by Layla Hagen
I was betting on the fact that our delicious lunch would loosen her tongue.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s nothing. I’m just observing some interesting changes about you.”
I tried not to look too pleased that my bet had been so spot on.
“And what’s the verdict?”
She shook her head. “None yet. Still in observation phase.”
“I see. Well, you can add to your pool of data that Rob will stop by with dinner tonight.”
“Oh, duly noted.”
The rest of the afternoon just flew by, and it had been one of our best days yet. Damn, I was sure my good mood was having a magic effect on my clients, because I managed to upsell a lot more than usual.
At six o’clock, my phone beeped with an incoming message.
Rob: Can’t make it after all. Got a last-minute meeting. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.
Oh no. My stomach bottomed out. I’d been looking forward to our dinner so much. I swear, even my heart seemed a little heavier. I couldn’t believe I was so disheartened.
All of my past relationships had ended in disappointment, but I tried to channel Tess’s optimism. Besides, this was different. Rob seemed to legitimately care. He wanted to see me again, but he was just having a tough week. I needed to get out of this melancholy.
Pasting a smile on my face, I turned to my sister.
“Looks like Rob can’t make it after all.”
“Oh no.” Pouting, she placed both hands on my face and pressed her forehead to mine. “What do you say to another serving of burrito?”
“I’m in.”
***
On Friday, I officially had Rob withdrawals, which was why I had the crazy thought of surprising him tonight. He’d told me which restaurant he was at, so after closing the store, I stopped by Ladurée to grab some macarons and then headed to Tribeca. The closer I got, the giddier I felt.
This whole week he’d been texting me, sending me pics of dishes, the crowds—his week had been crazy, yet he was thoughtful enough to text me.
The restaurant was so packed that I could barely make out anything, let alone spot Rob... or find a table. It took a lot of eyelash batting and begging to convince the guy at the entrance to let me in even though I didn’t have a reservation.
After some more eyelash batting, they showed me to a tiny bar table against the wall that only had space to seat one person.
Wow, this place was amazing. Even though it was packed and the noise level was beyond loud, I loved it. It had a high ceiling, with warm lighting coming from modern light installations and cozy red brick window arches. It was a contemporary look decorating a very old interior—nice. At the very back was the kitchen, which was open for everyone to see.
You could even sit at the counter there and watch the chefs in action. To my surprise, Rob was one of the chefs. He hadn’t told me that he’d be cooking. He was explaining something to one of the cooks, but of course I couldn’t hear anything from where I was seated.
I left the Ladurée bag of sweets on my seat and made my way through the crowd. The closer I got, the heavier the air was with delicious aromas.
I just watched Rob, committing every detail to my memory. Damn, he was even sexier cooking in front of a large crowd than at home. He had a white apron on embroidered with the name of the restaurant, Dumont’s. Charisma poured off him as he explained the easiest way to prepare a shrimp salad.
“The secret ingredient to every salad tasting more delicious is... parmesan,” he said. I realized he had a small mic clipped to his collar. Everyone laughed. But I was with him on that; even though it was a simple ingredient, parmesan was the best—if only it didn’t have a million calories.
He noticed me, and at once, his smile changed. I couldn’t tell how, but it matched that predatory glance in his gaze, making me squirm as heat coursed through me. Not even the three rows of people between us were enough buffer for his smolder. He whispered to a member of staff standing nearby before starting with the next course.
Two minutes later, one of the servers approached me.
“Ms. Winchester, Rob asked for you to come with me.”
“Oh, thank you. I have a bag I left on my seat.”
“We’ll bring it to you.” He smiled as he prompted me forward. “This way, please.”
“Oh, well, okay, that’s great.”
I was led to a fantastic table on the right side of the kitchen, where I had an amazing view of Rob.
“How is this table even available?” I asked in amazement.
She winked at me. “We always keep two great tables open just in case a notorious critic or a business partner decides to stop by spontaneously. Would you like to eat something?”
“Yes, what do you recommend?”
“We have a tasting menu this week. You can order individual courses or the entire menu, and then you’ll get smaller portions of everything, like small plates.”
“Oh, that sounds perfect. I’ll take the whole thing.”
Indulging in delicious food while watching this delicious man? Yes, please.
When Rob trained his gaze on me, I winked at him. It was a good thing he’d gotten me this swanky table, because this would probably take another few hours. I felt so VIP, especially when the server returned with my Ladurée bag and a bottle of Dom Perignon, pouring me a full glass.
“On the house.”
The menu was absolutely delicious. I wasn’t even sure what some of the items were, but the flavors just blended perfectly in my mouth. I was watching Rob more than what I was eating anyway.
Every time he glanced over, he had a protective look, sultry maybe—I wasn’t sure, but I felt special to him, like I never had with anyone else before.
This was so unlike me, just showing up here without a plan. I usually liked to know everything ten steps in advance. I didn’t consider myself impulsive or spontaneous... but I just liked doing this because it was for Rob.
When one of his other chefs took over the main demonstration, Rob texted me.
Rob: Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?
Skye: Decided just before I came over.
