by Mia Ford
“Hopefully good things?”
“Only good things. You’re said to be the world’s best up and coming chef.” He had a light accent, though I couldn’t quite place it.
“Well, that was kind of the publication.”
“Luckily it’s a publication I trust.”
I nodded and sat still, glancing around and waiting for the questions to begin. He didn’t say anything, though. He just sat across from me, his meaty, but well-manicured hands threaded together and his eyes focused as if he were in deep thought.
“Are we going to continue with the interview?” I squirmed a little. I was afraid that if I didn’t say anything, neither would he.
“Oh, this isn’t an interview.”
“What?” I sounded more alarmed than I meant to.
“Well, I suppose it is, but I’m not going to ask you questions. Anyone who can read knows you’re a good manager and a good chef. I trust your reputation, but I wanted to taste your food for myself.”
“Oh?” I was intrigued again. I’d never had an interview where I was asked to cook. “And why have you decided to conduct this kind of interview?”
He smirked and leaned forward. “Because I want someone who can make good, southern comfort food.” His accent was stronger now, and I suddenly realized it was the same accent I’d fought so hard to get rid of.
“Comfort food?”
“Sure. This place doesn’t have anything like that. You ever try and get chicken and waffles in New York? It’s impossible.”
I was shocked at the request, but nodded. I could make comfort food. Hell, I’d been cooking it since I was a kid, but I’d never had anyone ask me to do it, especially not since I’d become a professional chef.
“Can you do that?”
“I could do it in my sleep.”
He slapped the table and grinned, standing and offering me his hand. “Let’s get crackin’ then.”
I paused but took his hand, my face heating up when he pressed a tender kiss to the back of it. What was this? Some kind of romantic comedy? I brushed the gesture off as a quirk and followed him back to the kitchen. It was one of the largest I’d ever been in and I couldn’t help but whistle as I walked through the swinging doors.
“This is swanky. You don’t see Southern food restaurants with kitchen like this.”
“If I’m going to bring Southern food to New York, I’m going to do it in a big way. Go big or go home?”
After doing some research about Jami on the train ride, I’d quickly learned that was his mantra. Everything he did big. He owned the biggest properties, the biggest stock shares and the biggest night clubs in New York. If I didn’t know better, I’d assume that he had something to prove.
“Do you have everything I need to make a full country breakfast?” I could see all the utensils, but I wasn’t sure about his food stock.
“I sure do.” He motioned towards the walk-in freezer and fridge and I grinned, ready to start.
It didn’t take much time for me to find everything I needed to make biscuits, gravy, eggs and pancakes. It was probably a bit much, but I wasn’t worried about calorie count. I wanted to show him some of my specialties. Now that I’d met him, I was suddenly very interested in working for Jami. I wondered if it had something to do with his beautiful, golden eyes.
I went to work right away, working with the same skill and finesse that I used when making French or Italian cuisine. My skill was not limited to exotic dishes and I put just as much love and effort into pancakes as I did in beef wellington.
It took me less than an hour to finish the meal from scratch, which should have been impressive since everything from the biscuits to the syrup was made from scratch. I put everything on a plate and turned to present it to Jami, who hadn’t taken his eyes off me through the entire process.
“Very good.” He hummed, taking the plate. He cut off a piece of the pancake and put it in his mouth, groaning softly. “This is heavenly.”
I grinned brightly, opening my mouth to thank him, but before words could come out, he pressed a bite of pancake to my lips. My eyes darted up to his, but I took the offered bite, my body flushing. Somehow, this seemed incredibly intimate.
“Ah…Thank you,” I murmured behind my hand as I chewed the sweet, maple covered treat.
“If all your meals are this good, I don’t see why we can’t work together.”
My heart leapt with joy and a grin pulled at my lips. “Really?!”
He chuckled and nodded, taking a bite of the biscuits. “Really.” He turned and set the plate on the table behind him, stepping forward. “But before you go, I have one last question.” He moved towards me until I was pressed up against the prep table, my hands resting on the metal surface. I laughed nervously, looking away, unable to hold his intense gaze. “And what is that?”
His fingers rested on my jaw and he guided my gaze to his meet his. “I want to take you out.”
“Out?”
“On a date.”
I laughed and put a hand on his chest, slowly pushing him away. “I don’t think so.”
I knew my answer was a lie, but he didn’t have to know that. I could hear Miguel’s warning loud and clear in my mind. I’d just gotten home. The last thing I wanted to do was mix myself up in some kind of whirlwind romance with my boss.
Jami seemed shocked, but stepped back. “You’re saying no?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
He smirked and wrapped his arm around my waist, but I managed to sneak out of his hold. “I could show you this city in ways you’ve never dreamed.”
I snorted and rolled my eyes at the cheesy line. “You’ll have to try harder than that.” Sure, he was my future boss, but if he was going to hit on me like this, I felt like I had a reason to be a little snarky.
He smirked and tucked his hands in his pockets. “Is that a challenge?”
“I suppose it is.”
