His cologne is sweet, and I find myself holding my breath against it.
“Good to see you, too. Thank you for this opportunity. Your restaurant is gorgeous. I love the exposed brick.”
His eyes dance as if he enjoys watching me talk. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“I’m always hungry.”
He motions for me to walk ahead of him through the restaurant. I jump slightly when I feel his palm on my lower back.
“You look like you’ve been cooking,” I say in hopes of breaking up the discomfort I feel.
He guides me into a dark wine cellar that has a single table set in the middle of the floor. “I worked the lunch shift. I try to do that as often as I can.” He pulls out a chair for me and then offers to take my coat.
“Thanks.”
He hangs my coat on a hook. “I thought we could talk business, get that out of the way, and then we can eat, and you can tell me if I’m any good at this whole cooking thing.” He winks and takes the seat across from me, and the intimate setting makes me a little uncomfortable. “Tell me about your last waitressing job.”
“Okay, but please don’t judge me too quickly.” I go on to tell him about my years at Chubby’s, which he thankfully finds entertaining rather than trashy.
He goes on to explain his plans for his new restaurant, that he wants it to be more relaxed, and that he thinks I’d be the perfect fit. “The pay is competitive. I doubt you’ll find better in the city. Full-time. Benefits. The tips should be obscene.” His gaze lingers on my face a little too long, making my skin hot. “You’ll have your pick of shifts.”
I should be bouncing in my seat with excitement at this kind of opportunity, but I feel overwhelmed, a little numb, and a lot desperate. I need to get out of Alexander’s place, and I have no other options. “It’s perfect. I’d love the chance to show you what I can do.”
His eyes flicker with something that takes me aback, but it disappears so quickly that I think I must’ve imagined it.
“Let’s talk relocation.”
I fear this is where the whole deal will fall apart. I don’t have the money to relocate in town, much less out of town.
“I’m leaving the day after tomorrow to start work on hiring a staff. If you’re looking to start immediately, I’d appreciate your help with the hiring.”
“What, you mean move to Arizona in two days?”
His smile is shy. “I realize it’s short notice, but I really could use the help. I’m renting a house near the restaurant. Five bedrooms. I’ll have the new chefs as well as my project manager staying with me, and, if you’re willing, there’s plenty of room for you.”
“Oh.” I thought I’d have a little more time to decide, time to plan.
“You’re welcome to come later, but if you’re eager to start earning a paycheck, you have the option.” He holds up a finger. “And, bonus, you’ll get to fly over on the private jet rather than fly commercial.”
“It sounds too good to be true.” Butterflies fight with a whisper of warning—most things in life that seem too good to be true usually are.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He pushes up from the table. “Now, we celebrate.” He brings over a bottle of wine and pours me a glass.
“Never had a job interview end with celebratory wine before.”
He winks. “Welcome to working for Billy Brady.”
He disappears into the kitchen and brings out two plates with short ribs artfully displayed. The meal is out of this world, and the conversation is mostly one-sided as he talks about where his love of cooking began. He shares stories about growing up in Florida, and I keep my childhood stories to myself. Over dessert and after his second glass of wine, he brings up the charity event.
“I saw you earlier in the night. I hoped I’d get the chance to meet you.” He holds out a bite of chocolate mousse. “You’ve got to try this.”
I hesitate to take a bite from his fork but tell myself he’s a little eccentric, and, now that I’ve agreed to work for him, I better get used to it. I take the bite. “Delicious.”
“Anyway, when I saw you at the silent auction, I took my chance.”
I smile politely, unsure how to respond, and take a bite of my bread pudding dessert.
“You really are a beautiful woman.”
I nearly choke and guzzle water to wash down the thick sweetness. “I’m sorry, but…” I set down my fork and ball my hands in my lap. “I feel like the lines are getting a little blurry here.”
He tilts his head, seeming entertained by me.
“Your intentions are purely professional when it comes to me, right?”
“Of course.”
“It’s just your compliments and”—I motion around the room—“all this. It feels more intimate than professional.”
He chuckles softly. “Food is romantic. Eating, drinking good wine, it’s an erotic experience. Forgive me for getting caught up in it.”
Erotic? Maybe he needs to see me eat a cheeseburger. Not a damn thing erotic about that.
“All right.” I’m sure once we’re in the chaos of opening a new restaurant, things will be more professional. I place my napkin on the table beside my plate. “I should go. I have a lot to do if I plan to be on that plane to Arizona the day after tomorrow.”
“Yes.” He stands and grabs my coat.
Rather than turn for him to help me put it on, I take it from him and drape it over my forearm.
“I’m so excited you’ve agreed to work with me,” he says while he walks me to the door. “You won’t regret it.”
When I turn around, I shove out a hand between us to avoid him coming in for another double-cheek kiss. “I look forward to it.”
He shakes my hand with a little frown of disappointment. “Text me your address, and I’ll have a driver pick you up and bring you to the airfield.”
I want James to take me, but it feels wrong to have Alexander’s staff shuttle me off to my new life, so I agree. “I will. Thanks again.”
He opens the door for me, and James sees me coming and has the back door of the car open so I can slide right inside.
“How did the interview go?” James says as we pull away from the restaurant.
“Great.” I close my eyes and take a deep inhale of Alexander’s scent, knowing now that my time in his presence is running out. “I got the job.”
“You don’t sound too excited.”
I look up to see James’s concerned eyes in the rearview mirror. I force a smile. “I am.”
“Good.” I see the hint of a frown tilt his lips. “Then congratulations.”
I put my chin in my hands and stare out the window, feeling the weight of what I’ve agreed to settle inside me. “Thanks.”
Alexander
I’m bent over my digital drafting table in my office, sketching out a new design for the Linquist project in Dubai.
The Monday after the charity event, he called asking for a North design, and the project is a welcome distraction. I’ve worked on it day and night for the last four days. If it weren’t for Mrs. Miller occasionally reminding me to eat and shower, I would probably die of starvation filthy in front of my design.