Inconvenient Attraction

by Zuri Day

  “You mean flighty,” Jake deadpanned before adopting Reign’s voice. “It’s all about energy, frequency and vibration.”

  “Ha! You sound just like her, man!”

  Jake reached over and picked up a piece of paper from Cayden’s desk. “What’s this?”

  “A preliminary mock-up of the golf tournament invitations. Avery just sent it over.”

  “I like it.”

  “She sent several. I printed that one because it’s my favorite.”

  “How’s it going with Lisa’s sister?”

  “That event is my smoothest-running project right now.”

  “Did you ever confront her about knowing Brittany?”

  “Yep.” Cayden relayed their brief conversation. “She felt what happened in the past should stay there. I agree.”

  “Your voice changed. Are you feeling her?”

  “Not really.”

  “Cool, bro. I totally get that answer. You’ll be in those panties as soon as the Fourth weekend is done.”

  “Not so. I’m a gentleman.”

  Jake gave him a look.

  “Okay, not unless I’m invited.”

  Jake cracked up and held up a fist bump. “My man.”

  Cayden had been joking when he said it. But it was actually how he felt.

  Six

  Avery loved food but had to admit that the intermittent fasting she’d read about and tried over the past week was worth missing a burger or two. Not only did the cream-colored suit dress she wore fit a bit less snugly, but she felt prettier, and more confident, too. Good thing, since she was getting ready to have lunch with her heartthrob—darn it, client—in about five minutes. Thankfully, at the last checkup, her doctor had given her a clean bill of health and cleared her from having to wear the neck/back brace get-up. Didn’t mean she’d turn down a chance for Cayden to rub her neck, or other sensitive places. She was trying to think about him only in professional terms. But she had to admit, if only to herself, that the man had magic fingers. She thought this as she rounded the corner into the executive lobby and looked directly into Cayden’s handsome face.

  Could a Black girl blush?

  As warm as she felt, Avery knew her body was giving the concept a good Girl Scout try. She covered her discomfort with a smile, reaching out her hand as she neared him.

  “Hello, Cayden.” They shook hands. “Good to see you again.”

  “No one turns down a chance to enjoy a good chef’s handiwork. Once you told me lunch was involved, my acceptance was guaranteed.”

  “There’s a hot new chef in demand all over the world. Maggie said he was the only one to do this event. I tracked him down in Switzerland and flew him in last night.”

  “Your brought someone over from Europe?”

  Avery laughed and looked at him coyly. “Anything for SOMA.”

  “Ah.” Cayden grabbed his heart. “I thought you were going to say anything for me.”

  Avery had no response for that. While walking the short distance from the executive offices to the restaurant located in the main building, they continued to chat about the chef, Lamar Princeton, and his innovative takes on traditional cuisine.

  Avery paused as Cayden opened the door. “I hope you’re hungry. I asked Lamar to prepare a sampler platter of items I feel will work well for your dinner.”

  “That’s perfect. I’m starved.”

  Cayden placed a hand at the small of her back, a gentlemanly gesture made totally erotic by the words that accompanied it, the way they were delivered and the curious look he gave Avery when he said them.

  The hostess looked up as Avery entered the room. Her smile was perfunctory but widened considerably when Cayden stepped in behind her.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Gray,” she said to Avery with eyes on Cayden.

  “Hello.”

  She cocked her head slightly and looked up at Cayden with doe-like eyes. “Good afternoon, sir.”

  “Good afternoon.”

  Avery was not amused and wouldn’t give the marginally rude young lady what she so obviously wanted—an introduction.

  The hostess picked up two menus and stepped from behind the stand.

  “We don’t need a table,” Avery informed her. They continued past the main dining room and down a hall of small, private dining spaces. Ornate doors held silver placards naming the rooms. Backswing. Nine Iron. Fairway. Eagle. Grand Slam.

  She turned to Cayden. “Do you always get that reaction?”

  “What reaction?” He looked genuinely surprised.

  “Adoration.”

