get you back, all to myself.”
There’s a change in music, and the emcee invites the wedding party to join the bride and groom on the floor. Big Red mutters about having to go find Lacey as Jake offers me his hand and leads me out onto the dance floor. He holds me close as we move to the music, and I’m acutely aware that all eyes are on us. We’ve managed to keep our new relationship under wraps all week, but now, out in public, with his arms wrapped around my waits, holding me to him, anxiety begins to churn in my belly.
The Right Guy Page 15