He’d stay put until the shindig was over, just to find out her name and to spend some time with her.
He speared a morsel of beef with his fork and popped it into his mouth. Chewing slowly, he stared at the inky water below.
Game on, darlin’.
Lena
Lena peeked out the door and scanned the ballroom for the umpteenth time, searching for Tank. Since she’d left him at the carving station, she hadn’t seen him again. The chair he was assigned to was empty. She’d checked and double-checked the seating chart soon after the snobby blonde dragged him to the dance floor so she could easily find him.
He probably left. I should’ve toned down the smartass remarks. She pulled her hair back in a high ponytail, feeling the rush of cool air against her neck. I don’t care if he’s here or not. He was a handsome man with a great build—that’s all. Good-looking guys who know it are a dime a dozen. Who cares? She did, and that’s what annoyed her.
When she’d first seen Tank talking with Melanie at the buffet table, she’d stopped in her tracks. Standing well over six feet, he was every woman’s fantasy come true. His muscular build, sandy-colored hair, warm brown eyes, and rugged features took her breath away. What did her in was the sleekly cut jacket he wore, pressed perfectly against his enticing broad shoulders, and the black dress pants that hugged a narrow waist and hips.
Lena licked her lips at the memory and scanned the room, again.
“Are you going to stop trying to find that hunk, or are we all supposed to pretend we don’t notice? You’re not being very subtle.” Lena playfully narrowed her eyes at her best server, Charity, who was laughing at her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She picked up an empty tray. “I’m taking a general survey of the party, that’s all.”
“Are you sure you’re not taking a general survey of him?” Charity looked out over the guests. “Is he still here?”
“Who?” Lena replied.
Charity shook her head. “The guy you kept talking to at the buffet table earlier.”
“Oh, him.” She waved her hand dismissively in the air. “He was just another guest. I have no idea which ones are still here or which ones have left. We’re responsible for the food, not the partygoers.”
Matthew burst out of the kitchen with another tray of champagne glasses. “These people can drink. They’re lapping up bottles of Dom Pérignon like it’s bottled water.”
“I have a feeling we’re going to be here for a long time,” Lena groaned.
Matthew nodded. “That’s what I’m afraid of. Everyone’s been telling me how much they loved the food.”
“That’s good to know.”
“I better get going—the natives are going to get restless.” He scurried away, the tray balancing a bit precariously in his hand.
Lena looked out at the thinning crowd and smiled. Everything seemed to have turned out well. The food was a success, and a few elite guests had asked her to cater their parties in the near future.
So why the hell wasn’t she reveling in it? Instead, her attention kept drifting back to Drew. Or Tank. No, Drew, because Tank is ridiculous. Why am I obsessing about this? All they did was flirt with each other. She had to admit, she’d enjoyed it, and by the way he’d teased her, he seemed to like it too. But the way his heated gaze had trailed up and down her body made her shiver, taking her completely by surprise. Lena was pretty sure he would light her up like a neon sign, but she wasn’t looking for anything extracurricular. The catering and restaurant business were booming, and she’d reached most of her five-year goals in almost two. It wasn’t the time to become cocky or complacent; she had to keep pushing herself and reaching for the stars.
“Dating can wait,” she muttered under her breath, though she doubted he was the dating type. I bet he’s a real heartbreaker, and I sure don’t need that in my life. She cracked her knuckles and took a deep breath before lapsing into breakdown and cleanup mode for the night.
“Is it later?”
The deep, familiar voice thrummed along her nerve endings. She spun around, nearly jumping out of her skin as their eyes locked. Leaning casually against one of the stainless-steel counters, he was standing less than a foot away from her.
“You’re not allowed in here—staff only.”
“What are you gonna do about it?”
As he eyed her up and down like a hungry animal, she swallowed as she adjusted her black linen jacket and nibbled on her index finger. Catching herself, she forced her hand back down to her side.
“My name’s Lena.” She offered her other hand to the well-built man who was giving off some serious sexual vibes. “Nice to meet you, Drew.”
He took her hand in a warm, firm grip, then resumed checking her out.
“I’m up here.”
His gaze quickly snapped to hers. “I know that. And call me Tank. No one really calls me Drew.”
“The blonde did.” The minute the words were out of her mouth, she wished she could take them back.
A slow grin spread over Tank’s face. “I was Drew back in high school. You don’t need to worry about her.”
“The only thing I’m worried about is getting out of here before the crack of dawn.”
He took in the bustling kitchen staff. “Looks like your crew has things under control.”
“Where does Tank come from? Did you like to play with tiny plastic ARMY guys as a kid?”
Chuckling, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, no. I’m built like a tank, so when I’m around, people tend to get out of the way.”
“That can have its advantages. But the reason behind the nickname is a bit of a letdown.” She could barely hide the teasing smile creeping across her lips.
“You’re a spitfire, aren’t you?”
“What? You want it to be easy? That would be boring for a man like you.”
It was obvious he wasn’t a man without female companionship, and Lena wasn’t looking to be one of many, even if a roll between the sheets with him would be unforgettable. And maybe that was what she needed to beat down the constant stress of the restaurant industry: something without strings, something distracting, and nothing permanent—that was the paramount rule.
“You think you know so much about me?”
“Yeah, I’ve got an idea.”
“Let me just say, I’m used to easy. This” —he waved his hand in the space between them with a pleased grin— “is a good change.”
Why do you have to be so damn sexy?
Spreading her arms out, she told him, “I have to make sure everything’s going okay.” Translation: She had to get the hell away from him. Tank was making her body misbehave, and she didn’t like it one bit.
“I can lend a hand.”
Lena walked back into the ballroom with Tank at her heels. She looked around at the breaking down of the event and watched her staff put plates, chaffing dishes, and all sorts of cookware into large containers to take back with them on the truck. A few of the guests were still mingling on the moonlit lawn in the garden area, while some were hanging out around the bar area, downing drinks.