Mocha Me Crazy

by Kristen Flowers

  “And fucking your VP isn’t inappropriate?” She spat back.

  “Maybe, but I didn’t fuck you on the table during a meeting.”

  “Fine,” Stacy huffed before turning and stomping out of my office.

  I couldn’t help staring at her ass as she walked out the door and down the hallway. As I saw her turn into her office I recognized just how out of character it was for me to turn down such a hot woman. I closed the office door and sat behind my desk with a heavy sigh.

  I curled my fist and raised it, ready to slam it on the table in frustration, but instead I took another deep breath. Physical outbursts weren’t going to help me. I stood up and paced back and forth a couple minutes before finally leaning against the desk to stare out the window. In this office building my view was mostly of other buildings; it would have been a depressing view had it not been for the good fortune of being right off the Chicago River.

  I stared at the numerous windows reflected on the surface of the water and thought of how cold everything seemed in my office. It was sterile, just like what Evelyn wanted to avoid in her dream restaurant. I sunk to the couch against the wall and stared at the ceiling with Evelyn still on my mind. My thoughts kept turning to her for one reason or another. I tapped my leg as I debated what to do with that before standing up and walking over to the desk.

  I picked up my phone to send her a text.

  -Want to go out tonight instead of cooking a meal at the house?-

  I set the phone down, but then immediately picked it back up. I waited for a reply, which came shortly enough. I was smiling when I saw her name on the screen, until I read her message.

  -I’m just your chef.-

  Even through text she was impossible.

  “Well, maybe not that impossible,” I muttered when I thought of what we had done the night before. I sat back and thought about her breasts and how incredibly soft her skin was only to be interrupted by my phone buzzing again.

  -We shouldn’t be going on any dates despite what happened-

  -Why are you assuming it’s a date?-

  I was quick with my response and I could already imagine her cheeks tingeing pink or the tips of her ears turning red.

  -Let’s keep things appropriate-

  I stared at my phone’s screen for a moment, mulling over the word ‘appropriate.’ I just had an argument with Stacy over that sort of thing but, in my mind, the situation with Evelyn was completely different. She wasn’t just some hot girl in the office I had set my sights on. She also wasn’t some annoying one-night stand. She was completely different.

  I caught myself thinking about her for too long and in too much detail so I straightened up and started to text a reply.

  -Relax. I just wanted to get out of the condo for a night and thought you’d know a good restaurant to go to with all the best dishes to order.-

  I sat back in my chair as I waited for a reply. This time it took a little longer, but I didn’t get antsy. I figured she was deciding what to do. To me, that meant she at least had a tiny bit of interest in hanging out with me. My phone buzzed with another alert.

  -Sure-

  I smiled. It didn’t bother me one bit that she only replied with a single word. I noticed the funny feeling of excitement coursing through me. It was unfamiliar. I had been with plenty of woman before, but none of them gave me the sense of giddy excitement I had now.

  There really was something different about Evelyn.

  Or at least there was something different in the way she made me feel.

  The town car Remi sent for me pulled up to a busy restaurant. It was my choice of restaurant based off what Remi said he wanted. We settled on Italian and I told him this place was supposed to be great, though I had never been to it myself.

  “So we can do it together,” he told me, his tone of voice as suggestive as ever. Even as I slipped on the little black dress with pointed sweetheart neckline and gold embroidery, I tried to remind myself this wasn’t a date or anything remotely close to one. I had repeated, “this is not a date,” over and over as I pulled on and adjusted the lace bolero.

  I stepped out onto the curb in front of the restaurant and instantly felt confident in my wardrobe choice for the night. I knew it was an upscale, four-star restaurant but scoping out the crowd let me know I fit in perfectly. I scanned the crowd for Remi, who came out from a small group of people with a wide smile. It was half-genuine and half-smug. He always found new ways to confuse me.

  “Good evening,” he greeted me.

  “Good evening, Mr. Parker.” I smiled.

  Without thinking, I extended my hand so he would take it and lay a small kiss at the top. The two of us laughed before turning and walking into the restaurant. It wasn’t until we were inside that we let go of each other’s hands.

  Remi ordered one of the most expensive bottles of wine, before looking across the table at me. I saw him admiring me. I could practically see the compliment on his lips, but he held back. Part of me was thankful for him showing restraint, but another side of me felt a little disappointed. I remembered the look in his eye when he complimented me before we were together for the night and my stomach tumbled. I was already nervous and thought it wasn’t a good idea to become prey to my wandering thoughts. Thankfully, the server was quick to bring us the wine.

  “We’ll take a few more minutes, thanks,” Remi dismissed the server politely.

  I took a sip of the wine and nodded in approval. “So you’re in the mood for taste testing?”

  Remi nodded, “Under your advisement.”