Rob: Stay until the end.
Skye: That’s what I intend.
Rob: It’s gonna take a few more hours, but I’ll make it worth the wait.
Skye: I’m counting on it.
He looked up from his phone, and I could swear his gaze darkened. Even from this distance, I felt there was something feral in it. I averted my gaze after a few seconds, feeling flushed and turned on.
His alpha vibes were potent even from a distance. On second thought... Dom Perignon might have contributed to my susceptibility. The servers had been refilling my glass, so I wasn’t totally sure how much I’d drunk. I took another sip, hoping to cool off from Rob’s attention. It worked... right until I looked up again and Rob trapped my gaze in his once more. It was full of delicious promises. I’d shown up here to surprise him, but I had a suspicion that I was the one about to be surprised tonight.
Chapter Eighteen
Rob
I loved seeing Skye in the crowd.
It hadn’t been part of the plan for me to be a front man tonight, but one of the chefs had a cold, so I stepped in.
After midnight, the crowd thinned... but not enough for me to just throw Skye over my shoulder and get the hell out of here. I had to make do with glimpses of her and quick text messages.
“We have one more dish to walk the crowd through,” my sous-chef said. I nodded, getting back to work. I felt just as comfortable in a suit as in a chef’s uniform. I liked mixing things up. This was a welcome change from numbers, spreadsheets, meetings, setting goals, and bossing everyone into doing their jobs.
Here it was just me, the ingredients, and the kitchen utensils. The simplicity and repetitive nature of it relaxed me. The added task of explaining each step to the audience wasn’t a problem... except that now I couldn’t look at this counter and not imagine all the ways
I could have Skye on it. I’d trail my mouth all over her delicious little body.
Later!
I shook my head, trying to dispel the shockingly clear and vivid image.
Once the last dish was over, the patrons left in droves, as did the critics. As usual, only our business partners stayed until the end, or those who hoped to do business with us.
I knew their game. They hoped to sway me into buying more product by offering larger discounts. If you were good, everyone wanted a piece of you or your success. That was okay with me, because it was when they didn’t come calling that you had to worry.
They were going to leave disappointed. Two things had led to Dumont Foods growing by leaps and bounds since I took over.
One: I was a tough negotiator.
Two: I liked setting goals and was relentless in my pursuit of them.
The second I joined the crowd, a supplier approached me.
“Robert. Good to see you back.”
“Happy to be in New York again.”
“Think we can talk about a discount offer I’ve got for your restaurants over a few drinks?”
“You know my policy. No negotiations happen outside meeting rooms,” I said coolly, leveling him with a stare. Come on, you gave it a shot. Now go.
When he finally left, the place was empty except for Skye and me. The staff had gone—they’d already cleaned while I was preparing the last dish. I crooked a finger at Skye. She shook her head, mirroring my gesture with a sassy smile. I walked right to her table.
“Hello, stranger,” she murmured.
Instead of greeting her, I just captured her mouth, not holding back anything, tugging at her lower lip. I forced my hands to stay firmly on her waist, or I risked cinching her dress up and making a spectacle of us both. I was starved for her, and when the lights switched off, I dug my fingers in her waist, pulling her to the edge of her seat, parting her thighs and stepping between them. I could feel my self-control slip away, so I reluctantly stopped the kiss.
Eyes still closed, Skye hummed low in her throat. She blinked them open, smiling.
“I didn’t know you’d also be cooking.”
“A staff member was sick, so I took over, but I do that sometimes anyway. I like it. On occasion I’ll even go in the restaurants and work side by side with the team. I like feeling the pulse of the restaurant—also helps me gauge if the team is happy, if the customers are satisfied.”
“That’s very smart. I bet it’s relaxing for you too. At least, you looked relaxed from where I was watching.”
“It is.”
I liked that she understood me so well—how I ticked, what was important to me, that she wasn’t looking down on the work in the kitchen the way some of my peers did.
“So... I remember you promising to make it worth the wait,” she said playfully.
“I keep my word, Skye.”
“Before I forget, these are for you.”
She held up a bag from Ladurée.
“Buying from the competition?” I teased.
She blushed. “Oh... I didn’t think about that. Umm... they’re not really competition though.”
“I’m joking, Skye. I like their macarons.”
I liked even more that she’d done this tonight. She’d come here for me.
“Good to know. This place is incredible. I can’t believe I haven’t been here before. And such a smart idea, to have part of the kitchen visible to the public.”
“Want a tour?” I asked.
“Sure.”
“I’ll just get rid of the apron first.”
I took it off, placing it in the pile with the rest of the soiled linens. Underneath I wore my white broadcloth dress shirt and grabbed my suit jacket, which was hanging inside a special cupboard I’d designed. Stuffing my tie in my suit jacket, I took Skye’s hand and led her through the kitchen islands. I pointed out the various workstations the chefs maintained, mentioning their responsibilities and why the counter space was arranged as it was, in straight lines. It all was situated to improve the flow of food in a timely manner so when the dinner was completed, it was warm and ready for its customer.