  “She’s the hostess. It’s her job to be friendly.”

  Cayden saw friendly, Avery saw fawning. Instead of pointing that out, she decided to stay focused on why they were there. “I decided to spare the chef and prevent an uproar by having our tasting in one of the private parlors. If those dining saw what we’re about to experience, it might become a problem.”

  “He’s really that good, huh?”

  “I’ve never personally tasted his cooking but those who have give him high praise.”

  They reached a door with the word ACE stenciled on a platinum placard. Avery reached for the door handle.

  Cayden reached beyond her and grasped it. “Allow me.”

  “Thank you.”

  Inside, a table for two had been set next to a window that overlooked one of several courtyards. Shade-covered stone benches circled a fountain spurting arcs of glistening streams of water around a statue of the founder of Chicago and the town’s namesake, Jean Baptiste Point du Sable. A profusion of riotous colors framed the setting, courtesy of azaleas, columbine, yarrow, daylilies and peonies. Butterflies flittered and drifted about. The dining space was equally impressive. Meticulously shined silver and Bernardaud china set atop stark white linen. A crystal pitcher of lime and cucumber water was placed next to the small floral bouquet in the table’s center. A bottle of something sparkly chilled in a crystal and silver ice bucket on a nearby stand. Though the room was brightly lit by both inside lights and outside sun, Avery thought the scene much too romantic. Was it her imagination or had the room become smaller, warmer and cozier? It didn’t feel at all this way when she’d selected it yesterday afternoon.

  While she walked over to the table caught up in these thoughts, Cayden took a turn around the room. He stopped at a picture that hung above the fireplace of a famous retired basketball star turned golf fanatic poised in full swing.

  “Was that picture taken here?”

  Avery nodded as she walked over to join him by the large, gilded frame. “This shot was taken before he hit a hole in one, on the tenth hole, I believe.”

  “That must have happened before I moved here.”

  “You’re not from here?” Avery assumed that like the Eddington siblings, Point du Sable was where Cayden had been born and raised.

  “I was born in Chicago. Moved here when I was fifteen.”

  Avery noted the tightness that formed around his mouth before he quickly moved to the table. She followed, her curiosity more than piqued about the story surrounding that move. Before she had a chance to question him further, the door opened and Chef Lamar Princeton walked in bearing a small domed platter.

  “Hello!” Lamar’s presence was as big as his voice. He was tall, at least six feet, and muscular, with long, tamed locs secured by a leather band at the nape of his neck. He wore black jeans, a white chef’s jacket, a small silver-hooped earring and a winning smile. Placing down the platter with a flourish, he lifted Avery’s hand and kissed it as he performed a short bow. “Ms. Gray.”

  Avery smiled at his antics and dipped for the briefest of curtsies. “Chef Lamar.”

  The chef turned to Cayden. “Lamar Princeton.”

  Was it Avery’s imagination or had the brother just added bass to his voice?

/>   Cayden shook the hand Lamar offered. “Cayden Barker.”

  Avery thought their handshake resembled death grips. Inwardly, she chuckled. What do we have here? A little manly competitiveness? She couldn’t imagine what either of the other would have to feel competitive about. Must be a testosterone thing.

  She stepped to her chair. Lamar was there in an instant, pulling it out for her. “You look lovely today, Ms. Gray. I like what you did to your hair.”

  Avery was impressed that he’d noticed. She reached up and touched the flat-ironed style Touché had suggested and was glad she’d taken his advice while at the salon and gotten lashes, too. She looked over at Cayden, who was again tight-lipped. Was he still reliving whatever memory her question about his upbringing had conjured up?

  “What is beneath this dome that smells so delicious?”

  “Glad you asked, Ms. Gray.”

  “You really can call me Avery, Chef Princeton.”

  “Only if you call me Lamar.”

  Lamar was actually flirting with her. There was no mistaking it now. Subtly, so as not to be disrespectful. But Avery knew a come-on when she felt one. The creased brow that accompanied Cayden’s tight lips suggested he’d peeped Lamar’s game, too.

