Exquisite

by Ella Frank

  “Well, Doctor. I have to say that was quite a prize you gave me.” He paused and then added with a sexy smirk, “And yourself.”

  Lena looked up at him and licked her bottom lip, suddenly feeling very naked and extremely exposed. “I’m glad you liked it,” she muttered and sucked in a deep breath when he leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I fucking loved it,” and then he brushed a kiss to her temple and strolled out of the bathroom.

  Lena watched him slowly close the door and silently thanked him for giving her a minute to collect herself. Picking up the soap, she did a quick once-over and hopped out of the tub, tugging the plug out to let the water drain. Spotting a huge robe on the back of the door, she dried herself and put it on. There wasn’t much she could do with her hair, so once she wrapped the towel around it she opened the bathroom door and walked out. She didn’t find him in his bedroom but instead heard movement in the kitchen. Making her way out there, she saw him at the stove with a fry pan. He was cooking for her; she smiled and made her way over to the breakfast bar that had two stools under it facing the kitchen area. Sitting down on one, she watched as he turned around and smiled. He’d changed into loose grey track pants and a white T-shirt. His hair was still damp and he’d obviously just left it after pushing it back with his fingers. The total package was amazing.

  “An omelet?” he asked, maneuvering the fry pan so the egg could flip.

  “That’d be great.” She paused and then continued, pointing to her head, “I hope you don’t mind I borrowed your robe and towel.”

  “I don’t mind and you look adorable.” He turned back to the stove and Lena could feel a frown on her face.

  “Adorable? Like a baby or say a kitten?”

  He reached up to a cabinet to his left, grabbed a plate, and plated the omelet. He turned back to her and pushed it over with a smirk on his face.

  “Sure. Or adorable like a woman who just had a very satisfying orgasm, either way.”

  Sputtering a little she accused, “You did, too.”

  He cracked an egg into the silver bowl and looked at her with a pout. “And am I not adorable?”

  Lena snorted in a very un-ladylike fashion and shook her head. “You’re an idiot.”

  He whisked the mixture and then poured it into the fry pan, adding some chopped tomato and ham to it as it cooked. “Thank you, but you didn’t answer me. Am I not adorable?”

  This time he fluttered his lashes and it looked so ridiculous on such a big masculine man, she couldn’t help but laugh at him.

  “Oh, Langley. I can think of many adjectives to describe you but I’m sad to say adorable is not one of them.”

  He flipped the omelet over and then leaned against the stove. “Oh, yeah? Give me one of them.”

  “I’m not feeding your ego.”

  He raised his eyebrow and his voice dropped low. “Trust me. You fed it earlier by screaming out my name when I didn’t even touch you.”

  Lena’s mouth fell open and she shook her head. “A gentleman would never mention something like that.”

  He reached up, grabbed a second plate, plated his omelet, and then walked around to sit beside her, passing her a fork. He grinned and those mischievous dimples appeared.

  “Good thing I never claimed to be a gentleman, then.” He nudged her shoulder and said softly, “Eat, Lena O’Donnell, you hot, sexy woman.”

  Lena smiled and ate every last bite.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Monday morning rolled around and Lena found that she was in an exceptionally good mood knowing it had nothing to do with work, and for the first time she could recall, everything to do with her personal life. She was finally seeing someone. It was hard to believe that it was one of Chicago’s most eligible bachelors and honestly she still was waiting for him to call her and say oh hey sorry but one of the models I dated last month is in town and I won’t be able to see you tonight. However, so far he’d not done that and he continued surprising her. After their meal on Saturday, they’d sat down and watched an old black and white movie and then he’d told her he needed to go into work for a few hours. He’d dropped her at home, had given her the sweetest kiss she could imagine, and then left. She figured she wouldn’t hear from him until she was forced to call to give him back his robe, but he’d surprised her by calling Sunday morning to see how she was and what she was doing.

  Lena just couldn’t get over the fact that she was supposedly dating Mason Langley. She was number thirty-four. Smiling a little to herself over that, she sat down at her desk and turned her computer on. She was just about to reach over and call Shelly when she walked through the door.

