Magic of Three

by Jenna Castille

  She’d left her baby in the parking lot of the strip club. After her all-too-memorable lap dance from the fallen angel, she’d gotten into a shots competition with Janice. Lisa managed to drink enough citrus fruit-laced vodka to kill a hefty Russian, leaving Janice owing her a cool forty bucks. The rest of the evening blurred into a haze of alcohol, secondhand smoke and bare skin. Her friends poured her into a cab with orders not to even think about her car until she could keep a substantial amount of food in her stomach the next morning.

  Even plastered, it never occurred to her that leaving her car overnight would be a problem, not parked so close to the well-lit valet area. At least, not until the cab dropped her off that morning. A police car, blue lights flashing, sat parked out front. She’d thought she might be about to witness a raid. She found out differently when she reached her poor baby.

  The word “pervert” had been scratched across the hood, the rough line carved deep in her paint. Other invectives graced the doors and trunk, half of which were misspelled. Over three-fourths of the cars in the parking lot had been vandalized, with red-faced, irate owners milling around them. She’d had to stay and make a report before the police allowed her to leave, teary-eyed, with her pitiful ride.

  So here she was, two hours late to work, driving an insult-covered car. Assholes ruled the world.

  There were days she hated this fucking town.

  Lisa stomped into her already opened restaurant, the scent of exotic spices and mouthwatering meats flowing over her. Soft classical music ebbed and flowed around her. The chatty Saturday lunch crowd filled every table, a large swarm already waiting in the lobby and filling every chair at the bar.

  Damn, I hate being late, letting someone else do the prep work and open the doors without at least having a chance to check everything myself. Makes me feel redundant.

  Culinary Magic, or CM, was her other baby. She’d served her time working as a slave—er, chef—in other people’s restaurants for years. After her divorce she worked double shifts, triple when possible, scrimped and saved until she had enough for a down payment, needing the independence of her own place, a feeling of control after her divorce put her life emotionally adrift. Then she poured every single penny she earned back into her restaurant until all debts were paid. She spent every extra moment for five solid years working to make certain she made a profit. Only within the last six months had CM become self-sufficient enough for her feel like she could take a step back and trust her manager. Finally she could leave him alone and take some time off.

  But it still made her bones itch to let someone else have that kind of power over her CM. She missed the hands-on command, those lean, mean years, so the days she did work felt all the more precious. Wasting no time, Lisa dropped her purse in her spartan, if paper-cluttered, office and went straight back out front.

  While Saturday was always one of their busiest days, her hostess Renee looked positively harried. Her perfectly coiffed auburn hair was mussed, sticking out at strange angles, and her black bowtie sat slightly askew.

  “How’s everything?” Lisa asked, glancing at the marker-covered seating chart.

  Renee rolled her eyes, puffing an escaped curl out of her way. “It’s been a madhouse,” she grumbled before handing menus to a waiter taking a young couple to their table. “Trina didn’t show at all and both Ryan and Kate called in sick. We’re short-handed everywhere. We’re up to an hour-plus wait and people are still piling in.”

  Lisa winced. More good news. Looked like she’d be hiring another waiter. Not that it would be hard to replace Trina. She’d been a ditz, if a cute ditz who made good tips. Still, this was the last flake-out Lisa would put up with. “Any customer complaints?”

  Renee waited to reply, tapping her pen against the podium in a manic rhythm, until another set of customers stepped out of earshot. “Simon’s having trouble. He’s been picking up the slack Trina left. He got stuck with a high roller from one of the conventions in town, a real sleaze if you ask me. The guy hasn’t been happy from the moment he walked in and found out he had to wait like all the other peons. Glared at me the entire time he sat at the bar. First thing out of his mouth was a demand for free drinks.”

  “Did you give him any?”

  “I told him the first round was on the house. I know it’s not policy but he reeked of trouble. Figured I’d take it out of my pay if I had to. Didn’t want to deal with him on top of everything else.”

  Lisa eyed her hostess. She’d never seen the stoic young woman look so flustered, not even in the depths of finals week at her university. “Don’t worry about it, Renee. The house will cover it. Sounds like you made the right call. I’ll see what I can do to help Simon.”

  Renee nodded, straightening her tie and turning back to her post.

  Lisa walked to Simon’s station, smiling and making small talk with other customers as she passed through. Normally just walking the floor calmed her nerves. She’d planned out every gleaming inch of the space. The plantation shutters, the bright ocean-view mural covering one wall. The meandering tables and private romantic nooks down to the fresh flowers on each table were personally chosen. She garnered a great sense of pride from the smooth, friendly atmosphere she achieved. Approaching the center of the main dining area, she didn’t have to ask which patron Renee meant.

  The large, ruddy man created a black hole of anger around him, sucking all the pleasure and enjoyment out of the tables nearby.

  Simon bent above him, obviously trying to placate the man. As she walked closer she began hearing his loud, belligerent rant.

