by Layla Hagen
Just as I mentally whip my thoughts back into line, promising myself not to let myself be affected by his presence, he adjusts one hem of his suit jacket, revealing he’s wearing cuff links. Well, hell.
Nate in a suit is my weakness.
Nate in a suit and cuff links is my kryptonite.
To my surprise, he asks for a visitor badge himself.
“Why do you need one?” I ask as we head to the elevator.
“Anyone who doesn’t work in this building needs one, even if they work within the network.” He walks a step behind me, so close I can practically feel his breath on my neck.
“You did something with your hair,” he comments as we come to a halt in front of the elevators and I press the button to summon one. “I love that it gives me easy access to your neck.” As if to prove the point, he brings his mouth to my ear, adding, “I’ve always loved your neck.”
Every nerve ending on my neck and face snaps to life, buzzing with his proximity.
Damn it, this won’t do. We’re about to go into a business meeting, and I don’t want to appear anything less than a hundred percent professional.
“Nate,” I admonish, stepping to one side and turning to face him. He looks amused. “Please behave during the meeting. I don’t want anyone thinking you only agreed to this because we’re….”
“Yes?”
“Dating.”
His smirk grows more pronounced. “Might I remind you that we haven’t been on a single date yet. You’re playing hard to get, Alice.” His green eyes scrutinize me with an intensity that nearly has my knees buckling. As if knowing the exact effect his words have on me, he steps closer, leaning slightly forward. Without breaking eye contact, he adds in a low, gruff voice, “It’ll be my immense pleasure to chase you.”
With a ping, the elevator doors open and half a dozen suits step out. Nate and I move out of their way, and I’m careful to keep my distance from him because holy hell. This man has a dangerous way with words. Several other people join us in the elevator ride, and they serve as an effective buffer between Nate and me.
Our stop, the third floor, arrives all too soon. As we step out of the elevator, he whispers in my ear, “I never play by the rules, Alice. You should know that by now.”
I don’t get the chance to admonish him because a blonde bombshell—for lack of better word—welcomes us.
“Welcome, Ms. Bennett. Welcome, Mr. Becker. I’m Sarah, Mr. Andrew’s assistant.” She shakes hands with both of us, and she all but drools over Nate. Irrational jealousy rears its head almost instantly, and I barely bite back a snappy reply. I remind myself we haven’t even been on a date yet, as Nate correctly pointed out. Theoretically, he’s a free agent. I discreetly observe him as Sarah leads us down a maze of corridors to the meeting room. He makes polite conversation with her, and his body language is perfectly professional. Or maybe I’m just reading into it what I want.
Five men and three women are already in the meeting room when we enter. I recognize one of the women because she regularly appears in front of the camera on Delicious Dining. They all sit on one side of the long table, and Nate and I are asked to sit on the opposite side. I feel like we’re in front of a jury.
The moment Mr. Andrews, the head of the team, asks me if I can tell him why I’m a good fit for them, I begin with my pitch. Shoulders squared, chin held high, I speak with confidence, knowing my numbers are good, my food even better. The most efficient way to become confident in an area is to be the best at it. I’ve done this before when I talked to partners such as tourism agencies and local attractions, and I roped them in to recommend my restaurants to their customers.
But a few minutes into my pitch, I notice some of their expressions turn skeptical, and my confidence wavers. Drawing in a sharp breath, I try not to panic. Truth is, I’ve never been good with first impressions. Or rather, I make the wrong impression. More than once, people have told me they thought I was a stiff, unapproachable ice queen when they first met me. I refused to believe it at first, outright dismissed it. But after receiving the same feedback multiple times, I knew there must be some truth to it. I can usually shake off that impression as I get to know people better, but here I only have this one shot.