  “You look happy,” she accused and then looked around and behind her. When she was satisfied they were alone she demanded, “All right, what happened, and you need to tell me everything from the moment he dragged your drunk ass up those stairs.”

  Lena grinned, sat back in her chair, and proceeded to tell Shelly every last scintillating detail— well, those she could remember, considering Friday was still a bit of a blur, and thought that for the first time in her life she was going to try to allow herself to enjoy the moment. She would deal with the guilt later tonight when she stopped by the flower shop.

  On the other side of town, Mason was not enjoying anything. Wendy had stormed into the staff meeting and sat down at one of the back tables. As Mason went through the slight staffing changes and menu additions, he noticed that she was glaring at him in a way that reminded him of Lena. She looked as though she wanted to strangle him. Rachel was sitting at one of the front tables—texting Charlie, he was sure—and once he was done, everyone got up, took the new menu and made their way to the kitchen. They would stay for another hour making sure everything was ready for tomorrow when they opened, and then they’d head home. As the last of the staff trickled out to the kitchen, Mason lifted a hand and motioned for Wendy to come forward.

  “What’s wrong with you this morning?”

  “What’s wrong with me?” she asked incredulously as she dug into her bag and pulled out a magazine. He recognized it as Elegant Dining and winced, wondering what’d been written for Wendy to be so pissed off.

  “Have we or have we not been working our collective asses off for three years trying to establish this restaurant as number one in Chicago?”

  Rachel was looking from Wendy to Mason and then back to Wendy with a confused expression on her face. Then she nodded.

  Mason nodded slowly as well. “Yes, that has been our number one goal for the restaurant.”

  Wendy let out a deep breath and then tossed the magazine on the table in front of him. “Then perhaps you can explain to me what on earth happened on Friday night?” She paused as he reached out to pick the magazine up slowly. “Because as far as I understood it, our boss, the owner of this restaurant, had told everybody not to screw up. It was vital to stay sharp and be professional!” she ended loudly.

  As Mason flipped through the pages Rachel spoke up, seemingly confused. “Did I miss something? Because I feel like I certainly missed something vital here.”

  Wendy snapped her head around to face Rachel. “What you missed was Mason’s new whatever he calls her go apeshit when an old girlfriend turned up and then lover boy over here ditched the most important interview of his life to chase some tail.”

  Spinning back to Mason, who was now staring at Wendy with a pissed off expression of his own, she asked, “Isn’t that right? And you’re looking for page 23.” Wendy pointed at the magazine.

  Gritting his teeth, Mason found the page and in large bold letters, he read:

  EXQUISITE. A TALENTED CHEF’S DREAM OR A PLAYBOY’S PLAYGROUND?

  by Peter Ryder

  Oh, shit. Wendy was right, what had he been thinking? This was not what he’d wanted his restaurant to be known for. He lifted a hand and rubbed his eyes. Then he tried to swallow around the lump in his throat as he looked at Rachel’s inquiring gaze and Wendy’s accusatory one.

  Wendy shook her
head and then said in a tone that could only be called icy, “Well, go ahead. Read it out loud for us all to hear.”

  “Come on, Wendy, that’s enough.” Rachel muttered.

  “No, he needs to know he just screwed us all.”

  “I’m aware of that Wendy. Shit, do you really think I wanted that to happen the way it did? Were you not right there watching the whole thing turn to shit?” he asked through a clenched jaw. “I’ll read this and I’ll admit to my mistakes but let me say this once and make it very clear. Do not refer to Lena as a “piece of tail” ever again.”

  That seemed to register through Wendy’s anger and he saw Rachel bite her lip as if she were a nervous child watching her parents fight.

  “Go ahead, Mase. Read it and get the damage over with.” Rachel spoke softly.