“As a kid, I came here a lot. I didn’t go home after school, just hung around here.”
“Helping out?”
“When I was old enough, yeah. As a kid, I just liked being in the middle of it all, even though I was mostly a pain in the ass.” We chuckled at my comment.
“So your parents were hands-on like you as well?”
“Yes. Besides, back then, the offices were in this building too, on the upper level. We just keep one here now; the rest are in the new headquarters. We can go upstairs after the tour.”
Skye skimmed one hand along the stone counters, smiling.
“You’re the third generation of Dumonts doing this, right?” she asked.
“Yes. Grandpa started as a chef before opening a restaurant. Worked right until he couldn’t keep up with his sous-chefs. Says arthritis doesn’t belong in the kitchen.”
“Seems like he had a bit of humor,” Skye said, hopping on one of the counters.
“Has. Still very much alive. He’s ninety-three.”
“Holy shit,” she exclaimed. “Those are some awesome genes.”
I chuckled. “He says one teaspoon of butter a day keeps the doctor away.”
“Is he in New York?”
“Nah, he’s originally from France, and he went back there after retiring. My parents are also there.”
“You’re half French?” she asked. “I mean... duh. Your last name is Dumont.”
“A quarter.”
“Do you speak it?”
“A bit.”
“Say something to me.” Her eyes were full of excitement.
“Tu m'as tellement manqué. Means I’ve missed you so much.”
“Your sexiness score just skyrocketed.”
“I didn’t know it needed improvement.”
“Ha! It certainly didn’t. On a scale from one to ten, it used to be on fifteen.”
“And now?”
She frowned, drumming her fingers over her cheek. “Hmm... not sure. Somewhere between twenty and twenty-five.”
I laughed, leaning against the counter. Skye pointed to a leather-bound notebook we’d framed on that wall. “What’s that?”
“A notebook with the original recipes. We still cook some of them, but they’re modified. We want to show homage to our history but keep up with the times.”
“Smart. I bet your family is really proud of you.”
“I think they are. I hope so.”
She studied me for a beat before saying, “That’s very important for you, isn’t it?”
I couldn’t tell how she’d guessed that, but I nodded.
“Yes. It’s not even the money driving me—or not just the money. I want to create something long-lasting... you know, for future generations.”
That thought had popped in my mind unexpectedly. I’d never thought about the future generation except for Lindsay... until now.
“Keep the legacy going on and growing,” she finished.
“Yes, exactly.”
I liked that she wanted to know more about my family, that she was curious and cared. Most of all, I liked that she understood what drove me.
“Want to see the office?” I asked.
“Sure.”
Taking her hand, I led her up a narrow spiral staircase and then opened the door to my office. The windows were red brick arches, as they were downstairs, but that was the only similarity. A leather couch and office chair and a huge mahogany desk took up the entire space. I was rarely here, but it had every comfort I wanted.
“Oh, Rob, I love this place. It’s so... alluring.” She went straight to the desk. “Oh, I like this so much.”
I walked up behind her, pushing her hair to one side, kissing her upper back, drawing my fingers up her arms. I touched my lips to her skin, then my tongue. Goose bumps rose on her arms. I smiled against her back. Her r
eaction to me was just so damn intoxicating.
“Rob...,” she whispered.
I moved my mouth to her shoulder, pushing the strap of her dress to one side before applying the same treatment to her other shoulder. Gripping one of her hips, I pulled her into me, pressing my cock against her ass. She gasped when she felt my hard-on.
“I want you so fucking much,” I said. She reached back, tugging at my pants, as if she wanted to yank them off. I couldn’t wait to oblige her. I kissed up her neck to her ear. “Je pense toujours à toi.”
“What does it mean?”
“I always think about you.”
“I’m all yours tonight.” Her tone was sassy, but I wanted to make one thing clear. Turning her around, I looked straight into her eyes.
“Skye, you and me... we’re exclusive.”
Her eyes widened. I needed to know that she was in agreement.
“I’m not sharing you. Not your body or any part of you.”
Her eyes flashed. I drew my thumb over her lower lip, pressing at one corner before capturing her mouth. She kissed me back hard.
I spoke against her lips.
“Just you and me, understood?” My words were almost a growl, but she nodded. “I’ll fuck you right here on this desk, Skye. Every time I’m here, I’ll think about you naked on it, begging for my cock.”
Skye let out a sound between a whimper and a moan. She wanted this just as much as I did. I lifted her ass on the desk so we were at the same level before kissing her hard and deep again.
She was working my belt, undoing the zipper of my pants. I liked that she took what she wanted.
I stepped back, looking her up and down. I wanted to explore her inch by inch... I just had to decide where to start.
She pouted, making a come-here motion with her finger. My sassy spitfire.
“Patience,” I murmured.
She pouted even more. I hitched her dress up her thighs, then past her ass.
I skimmed two fingers between her legs, drawing them along the hem of her panties. She squirmed at my touch, holding her breath. I teased her, moving my fingers to touch the elastic seam under her belly before dipping inside her panties. Skye kissed my jaw down to my Adam’s apple.
