"Will you have time this week to meet with our web designer?" She doesn't miss a beat as she draws a straight line through some text on a piece of paper in front of her. "We purchased a domain for you and we'll be building your web presence."
"A domain?"
"Cadence Sutton dot com," she answers with a grin. "We jumped the gun on that but I was hoping you'd agree to take the job."
I rub my hands over my face. When I came here today I expected a few details about how we'd move forward. I didn't know that Barbara was already nearing the finish line before I even set foot on the track.
"That all sounds good," I say quietly. "Can you text me a schedule of where I need to be and when? That'll make it easier."
"You bet." She holds her phone in the air. "We're going to be in constant contact so I need you to have your phone with you at all times."
Seeing as how it's practically attached to my hip, that's not a problem.
"I'm excited for this." I skim the palm of my hand over the contract. "I'm actually going to be a regular on Rise and Shine."
"You're going to be much more than that, Chef." She stands and extends her hand. "You're going to be a star. Six months from now, you'll be the sweetheart of the culinary world."
CHAPTER 8
"The sweetheart of the culinary world?" Sophia pulls a piece of caramelized onion from the bun she's holding and pops it into her mouth. "Maybe we should just buy a food truck and sell these sandwiches. We'd make a mint."
If I ever need a boost to my ego, my best friend is the person I'll go to. I hurriedly tossed together two sandwiches when I got back to the apartment after seeing Barbara. I almost bailed on lunch, but Soph is the one person, besides my mom, who can put things into perspective when I need it.
"You think there's that big of a demand for ciabatta buns packed full of grilled portabella mushrooms, caramelized onions and Swiss cheese?"
"Is that what this is?" She skims her index finger over the corner of her mouth to collect the garlic aioli that's settled there.
I take another bite of my own sandwich before I wash it down with a mouthful of raspberry lemonade. "We should be at the park. It's beautiful outside today."
She swings her elbow toward the phone sitting atop her pristine desk. "I'm waiting for a call. I can't leave this spot."
I steady my gaze on her face. The joy that's always dancing in her eyes when she's at home working tirelessly behind her sewing machine is missing. Here, she's responsible for keeping Gabriel Foster's office in order. She's an assistant to one of the leaders in the fashion industry, yet the man has no idea that an incredibly talented designer is wasting her life answering his phone.
"Is Mr. Foster here?" I look at the closed door of his office.
"He's in there with the wife." She tilts her head to the left and winks. "He gave me strict instructions not to disturb him."
"Why not?"
Her eyebrows wiggle as she purses her lips. "I think it's called a nooner, Den. It's that or afternoon delight."
"They're doing it in there right now?" I place the rest of my sandwich on one of the paper napkins I brought with me, my appetite suddenly taking flight.
Her mouth twitches as she tries to stop a smile. "It happens a lot. I hope when I get married one day that my husband is as hot for me as Gabriel is for Isla."
***
I peer into the windows of new Nova. I decided to stop here after leaving Sophia's office. We chatted briefly about my new job before the call she was waiting on came through. While she talked about suppliers and the size of an order of shirts, I gathered up the trash, threw it away and shoved the two reusable plastic cups into my bag. I left her with a kiss on her forehead before I started the walk here.
"Do you work today?"
The voice is girlish and high. I'd know it anywhere.
"Maribel," I say as I look to my right to where she's standing, dressed in a pair of jeans and a black tank top emblazoned with Nova's logo above her breast. There was some chatter weeks ago about having shirts designed for the staff to wear when they were off duty. Obviously someone took that idea and ran with it. "How are you?"
"Good." She tucks the cigarette package in her hand into the back pocket of her jeans. "I'm waiting on a delivery. My signature actually counts now."
It's one of the perks of being a senior chef or maybe it's one of the drawbacks. Signing for an order means you approve it. I know that from my time at Axel when Brendon accepted an order of seafood without checking it out. The product was spoiled and Hunter wasn't happy. Brendon pouted about it for days after; telling me it was the fault of the front of the house manager because she'd distracted him with a discussion about the menu for a wedding party that had booked the private room.
It was typical Brendon behavior to blame someone else for his fuck up.
"Is Tyler around?" I look back into the restaurant. It's transformed in just the past few days. Dark wooden tables are now in place, each positioned on an angle to the next. It's not only aesthetically pleasing but it's practical. The servers can maneuver around the guests in a uniform way and more diners can be seated during service.
"He's in the middle of a call," she says brightly. "He asked me to take care of things while he's doing that. We're busy little bees today. Is there anything I can do for you?"
The question makes me uneasy. It shouldn't. She's likely just trying to be helpful but it reminds me that if I was still a Nova employee that she ranks higher than I do. "I need to talk to Tyler. I'll catch him later."
"You've already caught him." He steps through the open doorway toward me. "I'm all yours, Cadence. Everything else can wait."
CHAPTER 9
"This is a step up from your other office." I glance around the spacious room. It's at least three times the size of the office that was at the back of the old restaurant. The walls in this space are painted light blue and the desk is modern, crafted from what looks like reclaimed wood.