  Taking a deep breath, he cleared his throat and read:

  It’s Friday night and the bustling crowd of people are more than happy to wait in the crowded lobby of the trendy new restaurant Exquisite. People don’t even seem to mind standing out in the cool air if it means getting the opportunity to come inside and dine on what has been named some of the finest cuisine to come out of windy Chicago. Upon stepping inside this hidden gem, you hear the soft sounds of old school jazz and feel a warmth that settles all the way down to the pit of your stomach. The atmosphere is electric and the music is soothing as the waitstaff bustles from table to table.

  “Well, that doesn’t seem bad at all,” Rachel chimed in, with a hopeful tone in her voice. “Keep reading,” Wendy stated bluntly.

  The decision to choose the lobster tail with the creamy butter sauce wasn’t a difficult one. Once I was seated and waiting on my meal, I enjoyed the sounds of the greats, like Sinatra & Dean, while I sipped a fantastic cocktail from the bar. I’m delighted to tell you that when the lobster arrived it practically melted in my mouth. I chose a side of home-style mashed potatoes that I’d been told were beyond compare and I’m thrilled to report that deduction was correct. Mixed through the fluffy white spuds were chives, garlic and a dash of paprika. This complemented the lobster and truly made for a mouthwatering experience.

  “See, they said your food was amazing, Mase, that’s great.” Rachel tried again with a hint of desperation.

  “Keep reading,” Wendy told Mason in a frosty tone.

  It wasn’t until after my main course when things began to get extra delicious. We’ve all heard the whispers of the hometown golden boy who worked his way through college and went on to study fine culinary cuisine abroad. However, it seems like the young Mason Langley may have picked up a thing or two in the ‘love them and leave them’ department from the French and the Italians. It seems that our highly respected entrepreneur is somewhat of a Casanova. It makes one start to wonder if his restaurant is a success due to fine cuisine or a pretty face with a playboy image. After all, when a ravishing redhead and a buxom brunette are fighting over being #34, there must be more to this Head Chef than meets the eye. So in the end I give the dining experience 4 stars out of 5 but ladies, I have a feeling you’ll be giving it a 5 for the ‘Exquisite’ experience, pardon the pun, and personal attention you’ll receive in Mason Langley’s high-class restaurant.

  Mason stopped reading and continued to stare at the article in front of him. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at what he knew would be disappointment on the faces of the two women in front of him. Hell, he couldn’t even stand himself right this minute. He was so upset he could feel his hands tremble as they held the magazine tightly. How could he have been so utterly stupid? How could he have let himself get so caught up in the moment that he’d let all of their hard work go straight down the toilet because Lena O’Donnell had thrown one of her many temper tantrums? Closing his eyes, he squeezed them tightly, thinking back to that night. How she’d cut him off at the knees in front of everyone, with little thought to what damage she may have or may not have been causing him and his own.

  Sure, since then he’d hung out with her, laughed with her, come with her, but right now he couldn’t even stand the thought of her. This was a huge mess and he really thought Peter fucking Ryder had overlooked the whole incident when he’d called him and given that verbal interview. Stupid, he thought, shaking his head then looking up at his girls. Yeah, they were his girls, his family. They’d been with him from the beginning of this whole endeavor and right now, they were both looking at him as if they wanted to punch him.

  “I don’t know what to say.” He paused and put the magazine down, rubbing a palm over his face. “I’m so incredibly sorry. What I did was inexcusable. I can see the ramifications of my actions and I’m horrified with myself. He called into question all the positive points of the article by wrapping it up with a negative.”

  Rachel stood and walked around the table to stop beside him. He hung his head down and thought she might smack him one right in the back of it.

  “Mason?” she questioned softly. He raised his head to meet her eyes. “You better be crazy about this doctor, or I’ll kill you for this.”

  He winced. “I’m so angry at her and myself right now I don’t even want to think about her. I don’t know, Rach. She brings out this side to me that makes me go all crazy.”

  Quietly, he heard Wendy say, “What did your dad used to say when he’d come in here?”

  Mason looked up as she walked around and reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder. She squeezed it gently, seemingly back to not wanting him dead.

  Mason chuckled softly. “I don’t know. He said a lot of things to me, some nice and wise and some not so nice, but still wise.”