  “What kind of an establishment is this?” the man blustered, looking at other tables around him for support, uncaring that the other people avoided making eye contact. “I’ve had better service at a drive-thru window. First I’m forced to wait for forty-five minutes to be allowed to sit. Then it takes forever for anyone to acknowledge my presence. Now you tell me that you’re out of the wine I ordered? A very expensive, exclusive wine too, I might add. I demand to speak with the manager immediately. This whole situation is utterly ridiculous.”

  Lisa stood straighter and flipped on her most pleasant, benign face. “Would the owner be sufficient?” she asked, waving a relieved Simon out of the line of fire.

  The patron’s beady little black eyes narrowed. He managed to look up at Lisa while still looking down his sharp beak nose. “You’re the owner of this half-rate establishment?”

  “Yes,” she answered, steady wide smile firmly in place. Cool demeanor. Keep a cool demeanor. You can be pissed as hell, but ya gotta stay calm and cool. Dealt with enough jerks over the years to know that. He’s not worth the effort or energy for trading insults with, not this puny, puffed-up little weasel. Keep calm and defuse.

  “You need to fire some people,” he blustered, not backing down an inch in the face of Lisa’s calm, professional façade. “If I owned a place as poorly run as this I’d be ashamed to show my face in public. How you achieved your reputation as a fine eating establishment I’ll never know.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, sir,” Lisa said, still smiling though her teeth and cheeks ached. She forced down the rolling waves of anger, stuffing it in a little mental box and slamming it shut before offering the slimy little worm her first bone. “Is there anything specific we could do to make up for your inconvenience and displeasure?”

  A crafty gleam glittered in the man’s eyes. Lisa tried not to snort or roll her own eyes. Now we get to the truth of the matter. Penny-pinching ass doesn’t want to pay for his meal. Probably came in here planning to be unhappy and milking it for all it was worth.

  “I don’t believe I should be forced to pay for a meal when the service was so substandard,” he said, flicking a breadcrumb away from his plate.

  I just bet you don’t.

  “I’m sorry but I can’t sit by and watch this any longer,” a deep, authoritative voice spoke behind her.

  Lisa’s heart gave a little leap and she struggled not to g
asp. She hadn’t heard anyone coming up behind her, hadn’t sensed any foreboding or supportive presence. She glanced over her shoulder, ready to thank the man but shut him down. All she needed was to escalate the situation into a full-out confrontation. But the moment she made eye contact every feminine nerve she had went on red alert, her blood coursing with healthy attraction. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed him as she walked through the room.

  The man stood over six feet tall, pure masculine muscle in a designer suit which fit him perfectly. His jet black hair was clipped short on the sides but long and silky on top. Just looking at it made her palms itch to slide through it. His dark, piercing eyes stared impassively down at the other man and his lips formed a harsh line, one that begged to be chewed into submission.

  Whoa, down, girl. Remember where you are.

  The disgruntled patron glared at the intruder, daring him to speak. “I don’t believe this has anything to do with you.”

  The dark stranger shrugged, angular face remaining expressionless. “Maybe not, but I’ve been forced to listen to you gripe for the last half-hour nonstop. You invited every person here to be involved with your tirade.” Without glancing at Lisa, his attentions stayed focused on the other man. If not for the fact that her reaction was completely inappropriate, she’d say that fact made her feel jealous. Still he continued speaking to the other man. “These people have done everything they could to accommodate your requests, outrageous or otherwise. You’ve done nothing but make life miserable for them and everyone else sitting close enough to hear your incessant whining. If anything, you owe us an apology.”

  At the man’s words the irate patron puffed up, stammering, and started to stand. Lisa stepped forward, intent on stopping things before the bashing, shoving and hitting started. She could stop this pompous little man. But if a physical fight started, no way would she be able to restrain her dark supporter. When it came to blows he had the look of a man who would strike first and strike hard and put his opponent down. She didn’t need any lawsuits or more property damage to top off her wonderful wreckage-filled day.

  Before she could act another man stepped forward and placed a soothing, if firm, hand on the red-faced patron’s shoulder.

  The hairs on Lisa’s arms stood on end. She felt—something. Something calming focused around this new man and pouring outward. Suddenly the patron’s tight, angry expression melted and calmed, turning peaceful. He dropped back down into his chair without a word, sipping on his mineral water and reaching for another baguette.

  Lisa stared in amazement as the belligerent customer abandoned his complaints and started eating. Un-fucking-believable. She smiled up at the third man but her smile quickly faded. Her skin chilled then blazed as blood retreated then surged into her cheeks.

  That golden halo of hair. That sin-filled smile. That hard, lithe body barely disguised by the well-made suit. Hormones pumped through her already charged body, her nipples peaking and her panties dampening. The mouthwatering pussy-drenching stripper from the night before grinned down at her, merriment and knowledge dancing in his eyes as they roved her conservative gray suit pants and white button-down blouse. Images of his nearly nude body writhing against her own echoed through her mind. Her mouth went from watering to sandy-desert dry.

  Maybe he doesn’t recognize me. Please don’t let him recognize me.