  “Okay, let’s see how adventurous you really are.”

  Remi leaned in and didn’t miss a beat, “Oh, I’m plenty adventurous.”

  I ignored what he said in favor of catching our server’s attention.

  “May I help you, Miss?” He had a hint of an Italian accent.

  “Yes, we’d like to get started with the Zucca and Polpo Antipasti.”

  “Will that be all, miss?”

  “For now,” I smiled. I turned back to look at Remi who looked a bit horrified. I had to cover my mouth to keep from bursting out in laughter. I knew exactly why he had that look on his face so I took it upon myself to reassure him, “It’s delicious and you’ll love it.”

  “I’ve never eaten anything like–”

  “Well, isn’t that the point?”

  “Guess so,” Remi mumbled before leaning in. I saw the smirk playing at his lips and already knew he was gearing up to say something inappropriate. “I’m down to taste plenty of new delicacies of yours. I mean, with you.”

  I took a long, slow sip of my wine before looking around at the restaurant. I did everything to avoid eye contact with Remi because I knew that would only make the knots in my stomach tighten. I admired the look of the restaurant; it was very sleek and clean. I liked the large overhead lightshades that looked like big circles covering the ceiling. Remi and I were sitting in a corner booth with a window view. The chairs at the center of the dining room were upholstered in a crisp white fabric. Everything was very uniform and minimalist, but they did it well. I wondered what the kitchen looked like. That was always what my first thought whenever I went out to eat.

  The server arrived with the dishes and I couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Remi’s face. “That’s not even the octopus,” I informed him.

  “I can tell,” he said. “But why did you order us a bouquet of flowers? Is this a decoration or something?” He leaned in to observe it closer with squinted eyes and then glared at me. I hadn’t stopped laughing at him the entire time.

  I reached out and arranged some of the food on a fork before turning it over to Remi. He just stared at me.

  “Take it,” I urged him.

  He cautiously reached out and looked carefully at the food before putting it in his mouth. The moment he closed his mouth and tasted it, I saw his eyes light up. “Oh,” he said, mouth still full. I held up my hand with eyes wide to tell him to wait. He gulped down the bi
te.

  “The pretty garden-looking thing is actually really good!”

  “Garden-looking thing,” I repeated.

  I found it funny how little exposure he had to this kind of food. He grew up with a wealthy, albeit absent, father and was now wealthy in his own right. I figured he had to frequent four- and five-star restaurants, but perhaps he went to safer bets. He likely never deviated from the same few items. Maybe I was a bit of a food snob, but having grown up wanting nothing more than to be a renowned chef I figured it came with the territory.

  “So now the octopus,” he said hollowly.

  “That’s not even a weird thing to eat,” I defended, “Besides, didn’t you just learn your lesson?”

  “What’s my lesson? That eating out with you is surprising, but tasty?”

  His words dripped with the rather crass innuendo he had just wormed into his question. I wanted to tear my eyes away from him, but was finding it difficult. Normally, I would have been totally repulsed by something like that, but not this time. Remi was playful about it and now that I had gotten to know a different side of him, I knew he wasn’t actually that asinine. I briefly wondered if he was different when he had sex with other women than the way he was with me. I took a sip of wine to wash away such a thought.

  “Just try it,” I instructed.

  Remi took his fork and placed a small bite in his mouth. His eyes didn’t quite light up like they had with the Zucca, but I could tell he liked it. “Okay, from now on I won’t make faces about whatever you order,” he declared.

  “I guess you did learn your lesson,” I told him with a smile. I quickly held my hand up, “Don’t even go there.”

  Remi laughed and stuffed a larger bite of food into his mouth. The two of us didn’t take long to finish off the plates and soon the server was back to take another order from me. “We’ll take an order of the Gnocchi, please. We’ll follow that up with the Agnello and Anatra. Thank you.” The server took the menus from us and walked off to place the order.

  “I have no idea what you just ordered except for the Gnocchi,” Remi said with a smile. He looked quite confused, but at least he wasn’t acting like I had just ordered something completely repulsive and unheard of for us. I finished my glass of wine and he wasted no time in filling my glass before adding some to his own.

  “I’m sure you’ll like it all,” I told him confidently.

  “I do like it all,” Remi told me. It was distinctly a compliment directed toward me. There was no way he would have said it in the tone of voice he did if it was truly about food. “A lot,” he added before taking a long sip of his wine without taking his eyes off me.

  I took a deep breath and decided it was time to shoot down his advances once and for all. My heart was beating fast and I had a ball of nerves in us stomach that threatened to ruin my appetite. “I’m just your chef and culinary advisor,” I told him with a nervous laugh.

  “Well you weren’t just my ‘culinary advisor’ last night,” he said so quietly I could barely hear him.