Casting a glance in Nate’s direction, I notice a crease on his forehead as he looks around the table. My stomach sinks. This isn’t all in my mind. When I finish my pitch, Nate steps in, retelling a small anecdote from our childhood. It only loosely ties to my restaurant business and what I was saying moments before, but the atmosphere at the table instantly changes. Several of them chuckle, and the others openly laugh. I’d worked in three funny lines in my pitch, and I didn’t get nearly the same reaction.
Then again, Nate always had this incredible charisma. It takes me some time to realize what he’s doing: he’s projecting his own charisma on me, and damn if it isn’t working.
The winning moment is when Nate tells them he was the first tester for my now-famous casserole, and I nearly poisoned him, it was that bad. He adds how proud he is that I’ve come this far. Everyone at the table bursts out laughing, and I smile sheepishly.
“Ms. Bennett, your restaurants will be a wonderful fit for our show,” the head of the team exclaims, with a few others nodding in agreement. A weight lifts from my shoulders, a knot unfurls in my chest, and I cast a glance full of gratitude at Nate, who winks at me and then offers one of his trademark Cheshire cat smiles. Confused, I cock a brow at him. In response, he merely glances downward to my legs. Oh no! My dress inched waaaay up my thighs, probably because I nervously crossed and uncrossed my legs too many times during the pitch. As inconspicuously as possible, I rearrange my dress, and Nate accidentally on purpose touches my outer thigh with his knee. He’s done being on his best behavior.
***
Nate
Alice is smiling from ear to ear when we leave the building. I love seeing her happy, and it gives me pleasure that I played a part in putting that smile on her face.
“It went fantastic,” she exclaims.
“They absolutely loved you.”
“Only after you cast some of your magic charisma over me. They were starting to look right through me two minutes into my pitch. Thank you.”
We walk side by side toward the coffee shop three blocks down where Blake is meeting us so we can report how the meeting went. Even though the Delicious Dining show focuses mostly on the food, the bar is an added bonus, and they’ll showcase it properly.
“Yeah, you sometimes come off as….”
“Ice queen? Stiff? Don’t spare punches. I’ve heard it all before. No idea how to fix it.”
“It’s a matter of trust. When you first meet people, you’re not comfortable enough being yourself. After you warm up to them, they fall under your charm.”
I invited myself to this meeting precisely for this reason. It doesn’t always happen, but I figured if it does, I’d rather be next to her and help out. She’s not exaggerating about my charisma. It has helped my career a lot. No one likes someone who has no problem calling them out on their shit, but they might accept him if he makes them laugh too.
“What was your first impression about me?”
“Are you kidding? I was shell-shocked when I saw the lot of you. I mean, Sebastian did tell me he had eight siblings, but hearing about it still didn’t prepare me for seeing all of you.”
“So I didn’t stand out?” she asks with a pout, and damn if I don’t want to kiss it away from her pretty face.
“I remember thinking you were the most annoying.”
“Wow, talk about a low blow. And I thought the sun shone out of your butthole from the moment I saw you.”
I come to a halt as we turn right into the narrow side street leading to the cafe and she stops too, half turning to me. “Really?”
“Yeah, but I used to get a kick out of making you smile. Took it as a personal victory. My affliction only got worse with time, especially after the hormones kicked in.”
“So much appreciation for me and you’re still torturing me with the rule of five?”
She shrugs. “That was puppy love. It faded. Now we’re adults. Totally different game. I’m older now, and wiser.”
I know what she’s doing: protecting herself. But she shouldn’t bother because I will not hurt her. I’ll make mistakes because I’m out of my depth when it comes to seriously pursuing a woman, but I’ll make an honest effort to not screw up often. But if there is one thing I know, it’s that trust must be earned.
“And I like busting your balls.”
Alice is one hell of a woman! I never know what might come out of her pretty mouth, but right now, her words travel straight to my groin, and we’re out on a street.
Lifting one hand to her face, I place the pad of my thumb on the center of her lower lip. “Careful, Alice. I don’t want to hear that word from your pretty mouth unless we’re alone, and you’re about to do something other than ‘busting’ them.”