  “These are a few appetizers I’m testing, all with somewhat of a nod to Chicago. Warm pretzel balls with soft cheese fillings. Barbecued lamb pops. Savory, spiced buttermilk donut holes. Peking duck on cheese toast rounds.”

  “Goodness! My mouth is watering already.”

  “Then please.” Lamar reached for the pitcher and filled each goblet. “May you enjoy these delicacies while I prepare the first course.” He bowed again. “Bon appétit.”

  Both Cayden and Avery watched his exit. Cayden reached for his napkin. “He’s full of bull.”

  Avery secured her napkin on her lap and gestured toward the platter. “Let’s hope he’s as talented as he is charming. You first.”

  Cayden studied the platter briefly before selecting a lamb pop. Avery picked up a pretzel ball, popped it in her mouth and groaned. “Oh. My. Goodness,” she said while chewing, not at all embarrassed that she spoke as she ate. “Those are divine. Your guests are going to love them.”

  Cayden said nothing as he reached for a ball. He chewed slowly, thoughtfully, before lifting the napkin to wipe flecks of Himalayan rock salt from his mouth.

  “Well...what do you think?”

  Instead of answering, he tasted the duck on cheese toast. Finally, he sat back and smiled. “I think the dude can cook his ass off.”

  Avery laughed out loud. “I think I agree.”

  While sampling some of the best food Avery had ever tasted, she updated Cayden on the event preparation and got his final choice and approval on the guest invitations. Conversation quickly took a back seat whenever Lamar entered the room. Freshly cased beef, pork and plant-based hot dogs were boiled, seared in white truffle and avocado oil and topped with everything from crème fraîche and caviar to triple-cured maple bacon and shaved white truffles. Even the standard Chicago wiener was upgraded with Louis XIII cognac-infused mustard, heirloom ketchup, Vidalia onions caramelized in Dom Pérignon and a fresh herbed cucumber relish. A focaccia-inspired dough held deep-dish pizzas boasting six-different cheeses, white, pesto and tomato sauces and a variety of gourmet topping offerings—lobster, oysters, black and white truffles, Iberian-cured ham, saffron, foie gras and more. Italian beef sandwiches and hamburgers were made from Breedlove beef, an organic, grass-fed Wagyu variety from a ranch in Nevada that had been recently named “best beef” by the highly respected industry publication Gourmet Dining. Each sandwich was drizzled with Purple Stripe garlic aioli paired with an aged balsamic vinaigrette, topped with wasabi root and pink lettuce, then sprinkled with fourteen-karat edible gold. Lamar’s baby back ribs fell off the bone and the side dishes were nothing short of spectacular. Just when neither Avery nor Cayden thought they could eat another bite, Lamar brought in the dessert samplings—sweet and spicy donuts, apple crumble, gold-dusted caramel popcorn, and minishakes made with chocolate, vanilla or strawberry gelato.

  “How was your dining experience?” The smile that accompanied the question suggested that Lamar knew exactly how his diners felt about the meal.

  “Chef Lamar,” Avery began after washing down her last bite of popcorn with a sip of nonalcoholic champagne. “The reputation of stellar cooking that proceeds you does not do justice to the food I just ate.”

  “What about you, sir?”

  Cayden leaned back in his chair. “I’ve never tasted food this good in my life. Where is your restaurant?”

  “Currently I’m helping out a friend in Geneva. When stateside, I’m a private chef and caterer.”

  “Then have your calendar and business cards handy,” Avery said. “Once the dinner guests taste your food, you’re going to be a very busy man.”

  Lamar left the room. Cayden looked at his watch. “If I don’t leave now, I’ll be late for a meeting. But really, all I want to do is take a nap.”

  “I hear you.” Avery stood. So did Cayden. They headed toward the door. “I take it the dinner menu meets your approval?”

  “Everything you’ve done so far meets my approval.”

  “Thank you,” Avery said softly, feeling all girlie inside.

