Burn (Heat #1)(9)

He greets one of the junior chefs and two of the sous chefs when we walk into the kitchen. Their judgmental glances aren't lost on me. I don't know why I was invited tonight and they weren't.

Maybe Tyler views them as the best of the best and that's why they've been handed the task of preparing the food.

He might. I don't take it personally. I haven't had the chance to prove myself yet. I will, in time. Being in a rush comes with uncertainty. I'm planning on taking calculated risks that I know will pay off. Working tonight wouldn't have been one of them.

"This way." He reaches his hand for me and I take it in mine. I follow him through the kitchen, past the scurrying wait staff until we're in the dimly lit corridor heading toward the small office.

"What is it?" I let my curiosity speak for me. "I can't imagine what it is."

He flips the light switch when we reach the office door. He squeezes my hand faintly before he gestures to the desk with his other. "There's your gift. I picked that myself just for you."

I smile as my eyes rest on the lone, perfectly ripe, Marglobe tomato sitting on a linen napkin in the middle of the desk.

***

"This is why I became a chef." I lick my lips. "That's perfection right there. I knew it would taste just like this."

He picks up another piece of the tomato. After I scooped it into my palm we walked back into the kitchen. He reached for a small white plate and a knife before he asked if I wanted the honor. I laughed when I gestured for him to cut it.

My mouth was literally watering in anticipation. The first bite was sweet, the second even better.

"You're not having any?" I ask, my gaze shifting from the half-eaten tomato to his face.

"I was going to eat this piece, but watching you eat is even better." He slides the robust slice of tomato between my lips.

I chew slowly, closing my eyes to savor the freshness.

"If I would have known I would be treated to seeing the bliss on your face, I would have brought back a bushel of these things with me. A crate of them arrives tomorrow."

"If they all taste like this, I'm going to need to be tied down." I sweep my tongue over my lower lip.

He reaches up to rub the path my tongue just traced with the pad of his thumb. "I'll volunteer for that job."

I stare at his lips willing him to seal them over mine, but I know that's not about to happen. My co-workers are still milling about us, all of them feigning oblivion but I've caught their eyes when they've looked in our direction.

"Thank you for the gift, Chef."

"You're welcome. It's my pleasure, truly." His gaze darts over my shoulder to the kitchen door. "I need to get back to my guests. I hope you enjoy what's left of the evening."

"I will," I breathe deeply, finally understanding the appeal of Chef Tyler Monroe.





CHAPTER 9


"I thought you'd wear the dress you wore last night." Sophia pouts before she sits her ass down on a sleek, stainless steel barstool. "It would have been perfect to wear here."

She's right. I could have worn the dress again, but I didn't. Instead I'm wearing a black pencil skirt and matching sleeveless blouse, tied at the neck. It's elegant, understated and something Sophia made for me more than two months ago. It had taken her weeks to get the fit just right. I'd patiently tried both pieces on each morning before she went to work so she could push pins into the fabric to mark where she needed to make alterations.

When it was finally complete, we did what we always do. I stood next to the white, barren wall in her bedroom while she snapped four pictures of me using her smartphone. My head is never in any of the shots so I'm not against showing up for our impromptu photo shoots with no make-up on and my hair pinned chaotically on top of my head.

She has me stand in place as she takes a picture of the outfit's front, the back and both sides. I'm technically the human mannequin who displays her creations so she can upload them to the growing portfolio on her website.

I've joked with her, more than once, that she decided to move in with me because of my height. I may be as tall as most models, but that's where the comparison ends. I like food too much to have a body that would be welcomed on a cat walk.

"When's Maribel coming?" she asks as she looks beyond me to the crowded club. "I thought we were meeting her outside."

I'm surprised we're meeting her at all.

Sophia had stopped at Nova for lunch today. She'd dropped my name in the hope of getting a table. That only got her on a waiting list, with a chance at a lunch reservation a week from next Tuesday. When she texted me to tell me she was denied, I spoke to the front of the house manager and she arranged a seat at the corner of the bar for my best friend.

I caught her on the street just as she was leaving. When I spotted Maribel on a cigarette break, I introduced the two. Five minutes and a few laughs later, the two of them had planned a ladies' night out for the three of us at a club I've never been to on the Lower East Side called Skyn.

We're here now and I can't say that it's different than any of the other clubs that Sophia and I have been to. The aesthetics of each may be unique, but the intentions of the clientele are always the same.

"She's running late." I hold up my phone. "She texted me when we were in the taxi on the way over. She'll be here in just a few."