She exhales sharply, and I have a crystal-clear vision of us getting down and dirty. She licks her lower lip, but since I haven’t lowered my hand, she inadvertently licks the tip of my thumb too.
My control snaps. The next seconds pass in a blur. I hook an arm around her waist, lifting her off her feet. Blindly, I back her up against the nearest wall, crushing my mouth to hers. Nothing else matters in this moment except Alice. I slide my hand to the back of her head, my thumb resting at the base of her hairline. I slip my other fingers under the fabric of her dress, splaying them on her back. She moans like I’ve touched her intimately. And the thought of her sweet, wet pussy is enough to make me groan too.
“You drive me crazy,” I inform her after I pull back, resting my forehead against hers.
Something feels off, and it takes me a few seconds to realize why. She’s barefoot, standing on her toes on top of my shoes. We seem to realize this at the same time. She bursts out laughing, and the sound is so contagious that I join her instantly. Her shoes lie a few feet to our right, in the spot where I lifted her minutes ago. We attract stares as we clumsily make our way to her shoes. She stands on her toes on top of my feet the entire way. A few passersby snicker as I help her into her heels again.
“Well, I’ll give you this. No one’s made me forget my shoes before.” Just then, Blake turns onto the side street too, waving at us. “Let’s give my brother the news and tell him what a great team we made during the meeting.”
While Blake is still out of earshot, I whisper, “We’ll make a good team somewhere else too, Alice.”
“Oh yeah? Where?”
“In a bed. Against a wall. On the hood of my car. I promise I can make you forget more than your shoes anywhere. When I’m deep inside you, when you’re full of me, you’ll even forget your name.”
Chapter Ten
Alice
Next Monday, Blake and I are preparing a prelaunch party for Blue Moon. Only the family is invited, and they give feedback on anything they believe can be improved. I’ve done this ever since opening my first restaurant, and it’s served me well. I can count on them to give me honest feedback before opening the doors to guests and reviewers. I invited Nate too, but he’s swamped at work. Since he officially accepted the job here last week, his schedule has become even nuttier than mine. We’re finally having our first date next week. After being kissed out of my shoes, saying that I’m looking forward to it is an understatement.
“This is going to be perfect,” I exclaim, drumming my fingers on the bar. Excitement courses through my veins. “Do you need help?”
“The bar is my domain.” Blake’s behind it, crushing some ice for drinks. “You’re not allowed to touch anything.”
Smiling lazily, I lean across the bar, grasping one of Blake’s squeaky clean glasses and then promptly removing my hand, leaving my fingerprints on it. He points a menacing finger my way.
“Stop.”
“Come on, you’re the fun brother. Why so serious?”
“Just want things to work out perfectly.”
***
At six o’clock sharp, the family starts arriving. Ava and Sebastian arrive first with baby Will. My big brother pulls me into a bear hug while Ava sniffs the air, rubbing her son’s head.
“Oh, this is going to be a feast,” she exclaims.
Logan and Nadine arrive next, closely followed by Max and Christopher and their fiancées. I’ve always had trouble telling the identical twins apart, but it became significantly easier ever since they each have a fiancée on their arms. Neither pair has set their wedding date yet, but we’re expecting it any second now. Max confided in me that he and Emilia wanted to throw the wedding this year, but then Emilia’s grandmother died, and no one was in the mood to celebrate anymore. The poor woman had Alzheimer’s, and her last months were very hard.
My parents, Daniel, and Pippa with her family close the convoy. The only one missing is my baby sister Summer. I invited her, but she had a ton of work at her gallery in Rome. She would’ve caved if I’d pressed more, but I would’ve felt like an idiot making her fly over just for this.