  They reached the valet stand near the country club entrance. Avery held out her hand.

  “After a meal like the one you just served me, a handshake seems inadequate. That meal deserves a hug!” Cayden held up his arms. “May I?”

  “Sure.” She stepped into his light embrace. His hard body, strong arms and spicy cologne assailed all of her senses. She felt like a seventeenth-century maiden about to swoon, and quickly ended contact before that actually happened.

  “Please have your assistant send over the mailing list. The invitations will go out next week.”

  “Sounds good. When is our next meeting?”

  Avery thought for a moment. “For now, I think everything else regarding the weekend can be handled over the phone or online. Now that I have your preferred color scheme, I’ll reach out to the company designing the ballroom and providing the tent and party setup for Saturday night, and will keep you in the loop with drawings, photos and 3D mock-ups. Once we’ve set up the ballroom, a day or two before the formal dinner, I’ll invite you by for a final walk-through.”

  “All right.” Cayden’s expression was unreadable as he eyed her for a moment. “I guess I’ll see you then.”

  “Yes. See you then.”

  Avery watched Cayden’s retreating frame, admiring his broad shoulders, hard tush and his swagger-filled stride. He turned and, if not for a quick spin on her own heels, would have caught her straight-up gawking. Her mind issued a strong warning as she walked back to her office.

  Careful with your heart, Avery.

  She knew she would do well to heed the advice. Let her guard down around a man like Cayden Barker, and she could find herself falling in love.

  Seven

  When the weekend rolled around, Cayden was more than ready for a couple days to relax. He’d worked long hours on a detailed financial analysis regarding AI Interface, his industry-transforming financial software, and sent copies to Dwight and Derrick. With as often as his thoughts had drifted to Avery and what may or not have taken place between her and the chef, it’s a wonder he got it done.

  Once again, Cayden was enjoying the luxury of Jake’s Rolls-Royce Dawn. Riding into the city had been nothing short of amazing while listening to music on a system that couldn’t have sounded better had the performance been live. Even with the top down, the notes seemed to wrap themselves around him. The music and the wind made for little conversation. That was cool with Cayden. Between his software program and the charity event, he had a lot on his mind. Including Avery. She seemed almost as invested in the event as he was, and just as determin
ed to make it a success. Probably because he was the first client she’d handled without Maggie, but Cayden liked to believe it was a little bit due to his swagger, too. She was digging him. As much as she tried to hide it, he knew that for sure. Admitting that he was equally attracted to her didn’t come as easy. Even if he’d wanted to pursue something more personal, she was not the person with whom to do it and now was not the time. Eddington Enterprise. His interface invention. The fraternity nomination. All major, and enough on his plate. Anything or anyone else was a distraction, especially someone who worked at the country club, a place that was the social heartbeat of Point du Sable. What if a casual dalliance turned into her wanting something more? How easy would it be to navigate a scorned ex working at the town’s most prestigious location? Tricky at best; messy on the worst side. The town was already so small that everyone thought they knew your business. Best to keep his out of the town’s most popular social scene. In a very real way, his future and what it would look like was very much at stake.

  They pulled up to the front of the hotel. All eyes were immediately on them as they uncoiled six-feet-plus of mouthwatering manliness from Jake’s stark white convertible and headed inside Chicago’s Four Seasons to attend First Friday, a Chicago-styled reworking of this popular networking model created exclusively for the crème de la crème of the Windy City’s up-and-coming world changers. The games began as soon as they entered and crossed the hotel’s lobby.

  “Hey, handsome.”

  “Well, hello there!”

  “Can I go with you?”

  Both men were cordial, smiling as they responded, giving the women heart palpitations with a wink or two. They reached the elevator without being attacked, which had not at all been a certainty.

  The door opened. Cayden was the first to step inside, leaning against the gleaming back wall. “I don’t know how I let you talk me into this.”

  “Get used to it. Once you become SOMA...”

  “It’s a secret organization. Who will even know?”