"I liked that office." He scratches the top of his head. "I fucked you raw in there."
A shiver runs through me. "Jesus, Tyler. Don't. People will hear you."
"That's exactly what you said when I was fucking you there." A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "I think about that day constantly."
I think about it too. It was spontaneous, the moments leading up to it intense. We'd clawed at each other's clothing with desperation. I'd almost come as soon as he plunged his cock into me. I'd never been taken that completely or brazenly before. I ached when it was over and I still do now when I think about it.
"I don't want to talk about sex." I glance at the door frame. "There's no door for us to close."
"What if there was?" He steps closer. "Would you let me kiss you to thank you for the gift you gave me earlier?"
My eyes fall to his lips, to those beautiful soft lips that have brought me pleasure. They're the same lips that shot out those horrible words last night. His mouth is my ally and my adversary.
"We're not going to kiss." I look over his shoulder at a single piece of paper attached to the wall with a green headed pin. "What's that?"
He doesn't turn his head, his eyes stay trained on my face. "My niece drew me a picture of the new restaurant. I'm going to have it framed so I can hang it next to the gift you gave me."
"You're going to hang the picture collage in here?" My gaze catches on the frame that I gave him. It's leaning against a row of metal filing cabinets.
"I'm taking that home. It belongs at my place."
"Not here?"
Confusion knits his brow. "It's too personal of a gift to keep here. I don't want anyone to touch it. You gave it to me, not to the restaurant."
I smile at the distinction. "I did give it to you."
"I want something else for my birthday." His voice lowers.
"Don't be greedy," I counter. "I'm not even sure you deserve the gift I gave to you."
"I don't." He studies my face, his eyes narrowing. "That's why I want anot
her gift."
"You just said you were taking that gift home." I scowl. "Now you're saying you want to exchange it for something else? That's not how my gifts work, Tyler. "
"I'm never giving that gift back to you," he says hoarsely. "You'd have to pry it out of my hands and even then, I'd fight to keep it."
His insistence makes me happy. I don't show it though. I stare at him, wishing he would just tell me what he wants. "I'm not following."
"I love the gift you gave to me." He steps closer, his hand jumping to cup my chin. "I want something more than that though. I want your forgiveness, Cadence. I need it."
***
"I need you up front, Chef." Maribel effectively breaks the moment when she steps into view in the corridor outside the office. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
Tyler leans forward to rest his forehead against mine. He sighs heavily before he turns toward Maribel. "I said that I didn't want to be disturbed."
"This is urgent." She shoots me a sympathetic look when I glance at her. "There's a supplier at the front door. He'll only talk to you."
"Tell him I'll be right there." He inhales deeply before he grazes his lips over my cheek. "I've missed you, Cadence. I want to make things right but I have to deal with this. I'm sorry."
I tap my right index finger on his chest once Maribel is out of sight. "I came to give you something. I want you to take back the tablet."
His gaze flits over my face. "No, not now. Hold onto it for me. I like that you have it."
"It belongs to you." I step back. "I think you should have it."
"Keep it." His jaw tenses. "If you have it, I know that I'll see you again."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I try to keep my composure.
"I'm scared shitless that I've fucked this up so badly that you're going to vanish. If you have the tablet, I know I can come looking for it and find you."
"We can't talk about this now," I say, my voice tinged with pain. "You hurt me but I'm not running. I don't vanish like that. I wouldn’t do that to you."
"I can breathe now." He brushes the back of his fingers over my cheek. "I'm going to call you tonight and I'll keep calling until you answer."
I arch a brow. "You're persistent, aren't you?"
"Only when it comes to you." He raises his eyes to mine. "Only with you."
CHAPTER 10
When I left Nova I was determined to go home. I mapped the route out in my mind when I first found out where new Nova was located. I did that so I could calculate the time it would take me to get to work.
I'm not like Maribel. I've never gone out of my way to show up for work early. It happened at Axel twice, and both times were accidental. I'd misread the schedule once and when I walked in three hours early, Brendon put me to work and signed off on the overtime. It was a favor in his mind, one that he wanted me to repay over and over again.
The second time I was so excited that Brendon was putting one of my dishes on the lunch menu that I went to work in the morning even though my shift didn't start until noon. I left early that day, not caring that my time would be docked.
I'd argued with Brendon the night before about something so insignificant that I can't even remember it. My punishment for disagreeing with him was swift and meant to hurt. He cut my dish from the menu. I never forgave him for that.
Working in a professional kitchen with someone you care for is sweet torture. They're there to help you celebrate the flawless services, but they're also by your side when you trip and fall. Whether they're willing to lend you a hand and help you brush off after you get back up is the way to determine whether they're worth your heart's energy or not.
That's why I'm here now. I want to know if I should invest my heart again.
The city buzzes around me. People rush past in pursuit of their air conditioned apartments or maybe they're heading to a bar for a late afternoon drink. They're all looking for the same thing, a reprieve from the stifling heat that has enveloped Manhattan.
I should be doing the same thing. The dress that I've been wearing since this morning is wrinkled and damp. Some of my hair has escaped the confines of the elastic. My ponytail hasn't survived the heat or my determination to walk around the city.