  A devilish smile curved his pouty lips and he inclined his head with a conspiratorial wink. No such luck. Maybe a hole would open up and she could leap for it.

  Best jump in and get things over with. Hopefully he’ll keep the meeting professional as well. I mean, this can’t be comfortable for him either.

  “Thank you, gentlemen, for your assistance. I think I have everything under control now.” She smiled and gestured to their empty table.

  “I believe we’re being dismissed, Julian,” her blond tormentor said, eyes dancing.

  Okay, playful she could handle. Playful hunk was a joy to handle compared to bitchy fat man. She gave a pointed glance at the two plates of barely touched food and half-filled wineglasses. “No, I’m simply implying that you might want to continue with your own meals.”

  Tall, dark and handsome chuckled behind her, the rough sound rubbing and soothing her frazzled nerves. “You’re right, Tim. We’re definitely being dismissed. At least she does it pleasantly. Very nice manners.”

  Her skin heated more under the men’s amused stares. Her face felt so hot she wondered if spontaneous combustion wasn’t just an urban legend. Still, she did appreciate their help. She couldn’t be rude, especially considering they were paying customers. She didn’t know how they’d done it but they had diffused the situation without yelling, bribery or violence. Somehow they’d calmed the other man down in a way she couldn’t.

  She turned and ushered them to their empty seats. The two men shared a steamy look before following. Lisa gave a mental shake. So much for ogling. It looked like they were more interested in each other.

  Oh, well. It always was the cute ones.

  “Let me offer you a dessert of your choice, with my compliments. It’s the least I can do.”

  The dark-haired man, Julian, ran his eyes over her body. Her skin tightened under the close inspection. His face filled with desire as he met her gaze. “Thank you. I would love savoring your…dessert.”

  This time Lisa knew she was blushing. Her read of the men could be completely off base, or they were bisexual. Either way she didn’t understand her own reactions to the men. It wasn’t as if this was the first time a customer hit on her. That was a freaking occupational hazard for anyone working service industry in this city. She never had trouble compartmentalizing her personal and business personas before. But with these two men she was acting like a blushing virgin on her wedding night, not a cool-headed divorcée who enjoyed all the pleasure sex had to offer on her own commitment-free terms. Scratch an itch and move on. Be friendly but nothing more. Absolutely no warm gushy feelings.

  She met Julian’s lascivious smile with a cool, professional one of her own. “I’m certain you’d love our fruit and berry torte. It’s sweet but has a bit of a bite to it.”

  “Just the way I like it,” Julian replied with a smirk, rising to her innuendo.

  Then her golden stripper, Tim, confounded her. “Don’t I know it,” he muttered under his breath. He gave her a knowing look and a wink, almost conspiring, as though he was sharing a dark secret.

  Okay, maybe I was right to begin with. That definitely sounded like a comment made by a lover. Talk about mixed signals. Enough flirting. This is getting a little weird. Strategic retreat.

  “I’ll tell your server. Whenever you’re ready let him know what you’d like.”

  “I’d rather you took care of us,” Julian whispered low and seductively as he reached out and took her hand.

  She stared down at their joined palms, shocked at how such a simple touch spun her senses. Her fingers tingled and a fine shiver played beneath her skin. His rough thumb glided across the sensitive flesh of her wrist. She cleared her throat, trying to pretend to be unaffected. “I don’t think that would be wise,” she heard herself respond as if from a distance. “I think you have enough people caring for you as it is.”

  She gave Tim a pointed look. He batted his unfairly long and thick eyelashes in response, miming a quick kiss. Lisa didn’t know how to react. She settled on a light chuckle.

  “A man can never have too many caring people in his life,” Julian answered, bringing her attention back to him.

  Whoa, definitely retreat time.

  Lisa pulled her hand out of his grip and put some distance between them. Flirting at work was one thing. She was the boss and could trust herself not to cross any lines. But Julian’s eyes glowed with some emotion beyond a simple flirtation between strangers. She could see the arousal, the enticing heat. If given half a chance, this man wouldn’t have any qualms with throwing her down on the floor and fucking her raw, to hell with anyone else in the
room.

  The thought of inspiring that kind of voracity in any man filled her with a true sense of feminine power.

  Damn, if it wasn’t for her own personal code of honor she’d take him up on it. She wasn’t above a good, long, hard, slamming screw. It kept life interesting. But not here. Never here. CM was her child and you didn’t fuck strangers in front of children. Not to mention what her employees would think. Had to be hell on morale.

  She wiped her hand against her slacks, trying to erase the warmth of his hand’s caress. She felt marked somehow, surrounded by an undeniable magnetism emanating from his touch and Tim’s glance and grin. “Thank you again. It is nice to know that manners and chivalry aren’t entirely dead.”

  For a moment she thought Julian or Tim would put up a fuss, starting a whole new scene. But they looked at each other, unspoken words passing between the two. Julian turned back, the fire in his eyes banked. “It was a pleasure meeting you as well. Had I known the owner of this fine establishment was so charming I would have come here much sooner.”