Blake and I give the family the grand tour, starting with the bar area. I’m so proud of our work it’s ridiculous. Finding the perfect location for Blue Moon took a while. My other two restaurants are high in the hills, with scenic views of the city, but I really wanted one on the waterfront. So when the opportunity came up to buy an old restaurant in Fisherman’s Wharf and refurbish it, Blake and I bought it immediately. The view of San Francisco Bay and the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance is fabulous, and we made sure to build in large panoramic windows so guests can enjoy all this beauty. The interior is sleek and elegant, but also warm. The walls are the color of champagne, and the furniture is a deep, dark brown with tints of red. Victoria Hensley, Christopher’s fiancée, was the decorator, and she did an excellent job.
During the tour, I let my brother do most of the talking while I focus on everyone’s reactions—what catches their attention, what has them wrinkling their nose, and so on. A lot can be learned from body language. Sometimes people can’t pinpoint exactly what they dislike about something, so they don’t mention it at all.
Afterward, Blake starts preparing cocktails for everyone. Soon he becomes overwhelmed, so I join him.
“Alice—”
“Yes, this is your man cave, but you’re going to give yourself carpal tunnel if I don’t help you.”
My brother elbows me playfully but doesn’t reject my help.
“They weren’t so excited for my bar opening,” he comments.
“Because the ultimate payoff here is a feast. Food will always be a bigger attraction than booze in our family. Keep that in mind, little brother.”
Once everyone has emptied their cocktails, we invite them over to the restaurant area.
Over dinner, everyone shares their impressions, and I jot everything down. Blake listens intently, following up any criticism with smart questions.
“You’re so much better than me at asking for feedback,” I murmur to him. “Love your questions.”
Blake winks at me. “Thank fuck you’re writing everything down. I never bother and then forget half the feedback. We make a great team.”
“We do.”
When Blake and I first decided to work together, I wasn’t sure how this would pan out. My relationship in the past with him can be summed up as follows: I covered up his and Daniel’s wrongdoings whenever necessary, and by way of thanking me, both my darling brothers teased me incessantly. But we’re working together beautifully. I love having someone I can trust completely by my side, running things. I don’t trust people outside the family easily, and it takes me a while to warm up to anyone new on the staff. Probably why I have such a hard time relinquishing control to my restaurant managers.
Logan raises his glass. “Alice and Blake, you’ve outdone yourself.”
“Say, Logan,” Daniel interjects from across the table, “what’s it gonna take for you to give me some
compliments? Now that you’re freely handing them out even to Blake, I feel like a second-class citizen.”
Half the table bursts out laughing, including me. Logan shakes his head, running his thumb and forefinger over his jaw, a look of fake concentration on his face.
“Don’t get on my bad side, Daniel,” Logan warns, but his tone is playful. Daniel and Blake used to spend most of their time partying until a few years ago, and Logan was always riding their asses because of it, edging them on to become more responsible. Now that Blake and Daniel both own businesses, Logan backed off, but the twins still love to pick on our older brother for fun.
“Well, I have an invitation for all of you. It’s short notice, but I hope you’ll be able to make it. I want to add some of the more interesting climbing routes at Joshua Tree to my company’s offerings. Would anyone like to help me test them? I’m heading out there in two weeks.”
My brother Daniel owns an outdoor sports and extreme adventure business. His question is met with an awkward silence, and I can practically hear everyone’s mind spinning, searching for an excuse. Yep, that’s where the Bennett clan draws the line at family loyalty: extreme adventures. I’m brave, but when Daniel says interesting, he actually means dangerous. After all, they’re meant to offer an adrenaline spike. Several of us, myself included, have been on such climbing trips before, which is why I understand the silence. I have a few gray hairs, and I swear they sprung up after every trip.
“Daniel,” Logan says, “I hate to break it to you, but we’re not exactly your target market.”
“We all know your idea of wild means an outfit that doesn’t require you to wear cuff links,” Daniel deadpans. “I was referring to the younger crowd.” His eyes travel over to Max, Christopher, Blake, and rest on me. Damn, damn, damn.
Christopher and Max immediately say they already have plans.