He shrugged casually and started to walk by me, heading for the doors. He paused beside me, leaning in, his warm breath tickling my ear.
“I accept.”
With that simple declaration, he left me flushed and strangely aroused, only pausing at the door to offer one last comment.
“You start work on Monday. I’ll see you at noon.”
Jami
I couldn’t get her out of my head. Even as my daily routine went on, I couldn’t get Lena out of my head. She was a beautiful woman with a shapely body and a spark inside of her that ignited me as well. I wanted her badly, but I couldn’t seem desperate. That wasn’t how I did things. Normally, I wasn’t the type to go after women. I didn’t go after them because they flocked to me, but this time I was going to make an exception. Lena was a well-traveled woman with some world experience under her belt. She wouldn’t be as easily swayed as the women I’d courted before her.
Playboy was the word that was often used to describe me, but I didn’t really agree with that term. It sounded slimy and unappealing. I preferred to think of myself as a connoisseur of women. I loved women. I loved having them around, I just didn’t like keeping them around. I was always upfront with the women who came to my bed, but when morning comes around they always seem to forget the conversation and the request that they be gone by breakfast time.
Some are more persistent than others and some are so offended at the fact that I don’t want to give them a ride home, that they stomp off and never come back. I prefer the second type of woman, to be honest. I’m sure they told all their friends about me, but it didn’t stop the flow of women I saw in my life. My money and my charm were too much for them to resist. Hopefully, Lena wouldn’t be any different.
I placed a tooth pick between my lips as I walked through the doors of my towering office building. The marble floor clicked under the worn leather boots I wore every day. Most of my clothes got replaced when it came time to wash them, but it was hard to find a good pair of shoes. I hung onto my shoes until they were literally falling apart at
the seams.
I greeted my employees in the hall way, waving and nodding my head politely. Sandy blonde hair fell into my eyes as I approached my secretary. Rachel was one of the only women who’d worked for me that I hadn’t fooled around with. Don’t get me wrong, I’d tried like hell to get her on a date, but she was the first and only woman to ever rebuke my advance completely. It was part of the reason I kept her around as my personal secretary and assistant. There wouldn’t be anything weird in the way of our working relationship.
“Rachel!”
“Mr. Whittle,” she said, tipping her head in my direction, her eyes not leaving the computer screen.
I put my hands flat on her desk and leaned over, grinning brightly. “How many times do I got to ask you to call me Jami.”
She cocked a perfectly sculpted brow and I could see her trying to resist rolling her eyes at me. “You know I prefer to keep our relationship professional.”
I grunted a little and stood back up. “To a fault.”
She shrugged her slender shoulders and went back to typing. God, I loved the way she ignored me. There was something thrilling about it. Powerful women were such a rare find. It was the reason I was so interested in Lena.
“What do I have going on today?”
“You have a meeting at 1:30 with the housing committee, but that’s about it.”
“Gotcha.” I started to walk away, heading for my office.
“Oh, and you ought to know that there’s a woman named Marie waiting for you in your office. She said she knew you, so I thought I should let her in.”
Rachel didn’t agree with my playboy ways and had a habit of retaliating by letting the women I slept with into my office. I think she got a kick out of seeing me try and confront them. She was lucky she was such a damn good secretary.
I groaned but made my way towards the elevator, taking it up to the thirteenth floor. Many people thought it was strange I put my office on such an infamous floor, but I’d done it on purpose. I didn’t believe that some number had a supernatural power over the universe. I’d made my own luck and I believed in that whole heartedly. It only seemed appropriate to flaunt my beliefs by putting my office in the thirteenth floor.
The long stretch of hallway was filled with the sound of muffled voices making deals and making money. It was music to my ears. When I finally reached my office, I could see the outline of a tall, busty woman through the frosted glass. The name Marie sounded familiar, but I couldn’t put a face to it. It was a fairly normal thing for me to not quite remember what my conquests looked like.
I stepped into the office and the woman’s face swung around. Her too-thin brows were pulled together and her bright red lips were twisted into a frown. She stood up, black dress clinging to every curve and line of her body, not leaving much to the imagination.
“Why didn’t you call?” she demanded.
God. Her voice was a little too high and her Brooklyn accent thick. It was like nails on a goddamn chalkboard. I winced and held my hands up, sighing softly. “I don’t call back, babe. We talked about that.”
“Don’t call me ‘babe’! You’re a sack of shit! My friends warned me about you! They told me about how you use women!”
I rolled my eyes and brushed past her, settling in my high back, leather chair. “Don’t start with this bullshit, Marie. You knew what this was. You knew what it was every time you came home with me. You use me just as much. Don’t pretend you don’t like the drinks and dresses I buy you.”
Marie was a returning customer. Now that I saw her face, I knew that I’d been with her at least twice. Both times we’d gone to restaurants outside of her price range and I’d treated her to clothes shopping, explaining to her that these little trysts weren’t signs of affection. They were obligations that I had accepted a long time ago. I wasn’t a total asshole, I wanted to give these women something in return for their time.
“I’m not a fucking hooker!”
“I never said you were!”