I don't care if I look like shit. I'm not here to impress anyone. That's not why I'm standing on the corner waiting for the light to turn so I can cross the street.
Magari is less than two blocks away and even if I can't step foot inside, I can sure as hell lure Sergio out. He's called three times today, each voicemail more painful to listen to than the one before. He wants a relationship. He wants to mend our broken fences. The man finally wants to be the dad I've always wanted him to be.
The only problem is the ridiculous restraining order that keeps me at least three hundred feet away from his wife.
***
"I can't believe that Falon Shaw is going to take your picture." Sophia bumps her shoulder against me. "She's a big deal, Cadence."
"What am I?" I tease. "The only time I had my picture taken by a professional was when I was a kid at school, but that doesn’t count."
"You're right." She shrugs off the lightweight cardigan she's wearing. "Falon Shaw is the real deal. You're in the big leagues now, Den. Maybe you can autograph something for me so I can sell it one day."
"You'd sell it?" My hands drop to my hips in mock annoyance. "You wouldn't keep it for yourself?"
"I'll only sell it if I'm really desperate." She bats her long eyelashes. "My roommate might kick me out one day. If that happens, I'll need to sell your autograph to make ends meet."
I want to tell her that she can stay living with me for as long as she needs. My nonna would want that. She's the one who left me this apartment in her will. I was determined to give it to Sergio once probate was finalized, but he insisted that he bought it for his mom and that he had to abide by her wishes. I moved in with the intention of eventually selling it. Now, I'm not sure I ever will.
I shake my head. "You're not going anywhere. Besides, I need you here to help me pick out some outfits for the photo shoot."
"You want me to be your stylist?"
She asks as if there's anyone else who would be qualified for the job. "You know how to dress me, Soph. I'd be lost without you."
"I'll take care of it." She starts digging in her purse. "I'll make some notes while we eat dinner."
I'm surprised she hasn't noticed that our apartment smells only of clean air and the vanilla scented candle I lit when I got home twenty minutes ago. I called Magari and asked for Sergio but he wasn't there. The last cell number he ever gave to me was disconnected a long time ago. I took my inability to reach him as a testament to fate so I came home. "I haven't had time to cook."
Her gaze lingers on my face before it shifts to the kitchen. "Do you remember that fig salad we shared a couple of months ago? I could totally go for that tonight."
"From the place down the block?" I smile at her willingness to adapt at a moment's notice. At lunch she mentioned how much she was craving a homemade burger. Without any complaint, she's shifting her focus to a restaurant delivered, bland fig salad. "I can run out to get the fixings for burgers, Soph."
"Nope." She's on the move, walking in the direction of her bedroom. "I'm calling to order two salads and a bottle of wine. My best friend, the soon-to-be sweetheart of the culinary world, is going to put her feet up and relax tonight. Dinner is on me."
CHAPTER 11
My phone rings just as Sophia clears what's left of our salads from the kitchen island. The dressing needed a punch so I added a few fresh herbs and a splash of honey. I thought it was marginally better. To Sophia it was practically orgasmic judging by the sounds she was making as she ate up every last morsel of food.
I glance down at my phone's screen on the third ring.
"Hi," I say quietly.
"Did I wake you?" Tyler's voice is low.
I glance at the clock that hangs over the stove. It's not even nine yet. "I
t's early."
He pauses before he sighs. "I want to see you. Can I come over?"
I shrug as I look up at Sophia. "I'm hanging out with my roommate tonight, Tyler."
Sophia jumps in front of me, her arms waving silently in the air. If we were playing charades, I'd be lost but I know what message she's trying to convey. She's about to ditch me so I'll be free to hang out with him.
"I won't stay long." He clears his throat. "There's something I need to say. Can you spare ten minutes?"
"Ten minutes?" I mutter. "I can give you that."
"I'm in the lobby," he rasps. "The doorman is letting me up."
With that he ends the call.
"Ten minutes?" Sophia asks with a tilt of her head. "Has the man not heard of foreplay?"
I scrub my hands over my face. "I have to change my clothes. Entertain him for me, will you? Just ask about food. He'll take it from there."
"Got it." She points toward my bedroom. "Go and put on something that shows off your ass."
"Sophia?" I turn back to look at her. "What the fuck?"
"If I had an ass like that, I'd flaunt it every chance I had."
I pivot back around, wiggle my ass and run down the hall to my room.
***
"Your roommate told me my T-shirt isn't tight enough." He thrusts his shoulders back. The motion pulls the black material taut across his chest. "What do you think?"
I think foreplay is over-rated. Talking is too.
I shake my head to chase away the thought of how he looks without a T-shirt on. "I think it's fine. You look fine."
"You look incredible. I haven't seen you in that dress before."
It's not something I wear outside the apartment. It's white, strapless and made of a lightweight fabric. It's not a Sophia Reese design. This one is a transplant from my old apartment. I've had it since I was in high school. It's comfortable and snug enough that it complements my body without blatantly highlighting anything.
BLAZE (The HEAT Series Book 3) Page 3