  I flushed red. He wasn’t being brash or even playful. He sounded and looked serious, and that was what scared me more than anything. I didn’t know what to make of it. Plus, I had been working so hard at moving past that one night of passion and stay on the professional path. If Remi was looking at me as more than his chef, I was in trouble. Just as my panic began to rise, the server stepped up to our table to save me from the awkward moment.

  “How is everything?”

  “Delicious! We’re debating ordering another item, but we’ll need a couple minutes to decide. May we see your dessert menu as well?”

  “Yes, of course. Is there anything I can get for you sir?”

  “We’ll take some more water,” Remi replied.

  The server excused himself and rushed off for the pitcher of ice water to refill our glasses. I hoped we could continue to have a nice dinner together. If Remi could bite his tongue back from his suggestive comments, then it could actually be possible. Aside from his remarks and a couple of looks he gave me, I was having a great time with him. I watched him gulp down about half the glass of water before refilling our glasses of wine.

  “And that’s the last of it,” he announced, shaking the empty bottle.

  I pressed my hands to my hot face, “Oh, my. We drank a lot.”

  “Is it that bad? I don’t think so. How about you pick one more entrée and a dessert for us to share? I could still go for more.”

  “There is something else I wanted to try,” I admitted with a small smile. My eyes lit up with excitement. I hoped he would like it. So far the restaurant had delivered quite tasty dishes so my expectations were rather high.

  “Have we made a decision?”

  “We have,” I told the waiter. “We will be ordering one more entrée, a Primi, and we’ll follow that up with a shared dessert. We’d like one order of the Cappelleti and for our dessert we’ll each have the Piccolo.”

  As soon as the server left, Remi leaned in, “What’s Piccolo?”

  I giggled softly, not because I was teasing him, but because I found it endearing that he looked so embarrassed to ask me. I could tell he was rather concerned about ordering a desert he couldn’t even recognize.

  “Oh, don’t worry, it’s just a selection of six small Italian pastries,” I filled him in. “The chef selects the pastries, but I’ve never had one I didn’t like!”

  “You really are a foodie.” Remi grinned.

  “I’d hope so. I am a chef, after all.”

  “And a damn good one at that.”

  The knots in my stomach exploded and filled me with giddiness and nerves. I clutched my stomach, but quickly played it off so I didn’t invite any questions from him. I turned to look out the window because I needed a break from looking at him. Not only were his eyes captivating with a deep stare, he was too devastatingly handsome. It was impossible to ignore how attractive the man was and now that I had spent the night with him, I only found him that much more alluring.

  Of course, it certainly helped to have seen a more interesting side to him than the persona he always adopted around others. Even now throughout dinner he was a cross between the open and real man from the previous night and the cocky playboy type I initially knew him to be.

  We finished up dessert and Remi paid. I felt awkward about it, but he made it clear that it only made sense for him to pay. I let it go, but it was also clear in the expression on my face that I wasn’t totally relaxed about the situation. We made our way toward the front door through a thick crowd. My heart leapt to my throat when I felt his hand on the small of my back as he walked out behind me. It could have meant nothing, but my mind was too much of a jumbled mess to figure it out. By the time we were out on the curb, Remi’s limousine was already there and waiting for the two of us.

  “I can’t believe you really go around in a limo,” I commented.

  “What’s wrong with a limo?”

  “It’s just so cheesy,” I told him. “And with your rep–” I stopped mid-word. I didn’t want to make him feel like his dad did. I turned to look at him, apology written all over my face.

  “Nah, I get it,” he told me. His mood didn’t change and I was thankful for that, though I did make a mental note to watch my words. “I actually don’t go around in a limo every day. I usually use the town car, but I thought the limo would be nice for tonight.”

  I was surprised about the thought he put into this. Then a realization hit me like a ton of bricks, “This night sure seems a lot like a date considering it isn’t one.”

  “It’s definitely not a date. You’re just my food advisor, remember?”

  “Culinary advisor,” I corrected.

  Remi laughed and nodded in agreement. He guided me into the limo before walking around to get in from the other side. He told the driver we were heading home and then closed the privacy divider, which made me even more nervous. I was feeling a bit tipsy from all the wine we had over dinner and was quite giddy.
I never wanted to let my inhibitions go so much, but Remi had bested me again. I had to admit he was charming and no matter how much I wanted to ignore my feelings, they were at the surface and growing stronger by the minute. Still, I needed to keep my head on straight. A fancy dinner and a flashy car couldn’t get the best of me—even though that wasn’t what would do me in.

  “You’re great,” Remi told me quietly as he moved a bit closer, “At what you do. You’re great at many things.”

  He was looking at me like he had the previous night after our kiss got heated. I gulped. It was too hard to ignore that look in his eye and the rising temperature of my body. I breathed out and fanned myself as if the car suddenly started blasting the heater at full force.