She stared at me, her hands balled into fists at her side. “You think you can pay me off with dresses and food! That’s not how relationships work!”
My eyes flashed with anger and I slammed my hands down on the table. “Look here, Marie! I was very straightforward with you! I told you what I wanted and I gave you what you wanted! It was a fucking exchange! I don’t play these dating games and you knew that from the start! You had every chance to walk away and you stayed exactly where you were!”
“I wanted you!”
I leaned back in my chair, my golden eyes narrowed, staring at her in slight disbelief. Did she really think she was going to pull the wool over my eyes? Did she think I was born yesterday? I’d been doing this for a long time and I knew exactly what women like her wanted.
“You wanted money.”
“That’s not true!” She argued, walking over to my chair. She reached out and touched my cheek, her cold fingers running along my unshaven jaw. “I want you, Jami…I want to be with you.”
“What’s my real name, then? What is Jami short for?” She looked confused and just stared at me. “Come on. I told you on our first date and all you’d have to do was a quick internet search if you forgot.”
“Well…It’s a trick question,” she murmured, her face going red. “Jami isn’t short for anything.”
I stood up and grabbed her arm, tugging her towards the door. “I could handle the fact that you’re annoying. I could even handle your disgusting begging, but what I can’t stand is fucking liars.” I opened my office door and pushed her out.
She stood there, shocked and just staring at me. I was angry now. At first, I’d just been annoyed, but now I was pissed off. “Get the fuck out of here, Marie! And don’t every come to my offices again.”
“But—“
“Don’t ‘but’ me! My fucking name is Jamison!” I snapped, slamming the doors closed.
The office was silent for a moment before the muffled dealing resumed. I fell into my chair and put my head in my hands for a moment, taking a deep breath through nose before letting it out through my mouth.
People who knew me always asked why I didn’t date. They asked me why I’d rather just sleep around. I was thirty-two now and most people assumed that I would have settled down by now, but the truth was that I didn’t want to settle down and I had no real intention to. Women like Marie were the reason I didn’t settle down. For some reason, people thought that only men were able to be knaiving assholes, but the truth was that women were just as capable. I didn’t want to end up trapped in a relationship with a woman who couldn’t care less about me.
For a long time, I just sat there, trying to relax and get over the anger rushing through me. I needed to just let it go and continue on with my day, but I was struggling a bit. Encounters like the one I’d had with Marie got under my skin more than I liked to admit.
There was a knock at the door and I lifted my head, grunting softly. “Come in.”
Rachel walked in, a stack of papers in her arms. She set them on the desk and glanced at me. “You look sour.”
“Don’t ever let that woman in this office every again.” I sounded a lot sharper than I meant to sound, but I couldn’t help it. Marie had put me in a bad mood.
“Mmmm…Did she piss you off?”
“Damn right she did. And I mean it, Rachel. If you let her in here again, you and I are going to have some words.”
She held up her hands as if to silently say she understood. That’s one thing I could always count on her for. She made me deal with my shit, even if I didn’t want to, but she always listened when I said enough was enough.
“If she tried to come back on the premises, I will make sure she’s removed.”
“Thank you,” I murmured going through the files. “What are these?”
“It’s the paper work on the cook you hired for your new restaurant.”
“Oh?” Wonderful Maybe it had her home address, not that I was going to do anything sketchy. �
�Perfect. Would you take down her address and have flowers sent over.”
Rachel looked at me, confused. “Flowers?”
“Yes. I want her to feel welcomed.”
“I don’t think It’s a good idea that you get mixed up with a new employee, Jami.”
I offered her a smile. “I ain’t getting tangled up with anyone. Just send her some flowers, alright?”
She rolled her eyes and took the paper. “When this comes back to bite you in the ass, I’m not cleaning up your mess,” she called as she leaved.
Once she was gone I closed the door and sat back down, glancing at the smiling face on the paper. Lena was gorgeous, and despite Rachel’s loving advice, I wasn’t going to give up until she was in my bed.
After all, it had been a long time since someone put up such a good fight.
Lena
There was nothing like the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the morning. Especially when it was brewed in your own coffee maker in your own apartment. I’d finally found a place and was eager to get settled into a routine. I’d never really had one before, but I wanted to try and ground myself. I was starting to get tired of running around without any kind of plan.
I settled onto my couch, folding my legs and staring blankly at the TV. It was weird having one of those again. I’d spent a lot of time in countries where the average family didn’t have a TV. Besides, I was often too busy running around exploring to stop and watch TV. Things were going to be different now that I was back in the States.
I sipped at my coffee and picked a book up off my coffee table, thumbing through it and humming softly to myself. Soon I was so engrossed in my reading and had tuned the world out completely. It was just me and my book. So, when my phone suddenly rang I jumped, spilling my coffee all over my lap and book.
“Fuck!” I picked the book up, trying to shake the access coffee off the pages, even though I was only making it worse.
I grabbed my phone and held it to my ear, sounding more annoyed than I meant to. “Yes?”
“Bad time?” It was Miguel.
