I head to my office and take a seat in my desk chair, opening up Mise en Place, the menu-planning software program I commissioned from a developer. I can add a recipe for a new menu item and the program will cross-reference the ingredients with our inventory. Off the top of my head, I begin writing an amuse-bouche recipe that makes more sense when followed by a charcuterie course. I’ve barely typed three words before my mobile vibrates in my pocket.
Looking at the screen, I sigh when I see Edward’s name. I’m about to answer, when Alice appears at my office door. Quickly tapping the button to reject the call, I tuck the phone away in my pocket.
“Alice,” I greet her, perhaps a bit too excitedly. “Good morning. It’s wonderful to see you. Please have a seat.”
She looks confused by my request but acquiesces without protest. “I just wanted to thank you,” she says as she takes a seat across from me, and I can’t help noticing she’s not wearing the same color jeans as everyone else. “I didn’t get to thank you last night. It must have taken a lot of effort to read Judy’s notes, and find my friend’s address, and all that.”
I wave off her gratitude. “The apology was mine to make. Though it is very much appreciated, your gratitude isn’t necessary.”
Why do I sound so stiff?
I attempt to relax, but one glance at her curvy body, and all I can think of is the many other ways she can show me her appreciation.
She appears taken aback by my dry delivery. “Okay… I guess I’ll just…get to work.”
She’s almost disappeared into the corridor when I call out to her.
“Alice?”
She turns around and leans forward to peek into my office. “Yes?”
I hesitate for a moment, knowing my only motivation for what I’m about to do is my desire to be near her. There are other—possibly more qualified—people in this building from whom I can ask assistance.
But there’s no one else I’d rather work with.
And that’s definitely not an admission I should be making to myself.
“I’d like your opinion on something,” I say before I can change my mind.
Her full lips curve into a charming smile. “Of course,” she replies, as she enters the office again. “What can I do to—for you? Sorry.”
Her slip of the tongue puts me at ease as it reminds me of the flickers of desire I’ve seen in her eyes. I saw it when we first met in the kitchen during her interview, though I wondered if that was because she thought I was Edward. But I felt the sparks again when she came to inform me she had accepted the hostess position. I recognized the hunger in her sable eyes when I lost my patience with her yesterday.
But it was unmistakable when I fed her last night. Her mouth enjoyed the food, but her body was craving so much more.
“I need to come up with an alternative to the bread course I shared with you last night,” I say, ignoring the vibration of my mobile in my pocket.
Edward always has the worst timing.
“But why? It was perfect,” Alice blurts out.
Her cheeks blush as she seems embarrassed by her inability to conceal her gushing praise.
I purposely ignore the compliment, immediately launching into the problem at hand. “We’re having equipment issues and may not be able to execute the bread course we’d initially planned.”
Execute? I’m speaking as if we’re planning a military mission.
She cocks an eyebrow, though I can’t decide if the emotion behind her eyes is skepticism or triumph. “I hope I’m not being presumptuous, but you seem a bit tense.”
“I seem a bit tense?”
“Well, if you’re asking for my help with the issue, it can’t be that bad.”
“Please enlighten me, love. Should I be unfazed about having to change the menu six days before opening?” I ask as I glance down at her jeans. “And the fact my hostess can’t be bothered to follow the dress code. Do I really need to have this conversation with you?”
She purses her plump lips, and the glare of the ceiling lights glints off her lip gloss. “The jeans you gave me were too small on my a—on my bottom. If they had fit me properly, I’d be wearing them.”
I resist the urge to ask her to turn around so I can get a better look at her gorgeous arse. Instead, I beckon her to join me on my side of the desk. “Come.”
She eyes me warily. “I don’t know what Edward told you, but I’m not a casting couch kind of girl.”
I roll my eyes. “The furthest thing from my mind, love.”
“Why?”
“I want to show you the program I’m using.”
She slowly rounds the desk and stands behind my chair, cautiously putting a few feet of distance between us. “Why do you want to show me this?”
“You want to be my sous chef eventually, don’t you?”
Glancing back at her over my shoulder, I spot a reluctant grin spreading across her rosy cheeks. This seems to loosen her up, and she steps closer to get a better look at the computer screen.
I wish my intentions were more altruistic. But I’m really just dying to get a whiff of the scent that enveloped me when I was near her last night. It reminded me of the first few notes that hit your nose when macerating raspberries with sugar and lime.
Refreshingly fruity with a hint of sweet feminine musk.
Alice framboise.
I wouldn’t mind eating that.
As she leans in closer, placing one hand on the back of my chair to steady herself, I get a whiff of her fragrance. I discreetly sniff the air as I keep my eyes focused on the screen in front of me, but it’s near impossible.
The words on the screen blur together, and a pleasant warmth spreads from my chest to the tips of my fingers. I’m drunk on her scent.
“Uh… Are you going to show me?” she says, rousing me from my intoxicated state, while also awakening something in the crotch of my jeans.
“Of course,” I say, moving the cursor to the top of the screen. “The name of this software is—”
Ollie walks in unannounced, interrupting our private lesson. “There’s only—” She sees Alice and stop mid-sentence. “I’m sorry. Should I come back later?”
My disappointment must be obvious. “No, please come in.”
Ollie glances at Alice again, and Alice takes this as a sign that she should put some more distance between us. I press my lips together to hide my annoyance.
“There’s only one supplier that has the same model within a hundred-mile radius, but they’re in Poughkeepsie, and it’s a scratch-and-dent model. But that means it’s less than half the price of the new one.”
“Great,” I reply, feeling my body flood with relief at the knowledge I won’t have to create a new tasting menu, and I can postpone this ill-conceived lesson with Alice for another more appropriate time.
“Actually…” Ollie chimes in looking somewhat hesitant. “The guy won’t hold it for us. He said they don’t hold scratch-and-dent models unless you have an account with them, which we don’t.”
I shrug, wondering why Ollie seems so worried about this. “So, what’s the problem? You have all the business information. Create an account.”
Ollie shakes her head. “They don’t take scanned IDs. You would need to go to Poughkeepsie and open an account yourself, unless you want the account to be under someone else’s name.”