  Wendy nodded. “I’m referring to when he’d see you with the latest girl. He’d always shake his head and say to us that boy is too careless, goes from one girl to the next as if they’re disposable. Mark my words, when the right one comes along he’ll change, he won’t be nearly as cavalier. That’s when he’ll finally be a man. I guess he was right huh?”

  Mason reached up and squeezed the hand that was resting on his shoulder. “I don’t know about that, Wendy, but I sure don’t feel like I usually do when I’m with her.”

  Wendy tilted her head to the side and lifted her lips in a small smile. “In that case, I’ll forgive you for acting like a jackass, but don’t think your new nickname around here isn’t going to be Casanova, lover boy.”

  Mason winced at that and then felt his shoulders relax as she leaned over and kissed his cheek.

  “Don’t worry. Even if the women flock to the restaurant in droves to meet you, they’re still paying customers.”

  Rachel grinned at him. “Yeah, and we all know women are suckers for cocktails from hot men and pastries to drown their sorrows.”

  He felt himself laugh a little at that. “That’s a horrible assessment of a woman.”

  Rachel rolled her eyes and stood. “Oh please. I speak the truth. I’ve been there before and trust me, I’ve tasted the bottom of a tequila bottle and eaten a tub of ice cream on my own. We women know how to feel sorry for ourselves.”

  Mason nodded and was about to stand to go back to his office.

  “Actually, speaking of reasons to drink and feel sorry for ourselves, this article was pre-tt-y bad. Sure you don’t want a bottle of tequila?” Rachel asked him with a sympathetic smirk.

  He stood up, hugged his sister, and smiled a little at Wendy. “Nah. I’m good as long as you two still love me.”

  Wendy grinned, and Mason smiled as both women moved in to hug him. He heard Wendy whisper against his ear. “What woman could resist Casanova?”

  They all cracked up and Mason looked at them. “That’s never going away now, is it?”

  They both grinned at him and shook their heads. “Nope.”

  All was right again—well, in this part of his life anyway.

  Wednesday rolled around and Lena was surprised to find she was disappointed she hadn’t heard from Mason. She didn’t really know what to expect but had figured after their day on Saturday and his phone ca
ll Sunday, he would’ve tried to contact her either Monday or Tuesday. While trying not to think about it, she was also trying equally hard not to care, and she was failing miserably on both counts. She’d vacillated between “he was busy with work” to “he was busy with family” to finally “he’d got what he wanted and never wanted to see her again.” Really, what it came down to, though, was she was obsessing over a man. Something she’d never done in her whole life. Add to that he just happened to be one of the most sought-after men in their city and she just felt like a complete loser groupie instead of the professional doctor that she was.

  Somehow, this man had worked his way past her defenses and deep inside to a place she usually kept under lock and key. In fact, she’d let him in where no man had ever been—her heart. She wasn’t sure to what extent, but she knew she was starting to feel something for him and that scared the shit out of her. She loved the way he never backed down when she was in a raging mood or how he’d cook for her and snap back with comments so witty it made her grin. He had the ability to make her want to smack him and yet laugh the whole time, and the one thing that really sucked her in was his ability to walk away when she needed him to but not stay away too long. Up until now, that is. He’d stayed away too long and it was starting to drive her insane. Was she seriously thinking of calling him? Walking down to the main cafeteria to get breakfast she saw the television in one of the waiting rooms flash up with a news story. Next to the local morning show reporter’s head appeared a picture of the gorgeous Mr. Langley. He was wearing a crisp blue button-up shirt that was open at the neck. His hair was pushed back carelessly as though he’d run his fingers through it and he was smiling at whoever had taken the photograph. It was an amazing photo. Under it was a caption that read Entrepreneurial Chef or Professional Playboy? Lena’s eyes widened and she found herself walking into the waiting room to stand in front of the television. There were two other women sitting in the room and she heard one of them say, “Oh, playboy for sure. But look at those eyes, so handsome. Why wouldn’t he be?”